But I can hear him now, and it’s almost time to head out and pick up Anna from school and take her to ballet.
Strike two.
I need to get it together and fast. I don’t want to lose this momentum I have going with my small business. Even if that means I have to hide from him for the next seventy-two hours to pass the one-week deadline.
And hide my growing attraction to the hottest man on the planet.
I straighten up as I make my way to the kitchen, where I spot Mateo sitting on a kitchen stool.
The second I’m out of the hallway, his eyes find mine. I stagger for a moment before I secure my footing and continue my way toward him. The last thing I need is for things between us to be awkward, so I make my way to the counter separating us and clear my throat, ready to dive into another well thought-out “I’m sorry for almost ruining your kitchen” speech.
He crosses his arms across his broad chest as he leans back, eyes pinned on mine. “Open that mouth with another apology, and you might as well end it with giving yourself that third strike you’re so eager for.”
My mouth drops, and I do a very unladylike Scooby-Doo impersonation. Followed by the death stare I have no grounds to give as someone in a precarious situation, but the Dominican in me controls my facial features so I truly have no say in the matter.
His eyes flash with amusement. As if he already knows which buttons of mine to press to get a reaction out of me. If only he knew all the reactions he could so easily incite.
Jesus Christ, girl. Stay on task and worry about your dry spell when you’re not directly staring into your boss’s hypnotic eyes.
“Well?” he taunts, no longer hiding the small smile playing on his lips.
I place my hands on the counter as I lean forward, hoping this power pose gives me some sort of equal footing. “Me? Apologize profusely for making a mess out of your kitchen, which, in fact, did result in me getting my second strike? Yep, nope. Wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing, Mateo. What kind of woman do you take me for?” I cock my head to the side.
He chuckles, causing his upper body to shake mildly, and my eyes to eat up the slight movement. When my eyes reach his again, all the humor has vanished, and in its place lies a tangible tension.
“Speaking of strikes.” He shakes his head slightly. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
I straighten. “You’re firing me?”
He rolls his eyes. “Dramatic much? No. Well, actually…”
“Actually what?”
“Well, Isabella, it depends on how you handle what I’m about to ask of you.”
To get on my knees?
Holy hell. At this rate, I need a sexorcism.
“What, um, will you ask of me?” I ask, much breathier than intended.
He sits up straighter, flexing his right hand as he does but never taking his eyes off me. “I need you to bring Anna to my home game tomorrow afternoon.”
And like a bucket of ice dumped over my head, the reality of who I work for finally sinks in.
“As in drop her off?” I ask weakly, already knowing the response.
Mateo stands and starts to round the island. A few moments ago, I would have taken in how his workout shorts hang a little low and offer up a sliver of tanned skin. Or how his black long-sleeve shirt molds to his arms in more places than I even knew possible. But as he comes to stand in front of me, my eyes are unseeing.
All I can think about is the idea of being back in a baseball stadium. Surrounded by thousands of fans I fear may know who I am. Or at least who I used to be.
Only when I feel Mateo’s warm knuckles nudging my chin up do I realize he’s been talking to me this whole time.
“Isabella. Are you all right?” Concern laces his tone as his eyes bounce over every inch of my face.
I nod. “Yeah, sorry. I think I spaced out there for a second. No biggie.” I force a smile.
“Listen, if it’s too much of an ask to come to a game—”
