Chapter Three
Harlow
A Stranger I Shouldn’t Trust
I glance away from Mateo to hide my cringe. Saved my ass? Really? I need to stop thinking about how good he looks in his dark blue jeans and do better about watching my tongue. That is not how a single woman should speak when she’s alone with a man.
Never mind that he’s a man who smells like freedom and adventure, and yet somehow loves working with computers so much that he’s willing to make house calls after hours just to sit behind a screen.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I had dreamed up this dark-haired, faintly stubbled male in one of my wild escape fantasies as a younger girl.
Suddenly, I’m biting back a ridiculous giggle.
The clack of keys on the keyboard stops. “Huh.”
I pull in a breath, smooth a hand down my hair just for something to do with my hands, and face him properly once more. “What’s the matter?” Other than I completely fucked up my entire computer system, apparently. How the hell did I get slapped with a virus?
Mateo lifts his magnetic chocolate-brown eyes to mine. “This might take a little longer than I originally thought.”
Panic surges in my chest. My boss is kind of a jerk, and I’m still in my probationary period. If he finds out I lost, or even damaged, those documents, my ass will be out the door in seconds. And if I lose that job, I won’t be able to afford rent after next month.
Mateo makes a calming gesture with one hand, obviously seeing my rising panic. “It’s not a huge deal,” he says quickly. “I can fix it. I just wanted to give you a heads up, you’re gonna be stuck with me for more than a few minutes.” He offers a smile like he’s trying to reassure me.
I hear his words and have two very different reactions.
My brain raises a warning flag, insisting I proceed with caution.
Put more distance than merely the computer station between us.
He’s already making excuses to linger in my personal space, and objectively, this whole scenario was shady to start with.
But something else in me, something deeper, settles.
Calming. As if I can sense on an instinctive level that I can trust him, that his words are true, and his intention is good.
Not everyone is out to hurt you, Harlow. It’s pathetic how often I repeat that to myself.
I smile, just a little, and incline my head. “Okay, well, do whatever you need. I’ll try not to disturb you too much.”
Mateo returns his hand to the keyboard and his gaze to the monitor. “You’re not disturbing me, Harlow,” he says. Once again, my name rumbles off his lips and sends an inexplicable shiver down my spine.
Shit. Maybe I’m just horny. Maybe it’s me who’s got sex on the brain too much.
This is a terrible time to be analyzing that, and I certainly can’t go take a shower or even change out of my stuffy work clothes just yet, so I decide it’s time to finish that cookie. Chocolate is the answer to everything. Except I’ve lost it.
I’m back at my purse, which I dumped much too hastily in retrospect, and the cookie is definitely not here. “What the fuck?” I don’t mean to say the words out loud, but the thought slips out.
In return, I’m greeted with a warm chuckle that makes my skin tingle. “If you’re looking for your cookie,” Mateo says, almost like he’s laughing, “it’s over here.”
I look up and see him pointing to my indulgent treasure, resting at the corner of the work desk.
Beside him. Embarrassment floods me. I slowly set the purse down, as if standing before a wild animal and not wanting to spook it, unsure what to say to salvage any decent impression he might have had of me.
“Thank you...” I take small steps back toward the desk, where he still sits, and reach awkwardly for the cookie. “Why is it over here?”
“You handed it to me when you were searching for your keys.” I see his lips twitch, but this time it looks like he’s trying to hide the amusement. He’s failing.
I have no memory of doing that, only of being angry with myself for not having pulled them out in advance. “Thank you,” I say again, dropping my gaze to the cookie. I sigh. “That was so embarrassing. I’m sorry. It was a weird night.”
His fingers resume their clicking, and from my new angle, I can see small windows layered over each other.
At least one has that classic code-looking text jargon in white-on-black, with new lines of incomprehensible letter combinations spontaneously running over the black space.
It’s a foreign language to me in every way, so I make no effort to read the letter string and shift my gaze to his profile.
I can’t help myself. His jaw is so perfectly well-defined beneath that faint layer of scruff, and I can’t help but imagine how delicious it would feel rubbing against my skin.
I yank my eyes away and bring the cookie to my mouth. No. Absolutely not.
“Weird night?” Mateo asks after a brief moment. I hadn’t been sure he’d heard me, and when I allow myself to glance at him again, he’s reaching for his water with the hand not on the mouse. “Weird how?”
Well, I wasn’t prepared for that question or the slight change in his tone. It’s more ... raw.
I take my time chewing the unflatteringly large bite of cookie before answering, not even sure how I’ll explain that stupid encounter. Obviously, I can’t explain it fully. Not if I don’t want to wind up back in a padded room.
Finally, I shrug and say, “I just ran into this guy when I was leaving the cafe before. He really freaked me out, and he was an asshole. But it made me uneasy, I guess.” I start toward the kitchen again, needing a drink of my own now.
“I mean, who goes out of their way to be a jerk to total strangers?” I turn, working myself up, and wave my hand—and my cookie—up and down my front.
“Am I not respectfully dressed? You can’t see my knees or anything below my neck.
But that jackass told me to cover up like he was my damn mother. ”
Mateo’s eyes drag down my body, and my core clenches in a way I had not at all been prepared for.
I have no one to blame but myself for any of this, and that only makes it all worse.
I’m not sure if I’m pissed off about my surge of hormones, if I’m thrilled that this man I’m suddenly lusting for might be interested, or if all those reasons just make me that much more afraid.
It feels like everything at once. I hate everything at once.
While my mind is spiraling, my breathing starts to shorten, Mateo leans away from the computer, and asks a single question. “Did he touch you?”