Page 68 of Fighting

I throw back my head and laugh, then rest my muddy hand on the back of her neck and pull her in for another kiss.

Towels land on the steps behind us with the soft thunk, and her dad yells, “Don’t make me hose you two down!”

Heart lurching, I scramble away from Nessa. I dip my head respectfully. “Sorry, sir. I’ll wash these and return them to you, if that’s all right.”

“Bring them back on Sukkot. We’ll camp out in the yard,” Gabe orders before heading back inside.

“Soo-coat?” I say, eyeing Nessa.

She nods. “Never in my life has he built one of these traditional temporary structures in the yard. Let alone slept in one.”

Nodding, I have to hand it to him. Game respects game.

twenty-eight

Mateo

“Hey, good to see you, sir,”I say as I shake hands with Gabe.

I slide the reusable grocery bag off my shoulder and hold it out to him with a bright smile. He peeks inside and places his free hand over his heart.

“I was not expecting to see these again,” he says, light dancing in his eyes.

“Ah, I see where Nessa gets her sense of humor from,” I say with a grin.

The dinner between our families was the start of a strong few weeks together. With how well we’re getting along—in and out of the bedroom—I’m fairly sure that we’ve crossed over into real relationship territory.

After shaking hands with a number of local business owners I’ve rekindled my relationship with, I grab a chair. I’m sitting in ‘our seats’ at Lily’s studio, arm stretched across the chair next to me, swiveling periodically to check for Nessa. Where is my ever-punctual girl?

She should be here.

Fuck. She’s been cornered by that walking Brooks Brothers ad she used to date.

She fidgets with the bracelet I gave her, then crosses her arms. The action causes her breasts to move, and a heartbeat later, the fucker leers, and an oily smile spreads across his smarmy face.

My fists clench reflexively. I know she can handle herself, but I’m two seconds from jumping out of my seat to intervene.

Delia plops herself down on the chair I was holding for Nessa and says tersely, “Matty.”

“Cordi.” I mirror her tone but swerve to continue watching over her shoulder.

“Can you please, for the love of cheese and crackers, tell me what is going on with you two? She keeps shutting me down. She evades questions, changes the subject. Is this bullshit, or are you two… you know?”

“Fucking?” I tease, figuring go big or go home.

Delia sighs, her face flickering from irritation to acceptance. She follows my gaze, and that changes the conversation topic quickly.

She drops her voice low and says, “Shit, got to get that man away from her. Quickly.”

Nessa has played things about this man close to the vest. “How much do you know about him?” I ask with a raised brow.

“Not much, but just enough, you?” Delia asks, shrinking in the seat.

“About that much. Potentially a little more, but it seems it was shared accidentally,” I say, raising my hands in surrender.

“I’m sure she’ll tell you when she’s ready,” I say when I catch Delia’s sour expression. “Let me move her away. Can you hold the row?”

Appearing at Nessa’s side, I drape an arm over her and tug her into my embrace. I fully intend to ignore Caleb, but when he clears his throat, I’m forced to acknowledge him.

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