Chapter 7
seven
Mateo
“How’s unpacking going?” Phone on speaker, I give myself a quick appraisal in the mirror, considering whether I should change my shirt.
“What do you want me to do with all these suits?” Lee shouts in the background.
“Improve your style? When you aren’t painting and Nerd Alert isn’t studying, why don’t you get dressed up and take her out? I can give you a list of the best restaurants around the city.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. We aren’t all multi-millionaires, my dude . We’re going to be eating ketchup sandwiches while looking out at the park through these two-story windows.” He says my dude mockingly, and laughs silently. I love his ‘little brother’ stuff.
“No, we’re not,” my sister chides.
“She giving you the same look our mom does when she’s annoyed?” I tease.
“You mean the glare and shake of her head, followed by an eye roll? Yes, she—” He yelps, and the sound is followed by a squeal, then a giggle from her.
I roll my own eyes. “I’m still here, guys. Can you keep the honeymoon antics to a minimum for a moment?”
I’m met with muffled sounds, followed by a second of silence. When the noises resume, Stef sounds closer, like she’s talking directly into the device.
“Anything new going on with you?” she asks, her footsteps clicking against the wood floors.
I groan. “First, please promise me you brought your own sheets.”
She barks out a laugh. “Yes, we will use our own bedding, manchild.”
“Wonderful, next… have you heard from Nessa lately? She’s supposed to be here soon?—”
“Hope you brought your own sheets to my house, Mateo,” my sister says, throwing my words back at me.
“Har-har. Yes, I also have a new mattress being delivered this week.”
“No,” she whines.
There’s no stopping my laughter. She had to be expecting me to make upgrades.
“If you really hate it, I’ll keep it. Don’t worry.” I shrug like she can see me.
My grandparents busted their asses to get to America, and I’m continuing the momentum, working hard to give my family nice things. It’s that simple.
“So back to me.” I flop down on her sitcom sofa and snag the remote. Once SportsCenter is playing on mute, I rest my socked feet on the coffee table and lean back. “Have you talked to Nessa?”
“Nope, why?” Her voice laced with hesitation.
“She hasn’t told you that she’s my girlfriend?”
She huffs a breath like I’m the world’s biggest idiot—as usual.
“Stef, I want her to see that I’ve changed. I’m over picking up random women at bars. Have been since your wedding.”
“Wow. You’ve been celibate for a whole… three months?” she says, mocking me.
“What counts as ‘celibate’? Like, only sex, or are we talking kissing?—”
Stef cries, “I take it back. TMI. Don’t tell me.”
With a sigh, I rough a hand down my face. Be sincere, dude. “I tried, hoping I’d get over her. But I couldn’t close. I missed Nessa.”
She lets out a long aw , and I have to question if I’m actually virtuous. It would be an amazing upset against that asshole Caleb to win the property bid and the girl.
“I want to start my own firm, and why not begin with the property on the north side of town? There isn’t any stopping the expansion.
We have a housing shortage, but we don’t need to go with big, splashy, overpriced cookie-cutter houses to make things nice.
Plus, Peacock Springs is my home—I’d rather the land be developed by a local than a nepotism-fueled manchild, wouldn’t you? ”
“You’d rather it be developed by a manchild fueled by chicken adobo from his mommy, huh?” she teases.
“Hey, you leave Mom’s cooking out of this,” I cry, debating whether it’s too early to dig into the leftovers.
“Anyway, like I was saying…” I really lay this on thick for my sister’s amusement.
Or my own. Same difference. “I need to know what Nessa told you about us before I see her. Spill it, girlfriend,” I say, affecting a feminine lilt.
“There’s no tea to spill. She thinks what she always has. That you’re a dumb playboy who thinks too highly of himself and has too much money?—”
“And who’s amazing in bed and made her come?—”
“La-la-la. I can’t hear you,” she shrieks. Though a moment later, her tone softens. “You’re really hung up on her, aren’t you?”
My heart thumps heavily in my chest. “Yeah. I am. And I’ll win her over eventually. Just you wait and see.”
“There’s my delusionally confident big brother.”
“I could do it, you know. If I wanted to.” I huff. “I could be a good boyfriend. I’m a good brother, aren’t I?”
Sighing, she finally relents. “You are a great brother. You know I tease you because I can… and also, you are an idiot.”
“But a great one.”
“Back to your question,” she says, her tone gentle. “Nessa did not mention that the two of you are dating. More importantly, can you really outbid him? That asshole really hurt her. I’d love for someone to chase him out of town.”
Chuckling, I reply. “You’re in my apartment. Look around. Need I say more?”
“Touché. What comes next?”
“I’m going to make her fall in love with me.”
Mateo:
You sure I can’t take you some place nice for dinner before this meeting?
Ivy:
No thanks.
Mateo:
I promise to be a gentleman.
Please hands pressed together emoji
Ivy:
I’m tired. Let’s just get this over with.
That last text is like a knife to the gut. Just what every man wants to hear, that she wants to get it over with.
She’s here.
She’s standing on the porch, her hair pulled up in two light bulb–looking knots on top of her head, though the ends cascade down her back.
Yeah, I’m studying her from the window. So what?
With a steadying breath, I open the door and step to the side, inviting her in.
She unbuttons her gray peacoat, and I take it from her and hang it in the front closet.
“It’s gotten chilly so fast. I feel like this happens every September. One day, it’s summer, and the next, boom, pull out the winter gear.”
Her voice is casual, flippant, like she’s trying to come across as unaffected by my presence.
But her outfit gives her away. And damn, this girl is absolutely trying to kill me.
She’s wearing a soft pink silk slip dress with an oversized light gray cable-knit cardigan wrapped around her shoulders.
She’s been here a million times—it’s my sister’s house, after all—so out of habit, she bends down and unties her combat boots, giving me a view of the seam on the back of her sheer black tights and lifting her skirt ever so slightly. Fuck me; seriously. Please fuck me.
“So.” I choke back the need clawing up my throat. The last thing I want is to come on too strong. My goal tonight is to impress this woman. “What’s on the agenda tonight?”
“First, dinner. Where do you want to order from? Or, I’m a great cook,” she practically purrs.
Fuck, she’s cruel. I inhale, willing my dick to stand down.
“Cooking involves knives, though, and I would hate to slip and stab you if you got too annoying. Though that would get rid of this pesky problem of being around you too much.” She flutters her lashes and pouts her glossy lips.
A hearty laugh erupts from my lungs. This girl is going to be the end of me, and I’m here for it. Fuck, I’m down bad.
“There’s a new spot a few towns over. We could go out,” I prod.
For a split second, her confident mask drops, and uncertainty flickers behind her eyes. As quickly as it appeared, though, it’s gone.
“Forget it,” I say with a dismissive wave. “How about pizza? I have Mariano’s pulled up online already. Do you want toppings? Apps? Zerts?”
She screws up her face in disgust. “Apps? Zerts? You can’t say the full words?”
“You don’t know the show?” I clutch my chest, incensed. How is this possible?
“Oh lord, here we go again. Mateo’s latest obsession. Please enlighten me. But wait until the pizza is here. Whatever you get will be fine. Plus a small house salad.”
I cock a brow. “Anything?”
“Whatever.” She inspects her nails, looking bored.
“Anchovies?”
“Why not?” She finally meets my eyes, her expression deadpan. “When we visited my grandparents, they ordered theirs with tuna and corn. Apparently, it’s popular there. You cannot gross me out, dude. I’ve had to eat corn and tuna pizza.”
My stomach rolls. Yuck. “Okay, so pineapple and ham it is.”
With a lift of one shoulder, she blinks once. “Like I said—whatever is fine.”
Half an hour later, the delivery guy has dropped off two pizzas, one with ham and pineapple and the other classic Margherita, along with her house salad.
We put on a rerun and dig in. Nessa’s legs are tucked under her on the couch, her skirt falling above the knee and exposing a hint of her satiny thighs.
With any luck, having a full belly will brighten her mood.
When the third episode wraps and the do you wish to continue watching? screen loads, it’s time to try again.
“What do we have to do for the festival?” I ask.
She eyes the giant binder sitting on the coffee table. Jim, generously, dropped the massive thing off earlier. “I assume it’s in there. Have you not looked yet?”
Is she seriously irritated that I haven’t read the binder? It’s just a binder. We’ve been to this thing a million times.
“No. Why would I? Why do what’s already been done before?” I smirk.
She leans forward to grab the enormous thing, the movement causing her sweater to glide down her shoulder and expose her creamy skin.
A cluster of dark brown birthmarks peek out, and a hazy memory comes to me.
I’m back in the hotel room with her that night, with her silky slip dress in my hands, my body pressed to hers against the hotel door as we fumble with the keys.
Kissing her along each of the four spots, asking her whether she realized how sexy they were.
Asking if she knew about the old wives’ tales, how they mean she’s a take-charge person.
The moment we stepped inside, she took the comment as an invitation to take her dress off.
She stayed like that, in her underwear and heels, making jokes and verbal jabs, while touching me, kissing me. The most delicious mix of teasing.
I shake my head and stand, yanking on the collar of my shirt. “I need a water. Want one?” I open the freezer and stick my head in farther than necessary, desperate to cool down.
Okay, time to try and get some points on the board.
I fill two glasses, then snag the ball cap off the island, pull it on, and head back to the living room, turning my usual swagger up a notch.
Once I’ve set our waters on gray and white marble coasters, I slow my movements to ensure she’s looking at me, then I straighten and slowly turn the cap backward.
Her pupils dilate. Dope, the playing field is leveling out.
Her sweater still hangs off one shoulder, the cut of the dress beneath it highlighting the ample curve of her breasts. It’s impossible not to look.
Before I can force my gaze away, her expression turns to a glare. It’s more than that, really. The woman straight-up incinerates me with her eyes.
“So,” she says, adjusting her sweater. “It looks like we should make sure that the usual groups plan to set up their booths, which is just a simple email. Can you handle that?”
Does she really think I can’t complete such a simple task?
I have built a portfolio worth hundreds of millions of dollars, but when I’m in Peacock Springs, I’m just Stef’s dumb older brother.
As if the kids here were so smart. They called me Jeremy Lin.
First of all, resembling a pro basketball player is not an insult.
And second, they couldn’t even tease me in a way that made sense.
That guy is Taiwanese. I’m Filipino. Not the same place.
With a chuckle, I settle on the couch. “I can try, but you’ll have to help me find the website.”
“Only know how to navigate to sports and things in incognito mode?” She smirks.
“I knew you were still thinking about my sexual preferences.”
A flush creeps from her chest up her neck and into her cheeks.
“I see what you’re playing at, coming here in this sweet, flirty little dress.” I skim a finger lightly over one thin strap, and her breath hitches.
“We can go as slow as you want. Tease me all you like, but you already know…” I angle in and bring my mouth to her ear.
“I like when you tease me. And I’m patient.
You’ll be back, and until then, I’ll be here.
Sending emails.” It takes everything in me not to kiss her on the cheek and instead simply lift the binder from her lap.
With that, I turn away with a silent prayer that I’ve left her wanting more. If only a tiny bit.