Page 150 of Her Defiant Warrior

He gazed into her excited blue eyes and felt ten feet tall, all for pressing a button. “Calm down, Lainey, this is not homemade meal worthy. Anybody could have done this.”

She giggled. “Obviously not anybody. Now grab the paper towels and set the table so I can bring out the food before it gets cold. I don’t think we want to microwave the empanadas.”

“That would be sacrilege.”

“So, hustle up.”

Mateo opened his mouth to say, ‘aye aye,’ then closed it at the last second.

Dammit, there was just something about Lainey that threw him off his game. Maybe it was because deep down he knew she couldn’t have anything to do with the Kraken. It was just impossible.

15

Hopefully, the flan mixito, which was really a total pain in the patootie to make, would result in more kisses. She’d practiced making it after watching four different YouTube videos. The dulce de leche was the simple part, but the flan? That had taken three different tries. The first two were only good enough for the garbage disposal. The third she took over to Lars, who was having a party that night.

He came over the next day to tell her it was a hit with his guests. Of course, he hadn’t eaten any. Lars also wanted to know when she was going to show up to one of his parties as he leered at her breasts. Once again, she told him she wasn’t interested in going for a run or spending time at the gym, and he quickly smiled at her and remembered that he was late for a personal training appointment. Not unlike Matt, when he had shot out of her apartment the week before. Hopefully, all the flowers Matt had sent meant that he wouldn’t pull that nonsense again. If he did, it wouldn’t matter if he bought out an entire florist shop and sent twenty pounds of chocolate. He would have been dead to her.

“Lainey, this is the best food I’ve had since my abuelita cooked for me back in Argentina.”

“Abuelita?”

“My mom’s mother. She passed not long after we moved to the States.”

She reached across the table and placed her hand over his. “I’m sorry.”

He turned his hand over and threaded his fingers with hers. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s the way of life. Old people die. It’s the young people dying that rips a hole out of your chest.”

She tightened her grip on his hand, and he gave her a sad smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly.

He shook his head.

“In that case, how about dessert?”

“I don’t know if I can eat dessert at this point. Maybe a little conversation?”

“Okay. Would you like coffee? I have fernet to go with it.”

“My God, you’ve really gone all out. I only get fernet at just a few South American restaurants in DC and Baltimore.”

Oh, that smile. Hopefully, she’d win the same kind of smile when she served the flan. Or better yet, after he kissed her.

“What are you smiling about?” His voice was quiet. Hushed.

“I like your smile.”

“I like yours too, Lainey. Was that all that was making you smile?” He was still whispering.

She shook her head, her hair brushing her cheeks that she knew were turning red. Matt reached out and pushed a lock behind her ear.

“You don’t want to tell me?”

“I was just wondering what else I could do to make you smile.”

“Oh corazón, you make me smile all the time. Couldn’t you tell by all the flowers I sent?”

“Then why did you leave like there was a firecracker up your butt?”