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“Excuse me?” He slightly tilted his head. “You thought I was offering to…fuck you? Though I’ve been told my cock is magical, and I’ve no doubt it would make you feel things you’ve never thought imaginable, I was only offering to lend a listening ear.”
My face flushed but I wasn’t embarrassed. It would take a lot more than dirty words to do that. His straightforwardness seemed to be a natural part of his personality. He didn’t mince words or pussyfoot around–I had to admit I liked that about him.
It was vitally refreshing.
And as for the apology, he said it with such sincerity I found myself questioning if he didn’t really know the truth.
Did he really believe my sister was dead?
Or was he simply baiting me to see how much I knew?
Sudden unease slithered down my spine and killed the fluttering in my stomach.
This was precisely why my grandmother and uncle argued that we needed to pretend we were mourning her too.
He didn’t seem inclined to leave me alone and my usual brush-off would no doubt piss him off if I hadn’t done so already. I needed to tread carefully.
Mateo was a man only foolish people spoke ill of and no one dared challenge. Yet, here I was speaking to him in a manner I’m sure anyone else would have lost their tongue over as if I’d known him forever.
Can we say suicidal? Getting on his bad side was as good as signing your own death certificate and hand delivering it straight to the devil.
He came with an elaborate, bold red warning label to ward off girls like me from getting to close to him.
It couldn’t be any more ill-advised. That was where my problem lied. I had never been any good at being a good girl. I was defective at doing
what I logically knew I should.
A man who came with a warning label was so much more interesting than a man who was guaranteed to be mundane.
With all that in mind, I chose my next words with caution so I could make a clean break away from him.
“Well, I appreciate the offer but I should really be getting back inside before my grandmother comes looking for me.”
He silently regarded me long enough to make me question if I’d somehow offended him in spite of my efforts not to.
“I think what you meant to say is that you want nothing to do with me, and I’m making you uncomfortable.”
I prepared to promptly deny his assumption but as if he could read my mind, a warning flashed in his eyes and I remained silent.
“I’m well adept at listening without hearing words and seeing what others seek to hide. You have much to learn Minha Beleza,” he said quietly.
I had no viable response to that.
If anything, I was irritated with myself for assuming I could fool him with a boogie persona. To save face, I chose to focus instead on whatever it was he’d just called me.
“What does that mean?”
“Meet me for breakfast tomorrow morning, and I’ll tell you,” he shot back in a casual tone that was unmistakably a demand.
“I’m not a breakfast person.”
“You should be. It’s the most important meal of the day.”
He sounded so serious I had to bite the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t laugh in his face again.
“Lunch, then,” he continued.
“Do you usually try to pick up women at funerals? Isn’t that a bit tactless, not to mention arrogant, and desperate?”
