Chapter Seventeen
Mateo
Teague texted me she didn’t feel like going out tonight, so I’m bringing dinner to her. A bet’s a bet, and she said she wouldn’t refuse mac and cheese, so I ran into the Luxe Hotel and grabbed us the best. Plus, I really need to see her. I need to somehow make up for what happened at the fund-raiser. This girl makes me forget myself, and there’s no telling what else she’ll do to me if we keep this up, but I can’t fucking stop thinking about her.
I enter the backyard through the side gate and head toward the guesthouse. We’re on the other side of twilight, so landscape lighting guides me until I round the house. The large patio and grassy area are well lit. As are the pool and raised Jacuzzi. Which is where my gaze immediately stops. Teague is sitting in the swirling water, resting the back of her head on a towel on the edge of the tile. There’s a stack of magazines beside her ear. Her eyes are closed and her bikini top is barely covered by the water, so the view is fucking great. I don’t try to hide my approach even though I’m tempted to stay quiet and stare. My cock twitches in my shorts.
I’m not a perv or creep, though, so I say, “Hey.”
She startles.
“Shit. Did I wake you?”
“What are you doing here already?”
“Yep, you were asleep. It’s dinnertime, Knox.”
She blinks up at me. “It is? I’m so sorry. I guess I did fall asleep. It just feels really good in here. My muscles are finally—” She gives a small shake of her head. “Anyway, I’ll get out and we can go inside.”
“No rush. The food will keep.” I put the take-out bag on the concrete, toe off my shoes, and sit down with my feet in the water. Since I’m in basketball shorts, it’s easy.
“You don’t mind giving me maybe ten more minutes?”
“I don’t mind at all.” Did I mention she’s in a sexy-as-hell bikini? She can have ten fucking hours.
She floats her hands atop the warm water, her gaze on my legs. After playing soccer for most of my life, they’re perfectly muscled, but I think it’s my scar that has her attention.
“So, I’m going to take a stab here and say you’re sore from Saturday?” I ask.
Her eyes bounce back to mine. “Promise not to laugh?”
“Cross my heart.”
“I am so sore! Sitting down and getting up was the worst. I barely drank today so I wouldn’t have to go to the bathroom.”
“The hot water is helping?” I don’t have the heart to tell her that a soak in an ice-cold tub is actually better for muscle recovery.
“Feels like it.”
“Stay in as long as you want then. I’m in no hurry. We could even eat out here.”
“No.” She checks out her palms. “I’m already a prune. Just give me a few more minutes.” Her head falls back on her towel, and she looks up to the sky. The stars are out in force tonight.
“About Jillian,” I say.
Slowly, our eyes meet again. I’m prepared for her to quietly say what the heck, Mateo? I’m not prepared for her to stand up, splash me, and shout, “You’re a butthead!”
“Hey!” I splash back with a kick of my feet. Then my eyes land on the most spectacular pair of tits I have ever seen, and I’m speechless. The pale pink material of her bikini top clings to her skin and gives a perfect glimpse of her stiff nipples, and fuck if all my hot tub fantasies don’t want to roll out one by one. My cock wants all over that. I silently tell it to behave.
She notices where my eyes are and dips down so the water covers her shoulders. Damn shame. When we reconnect, her face is flushed. It’s not from embarrassment, though. More like satisfaction. She’s not completely unaware of the power she holds, and that sweet confidence makes me want her even more.
I am so fucked.
“Guilty as charged,” I say lightly, getting back to the subject at hand. This is the moment. Tell her I’m the Dating Guy? Don’t tell her? Shiiiitt. I jam my fingers through my hair. I could lose my job if I tell her. “I made plans with Jillian during the week, not thinking I’d see you. Not because I didn’t want to,” I add quickly. I want to see her all the fucking time. “But because I was working with Jillian all week and getting together just came up.”
Teague’s eyes are on the bubbles in the water. “You don’t have to—”
“Yeah, I do. If I hadn’t made plans with her, you bet your sweet ass we would have continued hanging out. As it turns out, I pretty much ditched her two minutes after getting to a bar with some of our other coworkers.”
She lifts her head. “Why?”
“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I introduced her to a friend of mine and they hit it off.” Like I’ve hit it off with you. Only I don’t say that. I’m still the Dating Guy and can’t quit doing what I’m doing. Although at the moment, I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I throw that disturbing thought right out of my head.
She’s quiet before saying, “So what are you doing with me?”
An excellent mind-reading question I have no fucking clue how to answer. Normally, I would have moved on by now.
I also hate the way she’s phrased her inquiry, like she’s not very important when things inside me are saying she’s the most interesting and essential person I’ve ever met. Maybe will ever meet. Growing up, my mom taught me that people come in and out of our lives for a reason—to teach us something, take something from us they need, or set us free from doubt.
“I like hanging out with you.”
“But you don’t want to date me.”
“It’s complicated.” I can’t believe I threw out that cliché line, but it’s the goddamn truth. If I dated her, I’d have to stop seeing her. I move from one date to the next. It’s what I do. Bennett came along right when I needed him, and I have no plans to abandon him.
She stares at me. Her thoughtful consideration is unnerving. “Because of Allie?”
And so is her narrowing in on the crux of my single-guy mentality. “Partly, yes. But also because I…” love my job. I’m good at it. “I have plenty of time to settle down later.”
She nods. There’s a shitstorm going on in that brain of hers. Not to sound full of myself, but she’s not the first girl to want to change me. She is the first girl I want to keep “seeing.” She’s my sugar rush. The sweet, insanely good thing I want to keep tasting, but I know will be bad for me in the long run. I’ll be bad for her, too.
Right now, though, I’m only thinking about more time with her. “Besides,” I say at her continued silence. “Staying friends means my mom can’t say shit about us. You’re not breaking any kind of work code of ethics by being my friend.”
With benefits, I’d like to add, but I don’t want to rush into more physical intimacy. Yet. I will get all of her one day. I fucking have to experience every inch of her made-to-be-bad body. Which negates the work thing, but we’ve disregarded that risk time and time again already.
How this goes down is ultimately her call, though, so I hold my breath, waiting for her to say something.
“I guess I can keep being friendly with you.” The way she says this, all sweet and sexy, tells me she’s waging the same battle between mind and body that I am. I fight the urge to slide into the water, haul her against me, and kiss her into submission right this fucking second.
“Cool.”
Here’s the thing. I never say anything that isn’t from my heart, and I never lead a girl on. I’m up-front about not wanting to get serious and just having a good time. And I might be out every weekend, but I’m not on a date all the time. A lot of nights I’m out with my friends, and that’s when I just watch the interaction between the sexes. I take my reports seriously, and if I’m going to speak for the entire male population, then I need to know what goes on in every dude’s head, not just my own. So I listen carefully when my friends and acquaintances are talking.
I get a shit-ton of fan mail at the station and 95 percent of it is thanks, so I think I’m doing a good job and not misleading anyone. (In case you’re wondering what the other 5 percent say, they think I’m a fucking idiot and have no idea what I’m talking about and why should anyone believe a British wanker.)
All this to say, Teague is in good hands with me, even if I’m focused on getting them dirty. Very dirty. My fingers itch to be inside her again, making her come.
“You are not going to fucking believe this,” Harper half shouts, marching out of the guesthouse and interrupting any further discussion.
Teague turns. “What’s wrong?”
Harper’s eyes widen when she sees me. “You.” She points to me. “Are a butthead.”
I laugh. “So I’ve been told.”
Harper looks from me to Teague. “I’m interrupting, so I’ll go back inside.”
“Harp. Wait. What’s up?” Teague asks with concern. She lifts out of the water and crosses her arms atop the edge of the Jacuzzi. I have a nice view of her delicate back and neck, since her hair is piled on top of her head.
“My cousin is getting married.”
“Colleen?” Teague asks.
“Yes. She’s known the guy for like two minutes.”
“I thought they met on New Year’s Eve,” Teague says.
“Okay, so a few months. The point is, now that she’s engaged my mother is going to be on me about getting married.”
“Maybe not,” Teague offers in a positive, uplifting tone.
Harper drills her with a look that says and maybe a UFO will land in the backyard. “If my cousin picks a bridesmaid dress with ruffles I’ll have to kill her, and you’ll have to help me hide the body.”
“Deal.” Teague looks over her shoulder at me and whispers, “Harp has a thing about ruffles.”
The phone in Harper’s hand rings. She lifts her arm to look at the small screen. “It’s my mother.”
“Sorry,” Teague says.
Harper ignores the call. Her gaze zeros in on the take-out bag next to me instead. “Is that food?”
“Mac and cheese from the Luxe. I brought enough for all of us.”
“One question.”
“Shoot.”
“What are your intentions with my girl?”
“Harper. We’ve got it worked out,” Teague says.
Since I have no fucking clue what my intentions are beyond the selfish need to keep Teague in my life, I say, “They’re good.” Because if whatever this is between Teague and me makes her uncomfortable or unhappy in any way, I’ll walk. The last thing I want is to hurt her.
Harper studies me. Her stance is relaxed, but I know she’s as fierce as they come on the inside. “Make sure they stay that way. Now hurry up and finish talking, because I’m starving.” She spins around and walks away, but after a couple of steps she stops and turns her head. “Thanks,” she says, looking me right in the eyes.
I’m not sure if the thanks are for the food or my intentions, but I’ll take it. “Welcome.”
Once she’s back inside the guesthouse, I kick up some water to get Teague’s attention. “Hey, how’s the studying going?”
She twists, giving me a quick side shot of her tit practically spilling out of her top. The front shot is equally hot, but I force my eyes up to hers. “Studying?” she asks.
“The magazines.” I nod toward the disorderly stack. “Figured you were reading for some education and inspiration.”
“Oh, yeah. I was. It’s going good, but slow.”
I can’t make out the entire cover of the magazine sticking out on the bottom of the pile, but I catch the words “weddings” and “honeymoons.” “Is that research for both jobs?”
She glances at the pile. “Kind of. I’ve got some ideas in my head, but I’m not ready to talk about them yet.”
“Good luck with whatever it is.”
“Thanks. Ready to head inside and eat?”
“I am.” I hold her gaze as she stands, but a second later I’m back to openly checking out her tits. She swallows hard before she turns to step out of the Jacuzzi, and I don’t know where to look first. All that wet, glistening skin is hot as hell. As soon as she’s completely out of the water, though, my eyes zero in on her spectacular ass covered in a scrap of pink material. I wonder how she’d feel in my palms, under my tongue. I want to lick every inch of her. No, I need to.
Before she wraps her towel around that sexy body of hers, she glances over her shoulder at me. Her eyes sparkle with something. Awareness and…fear, I think.
She’s caught up in this thing between us just as much as I am, but she’s afraid of letting go with me again. I don’t blame her. I also hate that she feels that way and will work hard to prove myself deserving of a girl like her.
Which makes me a greedy fucker, because she deserves more than I can give her.
Not better, but more.
I pick up the take-out bag and use it to hide my semi. I grab my shoes with my other hand, but drop them when my phone sounds with a text. I fish my cell out of my pocket and read the message from Elliot. He needs backup at home. Levi is fucked up, literally and emotionally. “Shit.”
“Everything okay?” Teague asks.
“No. I need to get home.” I slip my shoes on, hand her the bag of food. “Sorry to cut out so quickly. I hope you and Harper enjoy the food.”
She puts her free hand on my arm. “Mateo. What is it?”
“It’s Levi. He’ll be okay, he just…” Fuck. I’m getting choked up. Levi’s been through a lot of shit the past few years, and things were finally going well for the guy. Then Kayla shows back up.
“Is there anything I can do?” Her soft, caring voice almost makes me lose it.
I clear my throat. “Thanks, but I got this. You go feed your best friend before she changes her mind about liking me.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. She’s just a little overprotective sometimes.”
“Like I said, go feed her.”
“Okay. Thanks for bringing dinner. Don’t forget to eat, too.”
“I won’t,” I say, and hurry off before her special mix of kindness and sweetness turns me inside out even more.
When I get home, the place looks and smells like a frat house. Beer bottles, empty pizza boxes, candy wrappers, bong on the coffee table, and my two best friends sitting on the couch.
Elliot gives me a quick nod with a lift of his chin, his expression filled with concern. He’s still in his work clothes, his tie loose around his neck. I take a seat so Levi is between us. He looks like dead weight, and I’m not sure if he’s passed out or taking a moment. His shirt is filthy, his hair matted, and his complexion is somewhat green. At the dip in the couch when I sit, he cocks one eye open at me. Good. Not passed out, but not altogether with us, either. “I’m fine,” he mumbles.
“Twenty minutes ago he was puking his guts out,” Elliot says.
“You can leave me alone now, Mom.” Levi’s words are slurred; a combination of today’s substance abuse plus exhaustion is my guess. He’s never been a big partier, and with the hours he’s been working on shoots, he’s lucky if he gets six hours of sleep.
“Not happening,” I say.
“Not talking,” he fires back.
Kayla? I mouth to Elliot.
Elliot nods and mouths, Bad.
I get that the girl has been through hell, too, but the shit she’s pulled on Levi is inexcusable. If she sets foot near this house again, I’ll make sure she knows she’s not welcome.
“Kershaw pitched a no-hitter today,” I say, and pick up the TV remote. I turn on ESPN to catch highlights from the day in sports.
Levi might not want to talk, but that doesn’t mean he’s rid of us.
“The dude’s on fire lately,” Elliot says.
I settle deeper into the couch with my feet on the coffee table. “We need to catch a game soon.”
“I’ll get us tickets,” Elliot says, also making himself more comfortable.
Levi doesn’t say another word, but does open his eyes to watch the television. An hour or so later he stands on unsteady legs and walks to his room. Elliot and I are right behind him like mother hens. He collapses onto his bed face-first.
“He won’t smother himself, will he?” Elliot asks.
“I don’t think so.” But just in case, I roll him onto his side.
“Fuck you,” he grumbles.
“He’s good,” I say, wishing that were true, but at least we don’t have to worry about him suffocating.
We leave his bedroom door open a crack and head to our own rooms. “That girl is toxic,” Elliot says. “But I think we’ve seen the last of her.”
I need the whole story, but am too tired right now. “Tell me tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
I’ve only seen Levi this fucked up one other time, and it took forever for him to get his head back on straight. If I thought Allie messed me up, it’s nothing compared to what Kayla has done to him.
My thoughts drift to Teague as I climb into bed. She scares me more than any other girl I’ve met. No one has ever looked at me the way she does, with honest-to-goodness, genuine consideration and interest. Like she doesn’t give a shit about what everyone else knows or sees.
She wants to know the real me.