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“Just work shit.”
“Uh-huh.”
I get the impression I’m not fooling him, but he’s enough of a gentleman to let it go.
The bartender leans over the bar with a smarmy grin as he slides a glass of champagne toward me. “Can I get you anything else, sweetheart?”
I’m about to unleash all hell when Mateo takes my elbow, gently pulling me a step back as he slides between my body and the bar. His spine straightens and he clenches his jaw as he stares the bartender down with an expression that I can only describe as “I’m gonna fuck you up in about three seconds.”
The bartender looks terrified, backpedaling so hard I want to laugh.
“I am so sorry, that came out wrong. Please let me know if I can help you with anything else, ma’am.” He books it to the other end of the bar.
“I could have handled that,” I tell Mateo, smacking his bicep with the back of my hand.
He turns to look at me, straight-faced except for a tiny twitch at the corner of his lips. “I know, Jules. I doubt there’s much on this Earth you couldn’t handle.” The twitch turns into a hint of a smile. I move to pick up the glass, but he slides it away. “I wouldn’t drink anything he poured.”
“You’re right,” I say as I reach over the bar, snagging an unopened bottle of champagne from a bucket of ice along with two clean glasses. The bartender pretends he doesn’t see me, unwilling to go toe-to-toe with Mateo. That’s useful.
“That wasn’t exactly what I meant.” Mateo runs a thumb over his lower lip again, fighting to contain the smile that I know is trying to surface.
I bat my eyelashes as I pour a drink for each of us. “I know. You’re a rule follower.”
“How do you make that sound like a bad thing?” he asks with a soft chuckle.
“It’s not. It’s very… admirable.”
“But?”
“But a rule follower wouldn’t have a personal bottle of champagne.” I grin as I hand him one glass and clink it with my own, taking a sip.
“True,” he concedes. The tequila and champagne are tag teaming to soften the stress of Brenda’s call as Stevie Wonder croons the opening lines ofFor Once In My Life.
“God, I love this song.” Throwing back the rest of my champagne, I tug on Mateo’s elbow. “Come dance,” I demand. He resists but lets me tug him out to the middle of the tent.
“I’m a terrible dancer,” he groans, chugging his glass and setting it on an abandoned table.
“No one cares,” I laugh as he shuffles next to me, so stiff you’d think he was drinking just as much starch as he uses to iron his clothes.
His dad waves at us from his table where he’s sitting with Gran. I notice that he seems to be rubbing his elbow repeatedly. “Is Luis ok?” I ask, leaning close so he can hear me over the music.
“Yeah, he said he pulled something in his arm. Olive has him taking it easy at the bakery this week.”
I nod but keep an eye on Luis, anyway. He looks worn down. Frankly, I think he needs to cut back or retire. I can’t help worrying about him. He’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father.
The song ends and a new slower tempo starts up. I turn to head off the dance floor, but Mateo gently hooks a hand around my elbow.
“Oh, no you don’t. This is the kind of dancing I can actually do,” he says, pulling me back toward him. I glance up at his face, too surprised to argue as he takes my hand in his and slides the other around to the small of my back. I place a hand on his shoulder and let him sway me. The warmth of his hand seeps through the back of my dress, making my skin tingle. I don’t think I ever noticed that he smells nice, but he does. Like cedar and a spice I can’t place…
Holy shit. I definitely shouldn’t be smelling my friend. I’m sure he’s always smelled like that. It just didn’t register because we haven’t been this close since we were kids. In fact, I think the last time I spent this much time with him was the day before he left for basic training. Right before he packed up unceremoniously and with little warning.
The memory hits me harder than I would have expected. I’d almost forgotten how angry I was at him for leaving. My siblings were all off living their lives at that point. Lukas had already left for a summer internship, Asher was opening the auto shop, and Olive had the bakery. Lilah was in school and taking summer classes. As the youngest, I was still hanging around, trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life. Mateo was the only one I had left, and when he enlisted, that loss hit me hard.
“You look so worried, Jules. Am I that bad a dance partner?” Mateo breaks into my reverie and I realize I’m chewing my lip. His expression is still serious, but there’s a glint of humor in his eyes. I usually go for the roguish men. Guys with tattoos and beards, bordering on pirate levels of bad boy. Not that those have worked out great for me in the past... But as Mateo sways us in time with the music, I have to admit I’m starting to see the appeal of those military romances Parker sells.
“No,” I laugh breathlessly. “I just didn’t peg you for a slow dancing kind of guy.” A tipsy couple bumps into my back, hard, and I stumble into Mateo awkwardly. He pulls me closer, my breasts pressed against his chest as he steers me away from them, putting his body between me and the rowdies.
“You used to make me dance with you when we were little. Don’t you remember?”
