Chapter Twelve
Mateo
You know how some actors say they hate to watch themselves on the screen? I hate to listen to myself on the radio. The fake name and fake accent are weird as shit when I’m not in the booth recording. So when I walk into Teague’s coffee shop on Thursday morning and hear myself, I almost turn around and walk out the door.
Two things stop me.
The first is Teague. She’s behind the register with a dreamy look on her face, eyes glossy, lips slightly parted, and I think, holy fuck she seriously likes Bennett. This makes me extremely happy. In fact, her expression is so appealing I want to hide it from anyone else’s view. That or kiss the shit out of her, which I don’t think she’d appreciate at her workplace.
The second thing I notice is Teague isn’t the only one off in la-la land. She’s by far the most fascinating, but everyone in the small shop—even the guys—appears mesmerized by me.
Or Bennett, I should say.
I take a front-row seat at the table by the door to watch this show. This is way more interesting than I’d expected. Because my Monday morning report is live, I never have the chance to observe people listening to Bennett. Today’s broadcast is a prerecorded interview I did off the air the other day.
I’m killing it in the ratings department. According to my station manager, the number of listeners goes up significantly during my brief 8:00 a.m. time slot. I’m the hottest fucking thing to hit the airwaves in years, so the DJs did a Q&A with me to give listeners a chance to get to know Bennett better.
The questions weren’t too personal, just intimate enough to tease listeners into falling further for my charms. I answered them all honestly. We’re not out to dupe anyone or create a character that isn’t real. I am Bennett. What people hear comes straight from my heart, but I don’t give anything away to jeopardize my anonymity. If girls knew I was Bennett, I’d second-guess every date, wondering if they were putting on a show rather than being genuine. Dating is complicated as hell without my semi-famous personality getting in the way.
“I want to have his British babies,” the woman at the table next to me says to her friend. Her chin is in her hand and her eyes are unfocused. I’m tempted to lean over and say something with the accent, but I don’t. This chick might pass out if I do.
My face combined with an accent is like a gift from the gods. Hey, I’m just stating a fact. I’ve done the British thing a couple of times in bars, and the result is women want to worship me. On their knees in the nearest private spot. It’s a burden I have to live with.
Anyway. My gaze lands back on my reason for being here this morning. You knew it wasn’t for coffee, right?
Teague’s lips look wet, like she’s been licking them, and fuck me. Why did I look away for even a second? I watch her listen and realize she hasn’t moved at all since I walked in. In fact, the other girls behind the counter—hey, there’s Harper—haven’t, either. I quickly scan the room. The whole place is tuned in to the radio show and the workings in the shop are on pause.
Nice.
It’s still uncomfortable as hell hearing myself over the speakers in the walls, but I’ll take the ego boost and suffer through it. Yeah, even my ego appreciates a good stroking once in a while.
Better yet would be Teague stroking— Don’t go there, dude.
Easier said than done. Every time I see her it gets harder and harder—literally—not to make a move on her. Her innocent touches are driving me insane. I haven’t been able to get last weekend out of my head. Falling asleep with her in my arms. Watching the sunrise with her body against mine. It was the best Friday night and Saturday morning I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.
But so help me God, I won’t give in to the temptation. Because once we cross that line, we can’t go back. The friend thing is bullshit and we both know it, but I’m willing to pretend as long as possible so I can keep hanging out with her. She’s fun. Honest as fuck. And gives a shit about others. She’s girlfriend material and then some.
But I can’t have a girlfriend and be the Dating Guy. She can’t put herself in a position to be uncomfortable with her boss. Her job and integrity are important to her. And me.
The problem is I’m not sure either reason is strong enough to tame the way the air is charged between us whenever we’re together. We’re like two meteors heading straight for each other, and unless one of us veers off course, we’re destined to burn up the sheets.
The coffee shop door swings open, and in perfect sync, activity picks up. Someone turns the radio off. The girls behind the counter get back to work. Teague’s brilliant smile greets the incoming customers. I stand to get in line.
She doesn’t notice me, her focus on each person who places his or her order. This gives me the opportunity to study her unchecked. She’s even prettier than the last time I saw her. I know her sunny disposition is infectious by the smiles on the faces that turn away from her. I know she’s meticulous by the way she concentrates while she writes names on the cups.
And I know I could have—probably should have—texted a heads-up about my mom, but I wanted to see her in person instead. She’s become my favorite dose of happy, and her blue-eyed innocence gives me a buzz I’ve never felt before.
The suit in front of me says, “Hi, Teague,” and bloody hell. She blushes a shade of pink that isn’t exactly the color she gives me, but damn close enough. WTF?
“Hey, Brendan. The usual?”
“Please,” he says.
I lean to my right, just enough so she can see me around Brendan. Her gaze jumps over his shoulder and her eyes widen in surprise.
She quickly returns her attention to her current customer before stepping back to grab him a regular cup of coffee. Black with a little ice, I notice. She places the drink in front of him. He hands her some money and a card.
“What’s this?” she asks shyly, working the cash register while she holds on to the pale yellow envelope.
“It’s a thank-you. I’m moving offices to downtown on Monday, so I won’t be back. I hope what’s inside the card makes you smile as much as you’ve made me smile every time I come in here.”
A flush creeps over her face. Her lashes flutter.
I feel my face heat for entirely different reasons. Protective, possessive reasons that catch me completely off guard.
“Thank you.” She hands him his change. “But that wasn’t necessary.”
He puts all the money in the tip jar. “It was. My phone number is in there, too. I hope you use it.”
She sucks on her bottom lip. “Maybe I will.”
“See you around, then.” The guy turns to go, and I catch his smug smile. I don’t believe in violence, but I seriously want to punch this guy’s lights out.
“See you. Good luck with your new office!”
I fucking hate that she’s kind of breathless when I step to the counter. Keep your cool, bud. Teague isn’t your girlfriend. She can flirt with whomever she wants. “Hey,” I say. “Good morning.”
“I told you from day one, Hot Beverly Hills Boy wanted a piece of your ass,” Harper half whispers to Teague while playfully bumping her hip. “You should totally—” Harper notices I’m next in line. “Oh, hey, Mateo. What are you doing here?” she asks, relishing the fact that I heard what she just said to Teague.
“Hi, Harper. I came by to give my girl here a heads-up.”
“Is something wrong?” Teague asks.
“No,” I quickly answer to put her mind at ease. “But I need to talk to you before you take off for your other job.”
Harper nudges Teague out of the way. “Take five. We’re all caught up with orders.”
Teague tilts her head to the right in a motion for me to follow her around to the side of the counter. We walk through the back of the place and out a side door to a tiny shrub-enclosed patio with a round table and two chairs.
“Nice break room,” I say, pulling a chair out for her.
“Right?” She leans toward me as she sits, and I’m fairly certain she sniffs me. “Thank you. So what’s up? You’re making me kind of nervous.”
“I’m just doing that now?”
She wrinkles her nose. “I shouldn’t be out here, so hurry up and spill. Are you okay?”
I take the other seat. “I’m fine. I wanted to let you know my dad gave my mom her anniversary present last night, and she took it as expected.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re probably going to suffer even more than usual today. She was pissed off he planned something without her. Then she was ecstatic. And then she was back to mad when she found out they were leaving tonight.”
“She can’t leave tonight! The Andersen wedding is this weekend!”
“That’s exactly what she said. But my dad talked to Mindy and Leah weeks ago to fill them in on the surprise, and they’ve got everything covered.”
“Oh,” she says relieved…and a little disappointed? “They didn’t mention anything to me, so I guess they do.”
We haven’t talked much about Teague working for my mom, but I get the feeling she’s enjoying it despite my mom’s often-unfriendly disposition. People think my mom’s led a charmed life, but she’s had some devastating losses, and those have made her standoffish, not because she’s a hateful person, but because she has this need to protect herself.
“I’m sure she still needs you to help carry on,” I say, hoping to remind Teague she’s important to my mom’s success, too.
“How long is the trip for?”
“Ten days.”
Teague laughs. “Wow.” She runs her finger along the edge of the envelope still in her hand. “No wonder your mom is freaking out. I’m half thinking I should call in sick to work today. Thanks for giving me a warning.”
“Sure.” Should I warn her off Brendan next? “You going to open that?” I nod to the card.
“Later.”
“Open it now. Let’s see what kind of thank-you it is.” My suggestion is strictly for research purposes. What? I’m being serious here. I haven’t given a report on boy-thanks-girl yet.
“You were eavesdropping on my conversation?”
“I don’t think it’s eavesdropping if I’m standing right behind the guy.”
“It is if he’s not talking to you,” she huffs, looking more embarrassed than mad.
I cock my head to the side. “You’ve never overheard someone speaking next to you?”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “That’s different.”
“How so?”
“I’m not trying to listen. It just happens,” she says decidedly.
“You think I was purposely interested in your conversation with The Suit?” She’s right. I was. But I don’t plan on copping to that.
“What does that mean, The Suit? And yes, I do.”
“Okay, I was.” There went that secret. Jesus, I have zero control around this girl. “But that’s because I can’t have you falling for some guy’s business-grade slick moves.”
Her mouth falls open. I reach across the table and tip up her chin to close those perfect lips. “Mateo,” she says softly. No one says my name like she does. “What are you doing?”
“Looking out for you. We grow a whole different crop of men here in Los Angeles. The Suit wants one thing and one thing only.”
“Even if that were true, I’m here to learn things all by myself. I…” She darts her gaze to the green shrubbery on my left.
“You what?”
She leaves the envelope on the table and presses her hands into her lap. “I grew up totally sheltered from making any mistakes or getting hurt.” Our eyes lock once more. “I was the baby of the family, so my brother and sisters were always looking out for me. When they weren’t around, my mom, and especially my dad, did. He never let one bad thing touch me. We’re really close and he’s always been my hero and biggest fan. But then I dated Rod, a guy we all thought was a nice person, and my dad couldn’t protect me from the awful way things ended.
“I realized then that my family hadn’t done me any favors. I wasn’t equipped to deal with what happened. I pretended I was okay, but deep down I wasn’t. I know a breakup isn’t that big of a deal considering the tragedies people go through every day, but for me it was crushing.” She takes a breath.
I stay quiet, glad she’s opening up to me.
“I moved here to be independent and find my own way, good or bad. I want to succeed and fail without anyone butting into my business. Or”—she stares deep into my eyes—“trying to protect me. I appreciate the gesture, I really do, but I need to sink or swim on my own.
“I know I give my heart too quickly. I know when I find someone I think I can fall in love with I give him everything. I’m a hopeless romantic, but not anymore. I’m a lot more careful now and don’t plan on repeating my mistakes.”
I let what she’s confided sink in.
She picks up the envelope and opens the flap. “Ten bucks says there’s a picture of a puppy on this card.”
“Dinner says there’s a kitten.” I’ll happily take her change in subject and raise her. I’ve got this.
“You’re on.”
Teague slips the card out so only she can see the front picture. She studies it with a straight face. She looks at me, then back at the card. She’s utterly adorable, and I love that everything with her is fun.
Slowly, she flips the card around. I grin.
“How did you know?” she asks.
I give her the shrug that says I know everything. “Guys think all girls loves kittens. Which is probably true, but it’s also unoriginal. And”—I lean forward with my forearms on the table—“it’s a subtle message that he wants in your pussy.”
There’s my blush. And just as quickly, my thoughts wander to what she’d look like if I reached under the table, unzipped her pants, and used my fingers on her. Yeah, I want in her pussy, too. In all the ways.
“You’re impossible,” she huffs again.
“It’s true. I’d also bet that what’s inside the card is a single ticket for a movie or something this weekend. Check it.” It’s the gift I’d give.
She opens the card and sure enough a ticket to the Hollywood Bowl falls out. I have to give The Suit credit. The Bowl is a pretty fucking stellar way to get a girl to see you again.
Shit.
Is Teague going to see him again?
“Wow. Brendan must really like me,” she says thoughtfully while examining the ticket. “What do you think?”
“Of course he likes you. You’re awesome.”
She purses her lips and twitches her nose like she’s trying not to smile. “I meant do you think I should meet him? We’ve never gone out before.”
I sit back and lace my hands behind my head. “No.” Hey, she asked, and I’m nothing if not honest.
“Why not?”
“You barely know the guy. I will give him props for picking a great venue and respecting you enough to meet you there, but…”
“But what?” She tucks the ticket back inside the card.
“He made one huge mistake.”
Her brows arch up. “Which is…”
“A big gesture like that doesn’t work on a first date.”
“It doesn’t?” Teague’s rapt attention is making me hard. Jesus, just this girl’s full attention can apparently command my cock to swell. I drop my arms, shift in my seat, and fight the urge to adjust myself. What the hell is wrong with me?
“No. A first date with a girl you really like is about spending every second with her and taking as much time as possible to get to know her better.”
“That’s a really nice answer.” Her voice is soft, but a vivid look of desire washes over her features.
“There’s plenty more where that came from.” I’m locked on her blue gaze, immersed in some kind of pull I know she feels, too.
I start to lean over the table. She starts to lean over the table. We’re headed for a kiss that has been weeks in the making.
“Yo, TW! Since when does take five mean fifteen?”
Teague draws back at the sound of Harper’s voice. Her chair almost topples over as she jumps to her feet. “I have to get back to work.”
“Right. Sorry I kept you.” I stand, notice she left the card on the table, and pick it up to give to her.
Our fingers brush, setting off a shock. She startles and whips her hand back. “Thanks.” She turns and goes.
“Teague?”
She looks over her shoulder at me.
“If you do decide to meet Brendan, have a good time.”
Her warm glow vanishes, and without another word, she walks back into the coffee shop. I had to say that. I had to imply I was okay with her going out with some other guy.
Even though I’m not.