Chapter Six
Mateo
Seven Steps Too Far
She is stunning. Her dark hair and tan skin are a perfect accent to the powder-pink dress she is wearing with her denim ballet flats.
The bodice is fitted and shows a tiny glimpse of her cleavage, while the skirt is flowy and reaches just above the knees.
The entire outfit doesn’t do a single damn thing to hide each and every one of her curves.
I wasn’t prepared to see her all dressed up, and it has robbed me of any semblance of sense I had left. I’m salivating for a bite of her, but I need to behave, at least for now.
“You look beautiful, Harlow,” I compliment her once she reaches the bottom of the steps outside her apartment building.
“Thank you.” The smile she gives me is enough to have a knot forming in my throat, but I don’t let it hold me back.
“The restaurant is three blocks from here. With it being such a beautiful and warm night out, I thought we could walk.”
“That sounds perfect.” Her words don’t align with the frown marring her beautiful features.
Three steps.
That’s all it takes for me to realize that something is wrong. I study her from the side, watching her fight to remain in control. Her breathing is heavy, and she is walking cautiously. She takes seven steps in total before I stop and force her to face me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Harlow replies hastily, not making eye contact.
“Harlow,” I say her name softly. Using my forefinger, I tilt her chin up until our gazes connect. “I know something is wrong. You can tell me, or we can stand here until tomorrow. But I’m not moving until I know the truth.”
Her cheeks flush beautifully. “It’s nothing. Really.”
I sigh. “I can see you’re uncomfortable. I know we don’t know each other very well, but I was hoping to change that tonight. Do you not want to go to dinner with me?”
Simply asking the question has a hollow feeling forming where my heart resides. If she is uncomfortable being alone with me, I won’t force the issue, no matter how badly I want—need—to spend time with her.
“No!” she exclaims, shaking her head vehemently. “It’s nothing like that. I’ve actually been looking forward to our date...” She slaps a hand across her mouth, her blush deepening.
I smile, removing her hand. I need to set the record straight: tonight has absolutely nothing to do with me receiving payment for fixing her computer.
“Yes, Harlow. This is absolutely supposed to be a date,” I explain. “I didn’t know how to broach the subject and thought this would be easier.”
“Really?” she squeaks.
I wink at her. “Yes. And I’m glad you’ve been looking forward to it as much as I have. But I still need to know what is wrong.”
She studies my face, looking for any kind of sign that I am being less than truthful before she replies. “I hurt my ankle earlier. It’s only a sprain, and I’ve been icing it, but...”
She yelps when I swing her up into my arms, cutting her off. I stride back toward her place.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice breathy.
“I’m not letting you walk to a restaurant,” I reply lowly, mad that I chose to leave my car at the compound. “We can reschedule for another night.”
I can feel the disappointment coming off her in waves, matching my own. I don't want to ever spend a single second away from her again, but I won’t allow her to hurt herself. Even if it is to go to dinner with me.
Reaching the door to her apartment, I give her space to rummage in her little denim handbag and retrieve the key.
I don't set her down until we are inside, and I can deposit her comfortably on the deep green, double-seat couch in her small lounge.
I lower myself to my knees and gently remove her shoes, carefully looking over both her ankles.
“What...” She clears her throat before trying again. “What are you doing?”
“I used to be an EMT, a lifetime ago. I’m just checking that you don’t have any serious damage or need to go to the emergency room.”
She remains silent as I take in the slight swelling. I press down gently, and she hisses, but I know that she will be fine.
“It doesn’t seem serious. But if the swelling doesn’t go down in a day or two, I would suggest going to see a doctor.”
“Thank you.”
Her voice is soft as I continue to caress her injured ankle.
I look up, our gazes connecting, and it feels like a fire is blazing through my veins.
Her cheeks are flushed, lips separated, chest heaving, as she stares down at me.
I want to kiss her so badly I can’t keep my thoughts in a straight line.
Shaking my head, I try to recenter myself.
“I should be going...”
“We could order in...”
Both of us speak at the same time. I grin at her with a nod. “I would love that,” I reply before she can change her mind. “But this isn’t our first date. I want to do that the right way.”
She smiles sweetly. “I can handle that.” She tries to rise, but I keep her on the couch by pushing down on her thighs. “We need menus.”
“And you need to stay off your feet,” I reply with a raised brow. “Just tell me where to find whatever you need, and I’ll bring it over.”
“Second drawer, below the microwave.” She gestures in the general direction of her small kitchen. “We can get Chinese or Italian.”
“Why don’t you decide?” It's not like I am going to be eating anything.