Page 111 of Pretty ’n Peak

While he’d been looking, other clusters of people had come and gone. There was no way he’d be able to find Mateo in the growing crowd.

He returned to the front desk for instructions, and was directed down another hall. He heard Mateo’s voice first, picking his warm tone out from all the other babble.

He was addressing a small group, talking about how his work drew from his life and his family, and the symbolism of water in a painting. Austin slid to the back of the crowd, enjoying the moment to just be in his presence unobserved.

18

Mateo

Austin was really here. At his silly little art show at the public library.

Mateo felt his cheeks warm. He’d been nervous all evening about seeing Austin again, and even more worried that he wouldn’t come, as the first hour stretched by without him.

Now that he arrived, he felt a whole new kind of jittery energy. It was like he’d been electrified, the streams of energy still racing through him and looking for an outlet.

Austin hung out toward the back of a crowd that had gathered around him, gaze focused in Mateo’s general direction, but when Mateo tried to catch his eye, there was no response.

Probably the distance was too great, but Mateo had no doubt that Austin had sought him out and knew exactly where he was standing. His face held a gentle smile, and he was listening intently.

He was distractingly handsome. He’d obviously come directly from work, his slender form clad in charcoal gray slacks and a blue striped shirt. His chin had grown just enough scruff to make him look sexy and dangerous, and Mateo kept thinking about how it framed his pink lips.

Mateo fielded a few more questions, talking on autopilot. He hadn’t expected to be answering any questions at all, though he was supposed to be available as an artist. The person asking was an art history professor who’d asked if he might visit her classes—something he’d never expected—but she already had his card. He told everyone he was taking a break.

The crowd dispersed, after a few final words with the professor. Austin drifted a few steps closer.

“Hey,” Mateo greeted him.

“Hey.” Austin’s eyes twinkled behind his thick glasses, his grin blinding.

The electricity crackled.

Fuck. Mateo just wanted to walk up and kiss him.

Or at least take his hand and walk through the gallery, describing all the pieces Austin couldn’t see, while the warmth of Austin’s presence coursed through him.

Not that Austin was his boyfriend or anything. But that’s how they’d spent the whole weekend—holding hands. Sitting close. Getting even closer when Mateo stripped off his clothes and Austin took him apart.

Mateo looked down, suddenly worried that everyone would know he was thinking such dirty, wonderful thoughts about this man.

God. What would everyone think? If they suspected?

Mateo’s parents and Maria José had already come and headed back home to get the party ready, but his brother Ian was still here, he thought, along with plenty of people he’d grown up with. People who would report back to his family.

He felt sweat breaking out down his skin, rapidly cooling in the air conditioning.

“I saw your painting in the other room. The one with the three panels.”

“A triptych,” he said absently, still wondering if anyone could see him right now.

But that was silly. All they were doing was talking. He just wished they weren’t in such a public space.

“Oh! I’ve heard that word before, but I never would have remembered it. I liked the painting, though. You’re very talented.”

Mateo’s insides warmed. “How much of it could you see?”

“I thought it was yours when I saw the flowers running down the side. Then I used this–” he held up a wide tablet “–to get more of the details. I wish there hadn’t been a table in front of it.”

“I was told we couldn’t move any of the library furniture. Everything has to stay up for a month.”