Page 290 of Coach
“Youlove me. They tolerate me.”
He shot me a wink. “That’s more than enough.”
I wanted to reach out and grab Mateo around the waist, pull his tight body into mine, and rip that red sweater off his sexy skin. The look he gave me said he wished I could do it, too, but before I could say something dumb—like how hearing him say “love” sent my chest sideways—headlights swept across the windows.
A second later, a car door slammed.
“Expecting someone?” Mateo asked.
I frowned. “Nope.”
I opened the front door just as Jeremiah—my delivery guy—jogged up the steps, his breath fogging in the cold. Despite the early-winter chill, the boy wore his tight-fitting polo shirt, the one that showed just how far his biceps could bulge and how cold his nipples really were.
And they were freezin’.
He grinned. “’Sup, mountain man.”
“Jeremiah. You lost?”
“Package.” He held up a slim box, eyes twinkling. “Last-minute Christmas miracle.”
I took it, arching a brow. “You’reworkingtonight?”
He shrugged. “Pays extra.” His grin faltered just a little. “And it’s not like I had other plans. My mom lives out west, little bro is in New York with hisboyfriend. It’s just me and Oscar.”
“Oscar?”
He reached up and shoved blond hair out of his eyes. I couldn’t remember ever seeing the guy with a fresh haircut.
“My weenie dog.”
“Ah,” I said. “Every man needs a solid weenie.”
Jeremiah chuckled. “Damn straight.”
Before Jeremiah could turn and stride away, Mateo stepped up behind me, his voice warm. “You don’t have anywhere to be on Christmas Eve?”
Jeremiah hesitated, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “Nah. It’s all good . . . whatever.”
Mateo wrapped his arms around me from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder. I didn’t need him to speak to know what he was thinking.
I grinned and whispered, “Go on. I know you want to.”
“You’re coming with us,” he said.
Jeremiah blinked and crossed his arms, which was unfair given how the motion made his biceps turn into boulders. I wondered how his shirts survived the constant pressure.
“I’m what?”
Mateo was already grabbing his coat. “It’s a big dinner. The whole gang’s going to Mrs. H’s. You’re family now—you deliver half Shane’s life.”
“Mrs. H?” Jeremiah’s head cocked. “You sure? I don’t wanna crash.”
“You’re not crashing. You’re my reinforcements.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Besides, it’ll be better than eating frozen pizza alone.”
“How’d you know I had leftover pizza on the menu tonight?” He grinned, his eyes a little brighter. “Well . . . if you’re twisting my arm. You were my last stop anyway.”
“Consider your arm twisted,” Mateo said. “Great. Let’s go.”
