As I get closer, I can see someone bent over the hood of an older Honda Civic. I have a view of their backside, but I can tell based on body type alone, even through the navy-blue coveralls, it’s Mateo. His foot’s tapping along to the music, and when I scan the room, I don’t see anybody else.He thinks he’s alone.
Leaning against the doorframe, I fold my arms over my chest and allow myself a moment to watch him. Watch as his foot continues to tap to the beat. Listen as I swear I hear him singing along to the lyrics. Observe him in his element.
I have a hunch I’m watching a side of Mateo he doesn’t let many people see. The man doesn’t strike me as the type to let his guard down. He seems to present this strong, iron-clad front. He’s confident, borderline cocky, and sure of himself.
He quite literally seems to be everything I am not.
Like he knows what he wants, and has no qualms about going after just that and getting it.
So, watching him dance and sing along to pop songs, where anybody could see him, has me feeling like I’m witnessing a rare sight.
It’s probably why I haven’t let him know of my presence yet.
The song hits the last bridge, and now I definitely know he’s singing along. He gets a little louder as Olivia gets a little madder, and by the time the final chorus hits, he’s grabbing the tool closest to him and using it as a microphone as he belts out lyrics about being adamn sociopath.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, the smile on my face painfully wide as I clap my hands together in a slow, dramatic fashion. Mateo startles, his back immediately going rigid as he lowers the tool, slowly turning around.
“When’s the tour?” I tease, stepping farther into the space.
The scowl on his face deepens, his eyes narrowing on me. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Clearly watching the show,” I drawl.
He tosses the tool on the cart beside the vehicle, tugging a dirty rag out from his back pocket, wiping his hands off. His face is unreadable, like always. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh, whatever you say, Olivia.”
“Can I fucking help you?”
It’s weird being on the other end of this. Normally, it’s him annoying the shit out of me, and me angry.
“I’m checking on my car,” I say. “I tried calling, but nobody answered. Now I know why.”
“Nobody answered because I’mbusy, and the only one here today. Your car will be ready by Friday.”
“Friday? That’s two days away!”
“Way to state the obvious,cariño.” He rolls his eyes.
“It’s a fucking tire, Mateo. What could possibly be taking so long?”
“It’s called the weather, dipshit. It’s been delayed. Take it up with mother fucking nature.”
Mateo turns his back on me, returning his attention to the Honda he’s working on. My blood boils. He’s so fucking infuriating.
Groaning, I mutter, “It better be ready by then, Mateo. This is bullshit. Fixing a tire shouldn’t take this long.”
“You’re awfully grouchy,” he says, the words coming out muffled since his back is still to me, but I don’t miss the playfulness in his tone. “Sounds like you need to be dicked down again,cariño.” Glancing over his shoulder, with eyes full of cockiness and mischief, he adds, “You should stop by my place later on. Could help you with that… again.”
He winks, and my stomach lurches, his mood today throwing me for a loop. “Not a fucking chance, asshole.”
Storming out of the garage, I climb into the rental car, turning it on. I drive off the lot quickly, steam practically billowing out of my ears. He’s such a fucking prick.
And the worst fucking part is that there’s no part of my body that wants to turn him down. Every fiber of my being wants to take him up on his offer and let him work my body over again with his magic.
It’s nauseating how much my body wants him.
But Irefuseto fall for his voodoo again. I meant it when I said the snowstorm was the one and only time that would be happening.
