Chapter 4
Selena blinked a few times, trying to understand what was happening. One minute, Mateo had been perfectly fine, asking about her father and eating a sampling of desserts she’d made, and the next minute, he was going completely mental.
Without a word or backward glance, he stormed from the kitchen as if he couldn’t get out fast enough and slammed the door behind him.
Was he…actually leaving? She crossed to the window and looked through the blinds. The rain had really picked up and it was almost full dark, so it took a moment for her to spot him. Surprisingly enough, he wasn’t in the parking lot getting into his car. Instead, he was pacing in front of another business two doors down with his hands clasped behind his head. It looked like he was taking in deep gulps of air.
She wasn’t sure whether or not to go out there to see if there was something she could do to help. In the end, she stayed inside and cleaned up the mess. She still had no idea why he’d turned up out of the blue after so long. It hurt, actually, that he thought he could stroll back into her life like it was no big deal. That they could chat and be friendly despite what had happened. Whatever his motives were for this little visit, she hardened her resolve not to let him affect her.
When she was done cleaning, she pulled the few remaining truffles from the refrigerator and stared at them. These were the rejects. The ones that didn’t look as pretty as the ones that Paula had hopefully taken. Why had Mateo reacted so negatively when he took a bite? She didn’t understand. She’d tasted them earlier. So had Paula. They weren’t that bad, were they?
And then a thought occurred to her. What if her customer had the same reaction as Mateo? That would not be good. As she went to test one again, the door banged open, and she jerked her hand away.
Mateo stood in the doorway, cool evening air pouring into the kitchen from behind him. His hair and the tops of his shoulders glistened from the rain. “Do not touch those.”
“Why?” she asked, more confused than ever. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Throw them in the sink,” he growled. “Better yet, flush them down the toilet.”
The toilet? What the hell? “Mateo, I don’t—”
“You do have a bathroom here, don’t you?” The way the shadows fell across his face, his irises looked almost completely black. It was more than a little unnerving.
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then fucking do it, Selena.”
The harsh language surprised her. When they’d been together, he’d rarely spoken like that. And never toward her.
She took the tray of truffles, carried them into the small bathroom and flushed them. Then she returned to the kitchen. “Better?”
“Now wash the pan and your hands.”
Okay, this was more than just a little weird. “Can you at least close the door?” she said, setting the tray in the sink, turning on the hot water, and squirting it with dish soap. “It’s cold.”
“I can still smell it.”
Oh my God, is he serious?
“Smell what?” Exasperated, she turned on the overhead stove ventilation. “The chocolate? The rum? I don’t get it, Mateo. Have you suddenly developed deadly allergies? Because if you’re allergic to chocolate now, why did you even attempt to eat that truffle in the first place?”
“It’s not the chocolate I’m allergic to,” he said through clenched teeth.
Just then, she spotted a large moth flying in through the open door where he stood. “Ack! A miller!”
He snatched it out of the air with lightning-fast reflexes.
“Don’t kill it,” she demanded. “Just put it outside and shut the door.”
He did what she wanted him to do, and when he turned back around, his eyes looked normal again, if not a little amused. “I forgot how much you hate moths,” he said, the edge in his voice gone. “I don’t get what’s so scary about them. It’s not like they bite.”
She shivered. “Their bodies. They’re just so…thick and furry. And they flutter. And have that powdery stuff on their wings. Ugh. I can’t stand them. Now go wash your hands. You touched it.”
With the shadow of a smile on his lips, Mateo headed into the bathroom. Selena took the opportunity to check her phone. Paula still hadn’t replied.
She fired off another quick text. Everything okay?
He returned a moment later, wiping his hands on a paper towel. “Who made those truffles?”
