Page 22 of Fighting

I pull the sides of my coat together over my torso and continue on. What have I posted on social recently that could have him calling me coquettish? I have been leaning into this trend a little. Maybe that’s all he means? Maybe I’m reading too deeply into a casual comment.

Or maybe I’m not. Because just then, a familiar silver sports car passes me, slowing. It turns, looking like it would be circling back. But before it can pull around again, a luxury SUV slows beside me, its window lowering.

“Get in the car,” Mateo calls, looking far too good in that backward cap for my liking.

I groan. “Did someone forget to tell me it’s jackass night?”

“Get in. It’s going to storm any second.”

Head tipped back, I survey the clouds overhead. They do look a little angry. “Don’t worry, I’m a wicked bitch, emphasis on theb. I won’t melt.”

“Nessa, please.” His voice drops lower. His protective tone is deeper and commanding, unfamiliar yet comfortable. It’s like wearing a man’s hoodie. The shudder that follows is nothing like the one that hit me at the sight of Caleb’s text. This one is primal and confusing.

Looking in the open window, I chide him. “You’d kill anyone who treated Stef this way.”

He sighs, his expression going serious. “I got a cryptic text from Caleb. I was worried about you.”

With a huff, I round his SUV and climb in. “What did yours say?”

“Mine? Does that mean you got one too?” The hissed question reveals his panic. “Answer me, knucklehead,” he says, sounding slightly more comfortable now that I’m in the car.

“Knucklehead?” Chuckling, I set my bag on the floor between my feet. I pull the door shut and reach for my seat belt. “Okay, talk.”

“He is a creep. He said if you were really my girl, you wouldn’t be walking home alone at night. Dressed this way.” He grazes my wrist, continuing on to my palm, taking his time examining each of my fingers. With a long breath out, he places my hand over the gearshift, then rests his on top.

“His text to me was about how I looked too,” I admit, flustered enough to let my guard down. “Shouldn’t I call the police or something? Most of the stalking victims I’ve seen in the hospital clinic…” I press my lips together, leaving it at that. My patients’ lives are just that. Theirs. It’s not my place to share.

Mateo lifts his hand from mine and uses those same light touches across my jaw. He turns my face toward him and winks—like actually acts like this is a normal gesture for a grown-ass man to make—then leans in.

He buries his face in my hair, his lips mere millimeters from my ear. His breath is a soft puff as he giggles.

“I think that asshole just drove by and saw you looking pissy as you got in the car. Then he saw us kissing and making up. I’m telling you, girl, you might be book smart, but I know people. He’s not only fucking with you; he’s taunting me.”

My stomach sinks. “What do you mean?”

Pulling his hat off, he leans back, then he scrubs a hand down his face. “I gave Stef and Lee my place in the city so she wouldn’t have to worry about paying rent while she’s at school. They’re already on a tight budget, and I did really well at Merrick Paul. Like… well, like there are a lot of commas in my bank balance, okay? I have real estate holdings all over the country that continue to pay monthly returns. While I liked working on large-scale deals, it was exhausting. I asked to take a sabbatical. My boss told me I could, but only after I closed a Park Ave deal with the Reynolds Group. It’s why I asked about him this spring. Caleb was the person I needed to wine and dine to get thedeal signed, but he dodged me all summer. Ultimately, when I couldn’t close, I couldn’t take a leave. So I quit.”

“Quit?” My nose wrinkles. Something smells fishy.

“Semantics.” He waves a dismissive hand.

I cross my arms over my chest, but when I feel my breasts rise, I uncross them. Brow furrowed, I correct him. “So you were fired.”

“Mutually beneficial termination of working arrangement,” he counters. “When I found out that he was poking around here, I couldn’t believe the… the… what the fuck is that word?”

“Audacity?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, that doesn’t sound right. Whatever. He’s a dickhead. I hate him as much as you do.”

My stomach twists and my head pounds. Rubbing my temples, I quietly say, “Doubtful.”

“Well, he’s clearly fucking with us both, but I’m not backing down. I’m here to keep you, and this town, safe from that asshole.”

I suck in a breath at that admission.

Yes, Mateo is gorgeous. Yes, he was great in bed. But that was it. I can’t stand him, and I don’t trust him. Yet goose bumps erupted along every inch of my skin in response to his statement, not to mention the heat pooling low in my belly.

It’s hormones. And proximity. We’ve spent too much time together. Nobody protects me. I protect people. It’s not real. This cannot be real.

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