Because this is Mateo, my brother’s best friend.
Mateo is attractive, but he’s off limits. One, because he’s a farm boy from Oregon, which means we live in two separate states. Two, because he’s my brother’s best friend and that would be weird.
But those facts don’t keep me from noticing his muscles, the way this navy suit complements his curly brown hair, or keep the temptation to bury my nose in the crook of his neck at bay.
They just remind me to bury those thoughts six feet under.
Speaking of six feet under, Mateo’s appearance is quite timely. He might be my ticket out of here and away from Jorge, or he might help me bury the body. Who knows what this night will bring now?
His lips brush my ear, sending a tingle up my spine and goosebumps along my arms. The good kind of goosebumps. “Do you need help?” he whispers.
“Yes,” I breathe out. His grip immediately loosens, and his hands move from my back to cap my shoulders. He blocks the flashing of the cameras,and I’m relieved to let my smile drop for a second.
I watch Mateo as he looks at Jorge. The turn of his head gives me a great view of his strong jawline, the five o’clock shadow emphasizing his cheekbones, and how soft his curls look. My fingers twitch at my sides as I resist the urge to bury them in his hair.
Don’t check out your rescuer, Holly. You’re in the middle of trying to escape. Pay attention.
Mateo smiles, a small crinkle that could almost be a dimple showing up under his beard. The air about him is relaxed as he addresses Jorge. “Hey man, do you mind if I steal your date for a bit? It’s been so long since I’ve seen Holly. I’ve missed her so much. You know Holly’s older brother, Alex? He’s my best friend. I was just thinking about how he said that Holly wants to come dirt biking on my farm this summer and I want to coordinate details with her about it.”
Dirt biking? Really? That’s what he’s coming up with to rescue me? I don’t even know how to dirt bike, nor do I want to. It literally has dirt in the name of the activity.
Dirt and I are not friends.
The hole he’s dug for me gets deeper as he continues talking. “I’ll just be a few minutes. You go ahead and take pictures up there. We’ll catch up with you.” He smiles at Jorge and waves his arm ahead of us toward the next bunch of photographers.
Jorge's jaw ticks, and his eyebrows lower a fraction of an inch. My shoulders tighten as my eyes meet his. There is no way he’s going to pry me away from my Mateo-sized life preserver.
“Go ahead, Jorge. I’ll catch up with you later.” I offer him my professional smile. The one I pull out when I’m trying to fool people into believing I’m enjoying their company or that I’m confident in what I’m doing. It’s pretty convincing, and I can see the single wheel turning in Jorge’s head as he looks at me.
Mateo drops one of his hands from my shoulder, moving to my side andpulling me against him. I’m trying to focus on the conversation and not the way I fit perfectly under Mateo’s arm. Our height difference is smaller with my heels on, and the way my body is on fire where it’s pressed up against him reminds me to remember my two rules for why I’m not going to be interested in Mateo.
“I need to catch up with Mateo and plan that dirt biking trip.” I turn my head and peer up at Mateo, raising an eyebrow, because seriously, does the man even know me?
“Yep. Dirt biking. We have some great trails in Oregon, and your brother has really enjoyed going dirt biking with me. Alex said you’d enjoy it.”
I widen my eyes, and Mateo’s lips quirk, giving a hint of his mischievous nature. I hope he gets my telepathic message that there will not be dirt biking trips in my future. This charade will end at the end of the red carpet.
No, thank you.
“I’ll see you inside, Holly,” Jorge says. His gravelly voice makes it sound like a command.
As if I’m his to command.
It takes everything within me to not roll my eyes.
I’m not going to be seeing him inside.
As Jorge walks away, Mateo’s arm drops from my shoulder. His hand slides from the cap sleeve on my dress down my arm, a river of goosebumps following his fingertips. He grabs my hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm, and smirks at me before we turn back to the cameras.
We walk. Granted, we’re going at the pace of a tortoise, so maybe it’s more of a slow crawl than a walk, but I don’t mind. The more distance between me and Jorge, the better.
The silence between us is comfortable as we easily pose together for the next two sets of photographers. Though we don’t talk, my mind races.
It’s times like this when I wish I had more confidence interacting with people who aren’t clients. What do you say to someone who is a little more than an acquaintance and is on the road to being a friend? How do youconvey your gratitude to your rescuer?
My instinct is to send him a thank you email. I don’t think that would mean much to Mateo; he seems like the type who'd rather hear a thank you in person than read one.
I practice saying thank you in my head a few times. I don’t want it to sound too stilted or weird. Eventually, I work up the nerve to address the elephant on the red carpet.
