Gatekeeper: A fighter who other fighters challenge to establish themselves as contenders for the title.

Slip was packed. That wasn’t unusual for a Friday night, but after the wretched day Sean had, he was over it. Nothing life altering had happened. It was more a culmination of bullshit. He’d woken up to a flat tire, making him late for class. That girl who sat two rows in front of him, the one who never shut up, had asked so many questions that his last class had spilled over. He’d been fifteen minutes late to work. Since he hadn’t had time to run home and grab his “Slip” T-shirt, the manager had yelled at him, given him a new shirt, and promised it would come out of Sean’s check. More money he couldn’t afford to lose.

Thankfully, his section was overflowing with customers. Since he’d been informed that table seven, the one with a group of four men, had been waiting the longest, Sean tied his apron around his waist and headed their way. Despite his shit day and the even shittier manager, Sean loved working for Slip. The owners, Boston and Kaz, were amazing. Without them, he wouldn’t see a single hint of light at the end of the tunnel of his dark life. They paid his high-dollar tuition at a culinary school people fought to attend. He’d only been forced to sign over his life to Slip for the next few years. Sean didn’t mind. He’d given more for less before.

At the edge of table seven, Sean automatically chose the most open spot to lean across and set cocktail napkins in front of each man. “What can I get you?”

The man to his left turned in his seat. His dark eyes were sweet. They captured Sean, holding him hostage. “If I could get your phone number, I won’t ask for more, and I promise to leave a huge tip.”

Sean’s smile was out of his control. Maybe the night wasn’t a complete loss? Even better, maybe he didn’t look as horrible as he felt.

The guy to his right spoke up, killing Sean’s hope. “Don’t mind him. He’ll fuck anything that moves. It’s not personal.”

The sweet dark eyes shifted, hardening. Something dark and sharp stabbed Sean in the chest. No one wanted him unless they were a piece of shit. Why couldn’t he remember that? Fuck it. He’d already lost money on a T-shirt he didn’t need. Sean didn’t need this table. He walked away, moving to the next table without a backward glance.

Two women who looked as if they’d been drinking for hours watched his approach. Sean didn’t doubt for a second his smile looked every bit as forced as it felt. “What can I get you ladies?” he asked, setting cocktail napkins in front of them.

They were both blonde—one platinum and one dark. The platinum smiled. “Another White Russian, please?”

He nodded and turned to her friend. “And you?”

“The same.”

With his blatantly false smile still in place, Sean turned and ran into the hard chest of the caramel-skinned male who’d flirted with him only moments earlier. Sean’s tongue froze to the roof of his mouth. Damn. The dude was even better while standing and up close. He had a good six inches on Sean and his body was hard—like a pro football star. The guy also had dimples. Sean loved dimples.

“I’m sorry about my friend,” he said, and Sean’s hurt slipped away. He felt it slide off like a mink coat. It was in the guy’s eyes. He meant it.

Sean managed a genuine smile. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have walked away. I’m just—”

“Yes, you should have,” Sweet Eyes said, cutting Sean off. “Just because you’re working doesn’t mean you should put up with anyone’s shit. I know you don’t know me and have no reason to believe me, but I wasn’t trying to play you.”

Sean wasn’t so sure that was true, but he let it slide. “I’m Sean,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Mateo,” his sexy new friend said, his accent thickening.

Sean had to know. “Where are you from?”

“Brazil originally, but I was raised mostly in Miami. Where are you from?” Mateo’s smile said he knew his question was a ridiculous one. Sean couldn’t be more obviously hometown.

“Here. My whole life,” he added, in case there was any doubt. A lock of Sean’s hair fell across his eyes.

Mateo pushed it behind Sean’s ear. Sean’s stomach quivered. It never occurred to Sean to move away, even as Mateo’s gaze slid down his body. It wasn’t a blatant inspection. It was better, as if Mateo couldn’t resist checking Sean out. Sean hadn’t felt desired in a damn long time. “If I go sit down, will you visit me again tonight?” Mateo pulled a hopeful face. “I’ll let you pour a drink in my lap to make up for my friend’s douchery.”

A roar of laughter escaped Sean. Mateo was damn earnest—like he’d really let Sean pour a drink on him as long as he came back. Sean swiped at his eyes. “How can I resist that offer?”

Mateo’s smile grew. His dimples deepened. “I’m hoping you can’t.”

“I have to put this drink order in before I get in trouble… again. Can I get you anything while I’m at it?”

“I’m still holding out for your number,” Mateo said with a wink before walking away. Sean watched it happen with a happy inner sigh. The man did have an amazing ass and a confident walk. Sheesh. He headed for the bar before he wasted any more time. On impulse, he put in an order for a beer along with the two White Russians. He dropped the liquor off with the women and checked on his other tables before heading back to Mateo. The sexy man was sitting all alone. Sean couldn’t have that. He set the beer at Mateo’s elbow and claimed the empty seat next to him.

“The beer is on me. Where did your friends go?”

Mateo’s gaze locked on Sean. Butterflies stirred in Sean’s gut. “I have no idea. They were gone when I came back. I didn’t want to risk missing you by going to look for them.”

He knew he shouldn’t be moved. The Mateos of the world were only out for one night of fun, but maybe that was what Sean needed. He hadn’t been himself since… Well, he didn’t know who he was anymore or who he’d ever been. All Sean knew was, he’d been unhappy for as far back as he could remember. He wasn’t right now. Mateo made him smile.

* * *

If Mateo was being honest with himself, he hadn’t even looked at Sean before deciding to ask for his number. He’d smelled him. The man had leaned past him, setting a napkin on the table, and the slightest hint of cologne wafted over Mateo. He’d taken a shot. He could’ve ended up knocked out. Instead, sexy green eyes and a sweet smile had turned his way. For Mateo, it wasn’t about looks. He tended to seek a personality type rather than candy. Sean wasn’t that type. He would’ve thrown his flirt to the wind and left matters there if not for Carter’s fucking mouth. Mateo didn’t doubt that dude would get his teeth knocked out one day for always saying whatever he thought without a care for anyone else. Carter wasn’t even his friend. Actually, Mateo didn’t have friends. He had fight buddies and acquaintances. But Carter had opened his mouth, and Mateo had turned his head at just the right moment. He’d seen Sean’s face before the man walked away. Mateo couldn’t let him get away now.

“You bought me a drink?” Mateo wasn’t sure why he was so touched by the gesture. Maybe because he wasn’t nice, and people didn’t do nice things for him.

Sean shrugged. “You don’t want to look like a psycho, sitting here by yourself without even as much as a drink to keep you company.”

Mateo couldn’t stop smiling. “I think it’s a toss-up. No drink and alone—psycho. Drink and alone—pathetic.”

“For the moment, you’re not alone. So you’re neither.”

But he would be in a minute when Sean went back to work. “Still, I think I’ll sit at the bar.”

A hint of disappointment flashed in Sean’s eyes before clearing away. “Okay. I don’t blame you.” He stood. “Enjoy the beer.”

Before he had time to think things through, Mateo grabbed Sean’s arm, stopping him. “Wait. I haven’t given you that huge tip I promised.”

Sean winked. “Don’t worry over it. I never gave you my number.” Sean slipped away in the crowd before Mateo could argue.

Mateo made his way to the bar. He needed something stronger to drink.

* * *

Warm night air washed over Sean the second he stepped outside after his shift. He wished it would take away the scent of food and liquor. Sean closed his eyes and inhaled. His body was exhausted. Sean’s mind was alive and restless, leaving him slightly dissatisfied.

“Mhmm, damn. Every time I see you, you get hotter.”

Sean’s eyes flew open. His heart jumped into his throat. Mateo stood nearby, looking sexy as sin and drunk as hell. He even had the drunk lean going on. “What are you doing out here?”

Mateo smiled. It was slightly goofy and endearing. “I can’t find my car.”

“That’s probably a good thing. Did you drive here?”

Mateo cast another glance around the parking lot, seeming to think it over. He nodded, as if coming to a decision. “Yes. I drove. I remember.”

Sean blew out a sigh and shook his head. In spite of himself, Sean was smiling. Even drunk, Mateo drew Sean in. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“I’ll take you home.”

Mateo blinked several times. Sean couldn’t decide if Mateo was confused or trying to make the world stop spinning. “No. I’ll wait until I remember.”

“Um, no,” Sean said, snagging his arm and hauling him along. “I cannot, in good conscience, let you get behind the wheel.”

Mateo didn’t make things easy. He dragged his feet. “I could be a serial killer or a rapist. A serial rapist,” Mateo said at the top of his lungs, making Sean laugh.

Sean didn’t slow. “I doubt you could get it up right now, so I’m not worried.”

“You’re too nice to say things like that. Plus, I could be a serial killer.”

“So you’ve said,” Sean said, unlocking his twenty-year-old car.

“I could be a rapist,” Mateo said as Sean pushed him down into the passenger side seat.

“Jesus,” Sean muttered as he circled the car. He probably was being stupid, but if Mateo found his car and then killed someone, Sean would have to live with it. He already had more things to live with than he could handle. Sean slid behind the wheel. Mateo had leaned the seat back. “Where do you live?”

No response came.

“Hello?” Sean called as he poked Mateo’s side. “I need your address.”

Nothing. He didn’t budge.

“Goddamn it. You’d better not be dead.” Sean checked Mateo’s pulse. It was steady. He dropped his head to the steering wheel. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Okay. Whatever.” Sean started the car, talking to himself the way he tended to do. “It’s cool. I totally wanted to drag a man twice my size from my car to my couch. It’s not like I didn’t spend the last seventeen hours on my feet. No biggie.” Sean snorted. “Rapist.” With his fit at an end, Sean did what he always did: he let it go. At least he wasn’t alone. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened.