When he’d arrived, the pink-haired girl had been bustling around the kitchen. Sensing Selena was somewhere nearby, he’d turned on the charm and learned Paula was putting the finishing touches on food Selena was going to be taking to a customer. It was easy enough to implant a mind suggestion that she should deliver it instead.
With a frustrated groan, Selena grabbed her cell phone. Hand on her hip, she tapped her foot as she made a call. Apparently no one answered, because she then began to violently stab out a text message. Brows furrowed, she stared at the screen, waiting for a response. “Dang it, Paula. Where are you?”
“Driving?”
Selena’s head shot up. “What?”
“She could be a big believer in no texting and driving.” Without waiting for what would undoubtedly be a scathing reply, he added, “Don’t you trust her?”
Selena sighed and rubbed her forehead. Tucking the phone into the back pocket of her jeans, she opened the refrigerator and peered inside. “Unfortunately, I don’t. Looks like she got everything, though, but I have no idea if she even knows how to get there.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” Mateo said, “she did seem to know what she was doing. I helped her load the car.”
Selena glanced at him over her shoulder and looked him up and down. “You haven’t changed, have you? Always managing to charm people, even when they should know better.”
Her expression softened for a moment, as if she were remembering something pleasant, but just as quickly, her eyes turned brittle again.
Even though he knew it was for the best that Selena despise him—hell, he hated himself for what he had done and would never forgive himself either—he couldn’t deny that it hurt.
Spotting a small glass filled with toothpicks, he grabbed one and stuck it in his mouth. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”
She brushed a white smudge of flour on her T-shirt as if that were more interesting to look at than him. “What brings you here after, what, four years?”
Four years, two months and eleven days to be exact.
He cleared his throat and moved the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. Now for the real lie. “My parents are thinking about selling the family estate, so I thought I’d come back and check it out before it’s gone.”
“And where’s home for you now?” Her tone was conversational, like she didn’t really give a shit but felt obliged to ask.
“New Orleans.”
“And you haven’t been back?”
Not since the night I nearly killed you.
His parents had pulled in all sorts of favors to have that horrible incident buried. Selena’s mind had been wiped. The minds of their human friends who’d witnessed what happened had been wiped. Suggested memories had been implanted with the EMTs and hospital staff. According to his father, who’d proceeded to beat the shit out of him later that night, it had been one huge fucking mess.
But in the end, they were right. He’d just about killed the woman he loved. And nothing, not even love, was worth paying that price.
He shook his head. “Just wanted to see how you were doing. That’s all.”
Her nostrils flared as she pointed a finger at him. “You’re an asshole, you know that, Mateo?” She paused, her anger gaining momentum. “A cowardly, selfish asshole. I’ve moved on, in case you haven’t noticed. I have no interest—none—in hooking up with you again, if that’s what you really came here for.”
Her words cut like a knife. “I didn’t,” he said coldly.
Did she really think that was why he’d come here? A quick fuck for old time’s sake? He was an asshole, sure, but he’d never use her like that.
He looked around the efficient but tiny kitchen, seeing her touch everywhere. Various pans, utensils and ingredients were stacked neatly on the counters and shelves. Selena had always been an amazing baker. Cookies, brownies, pies, cakes. You name it. He used to sit in her kitchen for hours and watch her concoct stuff.
“Tosca Catering,” he said, noting the hand-lettered sign over the door. “Congratulations. Looks like you’re doing well for yourself.”
Selena shrugged as if his compliment meant nothing to her.
“You ever find your mom’s lemon cake recipe?” he asked.
She drew in a sharp breath. “You…remember that?”
“Of course. How could I forget?”
