Chapter 10
Knotweed
Mateo
Ilean back and watch Holly nibble her sandwich. My stomach is in that stage where you’re full enough, but kind of a little hungry, but if you eat another sandwich, you’ll be too full. Then again, I don’t need to go out and work on the farm this afternoon. I guess this can be the start of adjusting to a lower caloric intake. I won’t be working the same hours and level of physical hardship as on the farm, and my stomach complains at the thought of not having seconds and thirds of Mami’s cooking.
I’ve never liked dieting.
Good thing my woodworking will give me a bit of physical challenge during the day. I push the thoughts of working out to the far reaches of my mind. I don’t need to worry about that right now.
My eyes roam over the restaurant and out the window as I force myself to stop cataloging everything about Holly’s face. I already have her blonde hair, long mascara-covered eyelashes, and blue eyes seared into my brain.
I glance around at the different people sitting in the restaurant. I lived in California for a few years when I finished my undergrad. The variety of people you see here is something I miss. It’s good to get out of the bubble of Bolt every once in a while. I’m looking forward to discoveringthe California Holly knows. I have a feeling it’s different from anything I’ve ever experienced.
My eyes catch on a familiar-looking man walking through the front doors.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise, and my hands clench into fists as I sit up stick-straight, fully attentive to the new arrival.
It’s the last man I want to see in California—or anywhere.
“Holly, don’t look now, but we’re about to have company. Let’s see how good our acting skills are in about five seconds.”
Holly drops her sandwich, her gaze flitting around the room until they land on enemy number one.
Jorge.
I reach for Holly’s hand, threading my fingers through hers despite the sauce lingering on her fingertips, and she squeezes my hand.
I lean forward, my voice a calm whisper, “Don’t look at him, look at me.”
She meets my eyes and my fingers lightly squeeze hers, wanting to reach over and smooth the crease between her brow. My mind scrambles for words I could say to wipe away her frown. I’m at a loss with my mind zeroed in on our game plan.
I let out a breath and focus on protecting the woman whose eyes are begging me to help her escape our predicament.
I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. I push through and say the first words that come to mind. “We’re in love. We’re getting married tomorrow. He doesn’t matter anymore. I will protect you.”
The crease between her eyebrows deepens and my mind runs through a list of my least favorite weeds to use in place of curse words. I do not want Holly to have to deal with this piece of bull thistle today. I mentally say a prayer of thanks that she filled out the restraining order paperwork earlier.
Holly’s eyes flick away from mine. Her lips have thinned and in a second she wipes away the emotions on her face, putting on a calm façade.
Her grip on my hand tightens, and she’s squeezing my fingers like ourgrip is her lifeline. Her touch does something to my heart that I’m not quite ready to evaluate.
What Idoknow is there has been a change of plans.
Protector mode has been fully activated.
I let go of Holly’s hand and push out of my chair so hard that it almost topples behind me. I turn toward the entrance just in time to block Jorge before he gets to our table. My arms are folded and purposefully flex my pecs and biceps. This piece of tansy ragwort will not get close to Holly today.
I narrow my eyes at the piece of knotweed. “Why are you here, Jorge?”
The man sticks his hands in his slacks, rocking back on his loafers, trying to look innocent. “Can’t a man order a sandwich anymore?”
“Not when it’s at theexactsame time as my fiancée, who has asked you to leave her alone.”
Jorge tries—and fails—to raise his eyebrows, and I tamper down a smile at the fact this knotweed can’t even emote.
“Fiancée?" He scoffs. "I thought Holly was joking. She still owes me a date, considering she abruptly left our last one before I got what I deserved.” He tries to angle his head to the side to look around me, but I sidestep, blocking his view ofmyfuture wife.
