Mateo leans down, tucking a hair behind my ear before his lips brush the tender skin there as he whispers, “Should we kiss, too?”
Fire leaps to my cheeks, and I shake my head. I’m not prepared for the emotional upheaval that would cause quite yet.
Mateo chuckles and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me into his side.
“Don’t worry, I don’t think we need to convince anyone our relationship is real with a kiss. Your blush is doing that just fine.”
I don’t think I’ll ever need to wear blush again.
I can’t help but snuggle into Mateo’s side, comforted by his warmth, presence, and the ever-present scent of wood. There’s a slight pressure on the crown of my head, and my heart thumps an extra beat as he pulls away from kissing my hair.
It hits me that I don’t feel like a third wheel around Alex and Reina tonight. As my brother and his wife drift off to talk to their own acquaintances, I stay tucked into Mateo’s side.
The man who has planted himself in my heart like one of his fruit trees he fondly talks of.
Chapter 28
Waltzing Into My Heart
Holly
My eyes roam over the room as I count the people I need to talk to before I can call it a night. I wish I could abandon my job and enjoy the evening with Mateo. The thought to quit my job flits through my head, and I let it linger—until my eyes catch a figure walking through a side door.
It’s Jorge.
I groan, turn, and bury my face in Mateo’s chest as much as I can without ruining my makeup.
“What’s wrong?” he whispers into my hair.
“Jorge is here,” I mutter.
He stiffens, and his grip on my waist tightens.
“Guess I’m not talking to the rest of my clients. Also we should text Alex and tell him we’re leaving.”
Mateo’s hand comes up, his fingers gently tilting up my chin until I’m looking into his gorgeous eyes. “Why do we need to leave?”
My thoughts are scrambled, distracted by his calloused thumb softly tracing the outline of my jaw. “Um, because I don’t want to deal with Mr. Toadflax. It’ll be less drama if we just leave.”
Mateo’s eyes, which look at me so tenderly, harden as he glances behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know who he’s glaring at. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Jorge, who I would consider his prey at this point, for how much Mateo wants to hunt the man down. So he doesn’t see my reaction when the next words come out of his mouth. “I’m your husband. I will never let another man intimidate you, hurt you, or violate your space again.”
My jaw drops an inch and Mateo's gaze meets mine, softening as his eyes roam my face, landing on my gaping mouth. “Are you trying to tempt me to kiss you?”
I sputter. “What? No.”
Mateo chuckles as his thumb caresses my bottom lip. A thunderstorm of emotions riot within me, and I can still feel the touch of his finger as he maneuvers us toward the dance floor. “Come dance with me before I break my promise not to kiss you until you ask me to.”
There’s a waltz playing, which is lucky for me because it’s the only dance I’m good at. My parents had my brother and me learn ballroom dances, but I never picked up on any of them like I did the waltz.
Hold on—does Mateo know the waltz? I thought ballroom dancing skills were a lost art among our generation.
My question is answered as Mateo steps in front of me. He positions my hand on his arm, and he holds me in a perfect waltz position, as if he’s a professional dancer. Then he pulls me closer, a change that I’m not complaining about.
Ballroom dancing spikes my anxiety. It’s hard to relax when your brain is overthinking the steps, what to talk about with your dance partner, and if dancing with them is sending them the wrong signals about how interested—or uninterested—you are.
With Mateo, my anxiety is silent, soothed by how natural it feels to be his dance partner. It’s like a cat purring at being held in his arms, guided by expert steps, and content bathing in the scent of Mateo, which I will neverstop obsessing over. He adjusts to every movement I make as he twirls me around with care. I don’t bump into any other dancers as we circle the room. It feels like a miracle, how fluidly we move together.
I avoid looking into Mateo’s eyes, afraid of his hypnotic power and the romanticness of dancing together. The walls around my heart are crumbling tonight, and my mind clings to the last bricks of resolve not to fall for my husband. My excuses seem flimsy to my heart, but I’m not sure I'm ready to let go of them. I may be unbelievably comfortable dancing with Mateo, but my anxiety about the future isn’t tamed by his swoony dance moves yet.
