For the second time in as many minutes, a thought goes unfinished, and we both startle when the back door flies open again. Still thrumming and too aware of the fight happening inside, I move instinctively, quick to help us dodge trouble one more time. The force of my body colliding with his leads to a rough landing against the stucco wall. Then I turn my head in time to see three drunk women trip and fall from inside the bar. They probably followed us when we fled, and now that they’re outside, they seem wholly uninterested in us. Ignoring the shaky breath at my cheek, I watch until they’re coordinated enough to walk away, clinging to each other while one of them calls for a ride home.
It takes another heartbeat or two for me to realize I’ve got a handsome stranger pinned to a wall. My mouth is far too close to his as soon as I’m facing him again. I’m enamored, and probably needy, but neither is a problem that belongs to him.
“Shit, I—sorry—”
I start to step back, but I get lost in wide eyes that seem far from bothered by whatever liberties I’ve taken. I feel his fingers curl intomy t-shirt and hold me there. His chest rises and falls more obviously than when we’d talked with beers in our hands, and this newfound proximity confirms he’s exactly as strong as I’d guessed at a glance. Then he smiles, and if I’d planned to finish my sentence, the apology is long gone now.
“Are you on probation or something?” he whispers.
Or maybe it’s not a whisper, but the entire world feels hushed, and I shiver. “Probation?”
“I—no, I don’t mean—” He stops and looks too closely, but he hasn’t given up on me yet. “I appreciate the swift escape you provided, but I also saw the look your friend gave you before we ran. And that was after you froze.” He stops again and shrugs. “You look like you could hold your own in a bar fight if it came to that, so with him encouraging you to get out of there, and you being willing to go—I don’t know. I guess I was curious whether you’ve been in trouble before.”
“I’ve been in a lifetime of it, but not the way you’re thinking. Kai’s just had my back for a really long time.”
“Why’d you have mine?”
And isn’tthatthe fucking question of the night? I think I’d blow him off entirely, but he’s still holding on to my shirt and he doesn’t flinch when my hand finds his forearm again. I sigh and settle for a safe middle ground.
“We were in the middle of a conversation. I thought there might be more to say.”
He nods. “Maybe I could even get your name this time.”
It’s a line. Or it sounds a lot like one. My wishful thinking makes it easy to answer him. Twenty minutes ago, I’m not sure I could’ve been convinced to introduce myself to anyone.
“I’m Jamie.”
It’s a step forward, but I have to take a step back when he finallylets me go to shake my hand. Some of his hair has fallen free from its ponytail. A couple of unreadable expressions are there and gone when he grins again.
“Hi, Jamie. I’m Mateo.”
“Did you leave anything inside the bar, Mateo?”
“Other than a half-finished beer and the mango chipotle wings you love?”
“Other than that, yeah,” I say.
“Just the unpaid bill.”
“Kai isn’t coming after you for it,” I promise, brushing away his concern with the wave of my hand. “He might’ve closed the kitchen anyway, depending on how bad everything got.”
“Is there a reason we’re not going back inside to ask him?”
“Do you have somewhere else to be tonight?”
He laughs, but he’s nearly as breathless now as I was before. “Other than my empty apartment and its empty refrigerator?”
“Other than that, yeah,” I repeat.
“Well, I’m still hungry.”
I could’ve guessed that much was true, but the way he’s almost teasing me about it settles something in me. I only wish it settled everything. I’m not ready to invite Mateo into my car—one crowded with a couple of sticks, old practice jerseys, and lord knows what else branded withJameson Sinclair—when there’s a chance I can be a stranger named Jamie a little while longer. I’m also sure there are pieces of Harper’s life scattered all over the leather seats. As unfair as it might be, I don’t want that part of my life to complicate tonight either.
For all I know, Mateo is straight, and I have no plans to let the public know I’m not. If this is the only dinner I’ll ever share with him, I don’t want to talk about anyone else.
He watches me until I stop thinking so hard and make him anoffer. “You fly, I buy?”
“Sure. Are we still getting burgers and wings?”