Chapter 10
Knotweed
Mateo
Ilean back and watch Holly nibble her sandwich.
My stomach is in that stage where you’re full enough, but kind of a little hungry, but if you eat another sandwich, you’ll be too full.
Then again, I don’t need to go out and work on the farm this afternoon.
I guess this can be the start of adjusting to a lower caloric intake.
I won’t be working the same hours and level of physical hardship as on the farm, and my stomach complains at the thought of not having seconds and thirds of Mami’s cooking.
I’ve never liked dieting.
Good thing my woodworking will give me a bit of physical challenge during the day. I push the thoughts of working out to the far reaches of my mind. I don’t need to worry about that right now.
My eyes roam over the restaurant and out the window as I force myself to stop cataloging everything about Holly’s face. I already have her blonde hair, long mascara-covered eyelashes, and blue eyes seared into my brain.
I glance around at the different people sitting in the restaurant.
I lived in California for a few years when I finished my undergrad.
The variety of people you see here is something I miss.
It’s good to get out of the bubble of Bolt every once in a while.
I’m looking forward to discovering the California Holly knows.
I have a feeling it’s different from anything I’ve ever experienced.
My eyes catch on a familiar-looking man walking through the front doors.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise, and my hands clench into fists as I sit up stick-straight, fully attentive to the new arrival.
It’s the last man I want to see in California—or anywhere.
“Holly, don’t look now, but we’re about to have company. Let’s see how good our acting skills are in about five seconds.”
Holly drops her sandwich, her gaze flitting around the room until they land on enemy number one.
Jorge.
I reach for Holly’s hand, threading my fingers through hers despite the sauce lingering on her fingertips, and she squeezes my hand.
I lean forward, my voice a calm whisper, “Don’t look at him, look at me.”
She meets my eyes and my fingers lightly squeeze hers, wanting to reach over and smooth the crease between her brow. My mind scrambles for words I could say to wipe away her frown. I’m at a loss with my mind zeroed in on our game plan.
I let out a breath and focus on protecting the woman whose eyes are begging me to help her escape our predicament.
I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. I push through and say the first words that come to mind. “We’re in love. We’re getting married tomorrow. He doesn’t matter anymore. I will protect you.”
The crease between her eyebrows deepens and my mind runs through a list of my least favorite weeds to use in place of curse words.
I do not want Holly to have to deal with this piece of bull thistle today.
I mentally say a prayer of thanks that she filled out the restraining order paperwork earlier.
Holly’s eyes flick away from mine. Her lips have thinned and in a second she wipes away the emotions on her face, putting on a calm facade.
Her grip on my hand tightens, and she’s squeezing my fingers like our grip is her lifeline. Her touch does something to my heart that I’m not quite ready to evaluate.
What I do know is there has been a change of plans.
Protector mode has been fully activated.
I let go of Holly’s hand and push out of my chair so hard that it almost topples behind me. I turn toward the entrance just in time to block Jorge before he gets to our table. My arms are folded and purposefully flex my pecs and biceps. This piece of tansy ragwort will not get close to Holly today.
I narrow my eyes at the piece of knotweed. “Why are you here, Jorge?”
The man sticks his hands in his slacks, rocking back on his loafers, trying to look innocent. “Can’t a man order a sandwich anymore?”
“Not when it’s at the exact same time as my fiancée, who has asked you to leave her alone.”
Jorge tries—and fails—to raise his eyebrows, and I tamper down a smile at the fact this knotweed can’t even emote.
“Fiancée?" He scoffs. "I thought Holly was joking. She still owes me a date, considering she abruptly left our last one before I got what I deserved.” He tries to angle his head to the side to look around me, but I sidestep, blocking his view of my future wife.
“Holly doesn’t owe you anything. She’s an adult and has told you no and to leave her alone. No means no. Get lost, Jorge.”
“If Holly wants me to leave, she needs to tell me to my face.”
Fire rages within my chest and I bite my tongue to keep the words I’d regret saying inside.
I take a deep breath, wishing the increase in oxygen could soothe the flames.
There’s a light touch on my arm, instantly cooling the inferno within me.
I turn only to see Holly standing next to me, her face stone and her blue eyes blazing as she glares at Jorge.
Her eyes narrow. “Jorge, I’m here with my fiancé. Leave me alone and don’t come back.” Her voice is steady and confident, and I’m filled with pride knowing this incredible woman will be mine tomorrow.
Fake mine.
Semantics.
Jorge’s face is red and splotchy and his nostrils flare before he speaks. He reminds me of a bull. The thought almost has me laughing, but his next words remind me how serious this situation really is.
His voice is quiet and venomous. “You’re going to regret this, Holly. Whatever this is,”—he gestures at the two of us—“will not end well for you. When it ends, because it will, I’ll be there to fix your life and your reputation, especially in the media.”
Holly takes a small step forward, her shoulders square and her hands stiffly planted at her sides. “It won’t end.”
A seed of hope buries itself in my chest, even as I ignore it, knowing our marriage is a means to an end to get rid of Mr. Toadflax.
She faces Jorge down for only a second before turning her back to him and walking to her chair. I know she’s feeling rattled by this confrontation, but she’s acting totally calm. Holly definitely has the Kingston family’s acting abilities. Her brother would be proud.
Jorge turns his hate-filled gaze on me and I stifle the urge to laugh in his face. I only let the tiniest amount of amusement leak through and my smirk only enrages him even more, causing the red in his cheeks to turn purple.
“You’ll be hearing from me,” he spits out.
I shake my head. “I certainly hope not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to lunch with my future wife.” I lift my hand and mock wave at him. “Bye.”
Jorge’s nostrils flair, but he takes a step back and turns away, his feet stomping across the floor.
I sit in my chair across from Holly.
Her eyes are trained on Jorge, and I look back to see him exit the building. Holly’s shoulders sag, as if a heavy weight’s been lifted. Her arms sit listlessly next to her plate, her sandwich forgotten.
I reach over and rest my hand on her forearm, drawing her gaze to mine. “You okay?”
Holly’s hand flips over and I quickly accept the unspoken invitation. Her fingers weave through mine, and I’m positive I’ve never felt something so perfect before.
“Yeah, I’m fine. A little shook up.” Her voice is little more than a whisper. She shakes her head and her eyes look misty. “How did he even know we were here?”
“Beats me, but I think that’s another point against him. We can add that to the restraining order paperwork, especially because he didn’t even order food, just came straight for our table.”
“Yeah.” She sighs. “We should go ring shopping now.”
“I’m sorry, Holly.” Nothing else seems adequate or big enough to express the feeling inside of me right now.
The fury that there are men out there who treat women so poorly, and the desire to hold and kiss away all of Holly’s pains roil inside of me, leaving me tongue-tied.
“It’s not your fault, Mateo.” Holly smiles softly, squeezing my hand. “He’s not worth your anger.”
“You’re right. But Holly, you’re worth it. You’re worth protecting and keeping safe. I promise marrying me won’t be something you regret.”
She ducks her head, the natural pink of her cheeks deepening to a rosy hue. “Not exactly the proposal of my dreams, but thank you. I accept.”
I laugh. “That wasn’t my official proposal, Buttercup. You’ll be blown away by how suave I can be when I actually propose.”
She shakes her head, but I don’t miss the twitch of her lips. “We’re getting married tomorrow and having dinner with your family tonight. When else are you going to propose?”
I wink. “You’ll see.”
Finally, she smiles. “I’m done eating. Let’s go get me a ring.”
I grab her plate before she can protest.
“As you wish.”