Page 4 of Forget Me

“Okay, so, good chat, but I’m sure you’ve got some muscles that need sculpting.” He didn’t. They were absolutely perfect, but his ego didn’t need any stroking from me. “And I’ve got to leave.”

“You’ll deal with Larissa’s bullshit better if you don’t show up hangry. Try these. They’re delicious.” He reached for the bakery bag, but when his arm brushed mine, he jolted. The bag knocked against my cup of coffee and tipped it. Dark-brown liquid gushed across the counter, straight toward my papers.

“No!” I leaped to pick them up, but Mateo’s solid body blocked my way. Coffee soaked into the papers, melting my perfect pie charts and smearing my lovely line graphs. “Shit, Mateo. That’s my presentation for”—I checked the clock on the wall—“for my meeting that starts in fifteen minutes!”

“Can you print new ones?” He grabbed the kitchen towel and blotted at the papers, but all that did was transfer the stain to my pristine ecru towel. Panic tightened my throat.

“Don’t! Stop.” When I grabbed his arm, he flinched. The wet paper ripped.

Even if I could magically dry the paper in fifteen minutes, a pie chart held together with Scotch tape wasn’t going to impress anyone. My presentation, and my chance to impress Jackson Jones, was ruined.

“I—I’m sorry, Miriam.”

My body heated, and my anger boiled over. “Dammit, Mateo. I’m going to be late, and now I have no presentation. Get out of my way.” I tossed the papers in the trash. I didn’t have time to go to the office and reprint them. I’d have to show them on screen. Except—

Horror dawning, I looked down at the coffee. It had breached my satchel. With my laptop inside. When I yanked it out, coffee dripped from the corner.

“Shit!” I snatched the ruined towel from Mateo and blotted at the edge.Please, please,please,start.I set my laptop on a dry part of the counter, flipped it open, and pressed the power button. A few pixels lit, then the screen went black.

I mashed the power button, and this time, nothing happened at all. “Goddammit!”

His face was paler than my kitchen towel. “Can I do anything?”

I ground my molars. “Get. Out.”

“I—I can ask Lito—I mean Cooper—to get you a new laptop—”

“No!” He might be Mateo’s favorite cousin Miguelito, but to me, he was Cooper Fallon, my boss’s boss’s boss. No way could he learn that I’d ruined my Synergy laptop. His temper was legendary, and even his soon-to-be sister-in-law might not be safe from one of his infamous tongue-lashings. “Just go.”

“But I—”

“Go!” I pointed at the door.

He folded into himself and shuffled away. My apartment door clicked shut as I stuffed my deceased laptop into my soggy satchel.

Despairing, I glanced at the clock again. I’d definitely be late. Neither Larissa nor Jackson Jones would be impressed. And tomorrow, I’d have to ask my boss for a new laptop.

Thanks, Mateo.

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