Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
the big deal
BLAIR
“What the hell is this?” I demand as I storm into the command center on Monday morning, thrusting my phone toward Matty.
He swivels around in his computer chair, blinking at the message displayed on the screen, then up at me. “I texted you,” he replies nonchalantly.
I yank my phone back with a frown. “Weird, since I never gave you my number.”
“C’mon, I’m a hacker genius, remember?” he drawls, flashing me a roguish grin.
I keep frowning at him, decidedly unamused.
“Okay, okay, I got it from Cam,” he admits, chuckling softly as he raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”
I clench my jaw, irritation bubbling beneath my skin.
It was bad enough that Matty caught me in a rare vulnerable moment on Friday night.
I managed to avoid seeing him around the squad complex for the rest of the weekend– probably in part because I barely left my dorm room– and fully planned on waltzing in here today like nothing happened.
Then I woke up to his text and my master plan blew up in my face.
Hey, it’s Matty. Just wanted to say I’m looking forward to working with you again this week. Hope you’re doing okay. Friends or not, I’m always here if you want to talk.
The moment I read that message I was completely fucking mortified. What the hell was I thinking, letting him see me at my weakest? Never again.
“No talking unless it’s work-related, remember?” I grumble, stuffing my phone into the back pocket of my black skinny jeans.
“But I didn’t talk, I texted,” he points out, winking.
Fucking semantics.
“Got you a coffee, too,” he adds, tipping his head toward my desk.
I glance over at the paper cup resting on the corner of it, my frown deepening.
He brought me coffees every morning last week, too, but I never drank a single one of them.
Rather than taking the hint, it looks like he’s doubling down on his efforts this week– in addition to the coffee, there’s a blueberry muffin resting on a napkin beside the cup.
Tempting.
“I don’t want your damn coffee,” I mutter, pointedly ignoring the food and drink as I skirt around my desk and pull out the chair, sliding my messenger bag off my shoulder.
“Not a coffee drinker, huh?” Matty muses, swiping a hand over his chin. “Do you prefer tea, or…”
“I’d prefer you drop the act and accept that we’re co-workers, not friends,” I reply flatly.
“Okay, I get it,” he concedes with a sigh.
As if I’m the one being unreasonable here.
I huff out a breath as I flop down into my chair, grabbing for my computer mouse and shaking it to wake up my screen. The sooner I can bury myself in work, the better.
When I open up my task list for the week, I realize that won’t be a problem. It’s double the length of the last one. I quickly scroll through it, trying to decide where to start.
“Did you finish your half of the contact list last week?” Matty asks after a few minutes.
Work-related, so I’ll let it slide.
“All but one,” I mumble.
“What’s the name?” he asks, gazing at me over the top of his monitor. “I’ll see if I can find anything.”
“I know how to do my job, thank you very much,” I snap, scowling back at him.
His brows shoot up. “Hey, I wasn’t doubting your abilities,” he clarifies, his expression heartbreakingly earnest. “Sometimes it just helps to get another set of eyes on something, go at it with a different approach.”
I pin him with an icy glare, chewing on the inside of my cheek. It’s hard to argue with someone who’s always so damn pragmatic. And nice.
Why the fuck is he always so nice?
“Fine,” I huff after a long moment, grabbing for my mouse and dragging the contact card from my folder to our shared drive. “Just dropped it in the drive, have at it. Name’s Isaac Matthews.”
Matty snorts a laugh, my eyes pinging up to meet his.
“What’s so funny?” I ask suspiciously.
“Nothing, that just has to be a mistake,” he chuckles, shaking his head.at
I narrow my eyes on him. “Why, friend of yours?”
He grins smugly. “You could say that.”
I slap a palm against my desk, rattling the objects on the surface. “See, this is exactly why a hunter shouldn’t be working on this taskforce,” I snarl. “It’s a conflict of–”
“It’s me,” Matty cuts in, sitting up straighter and stabbing a finger into his chest. “I’m Isaac Matthews.”
I flinch back, wrinkling my nose in confusion.
“Everyone went by last names in The Guild, but my uncle was already Matthews, so mine got shortened to Matty,” he explains, carding his fingers through his chestnut hair. “I kinda got used to it, and that’s what Cam’s always called me, so…” he trails off with a shrug.
My lashes flutter as I blink at him.
His uncle?
Were they close?
Did he survive?
I shake my head to dispel all those swirling questions, exhaling a stilted breath.
Deep down, I don’t want to know– because the more I know about Matty, the more I’ll be forced to see him as a person rather than just a hunter.
If that happens, it’ll be hard to keep on hating him.
If I stop hating him, I might start liking him, and then what kind of person would I be? What kind of mate would I be to Dylan?
“Oh,” I reply quietly, averting my gaze. “Well, if that’s a mistake, then yes, I finished my half of the contact list.”
A tense silence descends upon us as I refocus on my computer screen, deciding to just tackle my task list from the top down.
“Do you wanna send over your results then, so I can compile them with mine?” Matty asks.
My eyes flicker up to meet his once more, and while my first instinct is to snap that I don’t need any help, I hesitate.
This is work-related, so I suppose I can make an exception to refusing favors from him, just this once.
“Sure,” I sigh, navigating to the spreadsheet I created last week and dragging the file to our shared drive. “You should have access now.”
“Got it,” he confirms with a click of his mouse.
While Matty seemingly gets right to work, I’m suddenly having trouble focusing.
I spent all weekend trying to forget about Friday night, but sitting here across from Matty, it’s impossible not to remember.
I glance up at him again, nose twitching as his signature sandalwood and spice scent registers.
He catches me looking, gaze lifting to mine. “What?” he asks, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a little smirk.
“Nothing,” I reply quickly, eyes returning to my computer screen. “You just don’t look like an Isaac, that’s all.”
Ididn’t initially peg Matty as the stalker type, but I’m forced to re-evaluate that assessment when he walks in on me in the shower again.
It’s well after midnight, the rest of the squad complex already fast asleep.
Since I have trouble sleeping these days, I tend to shower at odd hours– and it’s a little too coincidental that he just so happens to have the same idea.
I’m rinsing the shampoo from my hair when I hear the door swing open, wicking the water away from my face and glancing across the dimly lit locker room to find him hesitating in the doorway.
“Can I help you?” I ask, a bite of accusation in my tone.
Matty holds up a stack of neatly folded clothes. “Just came to shower, but, uh…” His Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow, his cheeks reddening. “I can come back later.”
“I’m not gonna look at your dick, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I scoff, rolling my eyes as I turn my back on him and step beneath the shower spray to finish rinsing out my shampoo. “Honestly, why are humans such prudes?”
“We’re not. I mean, I’m not, I’m just not used to showering with other people. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, it’s just different, and I don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable,” he babbles as he lingers in the doorway.
“That was rhetorical,” I snort, flicking him a glance over my shoulder.
“Oh,” he breathes, his blush deepening.
Damnit, it’s kind of adorable.
“Well, if you’re okay with it,” he says hesitantly, finally stepping over the threshold into the locker room.
“Do what you want,” I mumble with a dismissive wave, reaching for the conditioner. Turning my back on Matty again, I squeeze a healthy glob of it into my palm and begin finger-combing it through my tresses, acutely aware of every sound he makes.
I hear the door swing closed behind him, followed by the pad of his footsteps against the tile.
I listen to the rustle of his clothes as he undresses, then the slap of his bare feet as he makes his way over to a shower.
The faucet creaks as he turns it on, the splash of the spray loud against the floor, then muffled when he steps beneath it.
Spinning around to rinse the conditioner from my hair, my gaze unwittingly drifts in his direction, my pulse skipping when it lands on him.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t a body like that.
Matty is stacked with hard-earned muscle, every inch of him toned and well-defined.
My eyes comb over the ladder of his abs, following the cut of his v-lines down lower…
I do a double take.
A triple-take.
Because holy fucking shit, Matty Blue Eyes is packing some serious heat. As someone who has seen hundreds of dicks in her lifetime– not as wild as it sounds, considering I’m a shifter– I can categorically say that he’s in the top ten for size. It’s long and thick, and it’s…
I suck in a breath through my teeth, gaze pinging up to his face. Matty’s expression is almost pained, his eyes trained on the floor as he hurriedly soaps up his hard body.
That’s not the only thing that’s hard.
Heat crawls up my neck and I spin around, putting my back to him once more. I quickly finish rinsing out my hair, pretending I didn’t just see his boner, pretending I’m not fighting the urge to look again.
What the fuck?
Suddenly I’m the one that’s flustered, cranking off the faucet before my hair’s even completely rinsed and making a mad dash for the towel rack. I yank one off the stack and wrap it around my body, heart beating a riot in my chest as I start for the door.
“See you tomorrow, Blair,” Matty calls after me.
I falter a step, throwing up a hand and sticking out my thumb.
A fucking thumbs-up.
That’s what my dumbass brain decides is an appropriate response. It’s a good thing he can’t see my face, because I immediately wince in regret, my cheeks flaming as I dash for the locker room door.