She laughs against me. “Sounds good, caveman. Let’s go. I’ve got mingling to do.”
She leans back, but I’m not ready to let her go yet. Holly fits perfectly in my arms, and holding her has calmed my adrenaline-spiked heart faster than any drug. It’s like God sent her to me knowing she’s the piece of the puzzle I need to feel at peace.
My eyes meet hers. “Holly, I haven’t said this enough, but I’m sorry Jorge violated your space and boundaries. I’m sorry he hurt you. I’m sorry your parents hurt you. If my protectiveness came off too strongly, I apologize. I care about you, Holly. I want to protect you. You’re my wife.”
Holly leans forward, hugging me before stepping out of my embrace. “Let’s go, farm boy.” She loops her arm through mine and escorts me back into the room.
“As you wish, Buttercup.”
Chapter 22
Lunch Laddie
Holly
The words on my computer screen blur as I read the opening paragraph of the legal document for the fifth time. I’m tired of having to work with legal teams and managers who want to twist everything to work for them. This document is a mess, and I already have so many notes on what needs to change.
I keep scrolling but I’m still not reading the words and instead count the pages left in the document. Words mean a lot to me, but these legal ones fill my head with cotton.
Discontent creeps into my chest, and the bitter flavor of being unsatisfied with my job fills my mouth, not for the first time in the past few months. I’m tired of all the hoops, papers, and press releases.
My hand reaches for the bottom drawer of my desk on instinct. It slides open easily and I quickly flip through my folder of thank-you cards before finding the one I want.
The card is beautiful, with Poinsettia flowers on the front and “thank you” accented with gold foil across the floral arrangement. The words of praise on the inside are almost as beautiful as the card itself. The compliments buoy me up, as they always do when I resort to reaching for acard from my confidence drawer. It’s why I call it my confidence drawer. Nobody else knows it exists, but I feel like it’s a great name for it. The thank-you notes and cards I’ve received over the years have piled up, but each one still brings me that burst of encouragement I need when words blur and I question why I chose this profession.
These people need me, and I’m good at what I do.
There’s a tap on my door and I scramble to file the card back in the right place. I push the drawer in just as Mateo opens the door wide enough to fit him and the tray of food he’s holding. His head is angled, holding his phone between his ear and his shoulder and he smiles at me.
“Yes, Mami. I will text you about the plan for the peaches. It’s written in the plan for the harvest season I left for Dad. I did include the peaches you want for your products for the market in the estimation.” He stops next to my desk, his eyes distant as he listens to his mom.
“Yes, I know you want to make your products, which is why I included it in the plan this year. Why don’t you go ask Luca about it? I hired him as an assistant for this reason, Mami. I’m only supposed to be working on the admin tasks while I’m here, and you know that I always plan your projects into the harvest estimation.”
He rolls his eyes and from the look on his face he didn’t expect to still be on the phone when he came into the room. I’m distracted from the hilariousness of his reaction by the plate he sets down on my desk.
My mouth waters as I take in the beautiful sandwich and hand-tossed salad. I look down at the clock on my computer and notice it’s past noon.
“Did you go get me lunch?” I whisper at Mateo, who stands with a hand on his hip, frustration pulling his eyebrows together.
He shakes his head at my question. “Mami, ya me voy. I need to talk to Holly.” There’s a pause as he listens to what she says. “Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow. Yes, I’m taking care of my wife. Yes, I used fresh produce. Yes to all the questions. Now I need to go and spend some time with my wife. Te quiero, Mami.”
With that, he hangs up and tosses his phone on the couch by the window before turning back to me. He shakes off whatever frustration he was feeling and stands before me, hands on his waist and looking utterly confident.
His smile is wide and relaxed as he gestures to my plate. “I made lunch. I decided that it’s easy enough to make food for two people, not just one. So consider me your new lunch laddie.”
I quirk my eyebrow at him. “Lunch laddie?”
He shrugs, his grin wide and infectious. “Yeah, like lunch lady, but I’m a dude. So lunch laddie. Gives me that Scottish vibe all the ladies love.”
I laugh. Seriously, where does he come up with these things?
“It looks delicious. Did you really make it yourself?”
He brushes imaginary dust off his shoulder and buffs his nails on his shirt. “Oh yeah. Mami decided I needed to know how to cook and make food so I could survive going to university without falling prey to processed foods and ramen for every meal. I know how to make a mean sandwich. The salads are a newer skill, but I think I did a pretty good job.”
I grab the fork and poke at the salad, intrigued by the pomegranate seed garnish and the vinaigrette that’s making my mouth water by the smell alone. “It smells so good. Thank you. I hadn’t realized what time it was.”
His smile softens as he tucks his hands in his pockets. “I know you mentioned on Tuesday that you often work through lunch. It took me a few days to figure out how I wanted to fix that, but I think this works great.”
