Page 165 of The Lineman

Elliot straightened his shirt, scowling, while Mateo just kept laughing.

I clapped Elliot on the back. “You’re irresistible, what can I say?”

Elliot muttered something under his breath about exorcising the demon out of my dog before stomping toward the kitchen.

As soon as Elliot disappeared, Mateo turned to me, grinning. “Okay, now that we’re alone . . . tell me everything.”

I blinked. “About what?”

Mateo scoffed. “Don’t play dumb, Mike. You just spent three days in a secluded cabin with your hot lineman boyfriend. Something happened.”

I bit my lip, trying—and failing—not to grin. Then fell onto the couch beside him, pulled my legs up to my chest, and giggled like a preteen who just got her first kiss.

“Oh shit.” Mateo gasped, pointing at me. “You did it. You said it, didn’t you?”

I nodded slowly, my chest tight with how much that meant. “Yeah.”

Mateo clutched his chest like I had just delivered the most romantic news in the world. “And?”

I exhaled. “He said it back.”

Mateo smacked my arm. “Puttana!”

“I know.” I laughed. “I so am!”

He narrowed his eyes. “Did he mean it?”

I nodded, my heart doing that stupid flip in my chest. “Of course, he did, you caveman. Do you say things like that and not mean it?”

“If it gets me laid . . .”

Now I slapped his arm. “Idiot.”

Mateo grinned. “You look so disgustingly happy.”

“I am disgustingly happy.”

“So gross,” he muttered, then smirked. “So when’s the wedding?”

I snorted. “Relax. We just became boyfriends. Let’s not turn lesbionic just yet.”

Mateo’s brow furrowed, and he mouthed the word like a school kid sounding out an unfamiliar word. “Les . . . bi . . . onic? You want to bump pussies? I don’t get it.”

I rolled my eyes. “As in a getting a U-Haul after one date.”

His face remained blank.

“Like lesbians moving in too fast. You know, that’s a thing with them, right? Almost as common as their Home Depot Club memberships.”

“Home Depot has a club?”

I threw my head back. “God, you Italians are thick!”

Mateo waggled his brows, hesitated, then wagged a finger. “Yet.”

“Yet what?”

“You aren’t turning lesbionic . . . yet.”

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