Page 83 of Good as Gold
Hell, he could meet her any minute now. Maybe he climbs aboard his first Colorado ski tour of next season and—bam—there she is. The woman of his dreams.
How I hate that idea. Which makes me a terrible friend.
“Hey, want some cupcakes?” I look up to see that the bridesmaid is already back and carrying a cupcake in each hand. “I forgot my beer, so I brought you a treat.”
“Thanks! We love cupcakes,” Matteo says easily. “I set your beer aside for you.” He hands her a cup of Goldenpour.
“You’re thebest.” She puts a hair toss into the word, and I feel grumpy again.
Get over yourself, Giltmaker.
I’m almost thankful when another rush of drinkers arrives at the counter, thirsty for a beverage to go with their cake.
* * *
“Thank Christ,” Matteo says when the band finally stops playing. “Let’s pack up and get out of here.”
We get to work cleaning up, and when we’re finally on the road, it’s already past midnight.
“Play some more tunes?” Matteo suggests from the driver’s seat.
“Of course.” I dig out my phone and press Play.
Matteo laughs when Train starts singing “Drops of Jupiter.” “Okay, not sure this song aged very well.”
“Oh please,” I argue. “This song probably thinks the same about you.”
“What?” He laughs. “I’m aging like a stud.”
That’s alarmingly true. “Just be kind to our high school jams. Didn’t it take this band a decade to get their first hit? They just never gave up. I saw it on MTV.”
Matteo cracks another grin. “Sure, girl. MTV, huh? So you’re not old at all.”
“You shut up.”
He laughs. And then, to my surprise, he pulls off the road at a spot overlooking the Connecticut River.
“Why’d you stop?” I ask.
“Because cupcakes.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the truck. “I forgot I’d put them in the empty cooler.”
“Oh damn. I want one.”
He grins at me before disappearing for a moment.
By the time he reappears, my mouth is watering. “What kind do you think they are?”
He shrugs. “The kind that are about to disappear. Here.”
I take the cake and carefully pick the wrapper off. The first bite makes me moan. “Ooooh lemon! And buttercream.”
Matteo gives me a frown. “Cut that out.”
“What?”
“That noise you just made is illegal in seven states.” He runs a hand through his long hair, gives me an arch look, and then bites into his cupcake.
Thenhemoans, and the sound makes my hormones pop and fizz.
