Page 32 of Coach
Rough, low, and amused—as though he knew exactly how much damage he was doing and didn’t see the point in mentioning it.
I smiled too wide. “You made it.Ciao!”
Genius-level opening, Ricci. Way to prostitute the mother tongue.
Shane’s head cocked. “I can’t even order at Olive Garden. We’d better stick to English.”
“Right, English, sure.”
God, I was a stammering idiot. Why did I sound like a chipper flight attendant greeting a passenger who just survived a crash landing?
Pull it together, Mateo. This man builds furniturelike it’s foreplay, shows up looking like a Greek god cosplaying as a contractor, and your big opener is ‘hey, you made it’?
Wow.
Incredible.
Please keep speaking. Maybe next you can tell him you like turtles and once ate paint as a kid.
I tried to recover, to stand, lean a little like I wasn’t made entirely of vibrating nerves and thirst, but my elbow bumped a planter, and I took out an expensive-looking tree.
Smooth. Very smooth.
You’re a grown-ass man. You’ve been through worse. You’ve taught high schoolers during finals week. You’ve survived gym duty. You once coached a JV game during a fire drill. You can handle one devastatingly handsome human in a snug T-shirt.
Just stop smiling like a Muppet on Red Bull.
And for the love of God, don’t comment on his arms.
“Nice bulge.”
Shane’s eyes bugged, and I thought I heard the hostess snort.
“Uh, your arms,” I amended. “They, uh, stick out . . . in that shirt . . . they look big, huge really, really huge.”
Shane’s lips twitched but didn’t curl upward.Was that a smile?
“You look good,” he said, as though he’d just summarizedWar and Peace.
I ran my fingers through my hair again because, shit, it’s what I did when I couldn’t stand still.
“Gentlemen, I have your table ready.”
The hostess was an angel, saving me from my lifetime of sin. I turned, sure my back couldn’t say anything more stupid than what my front just had. Glancing over my shoulder, I caught Shane looking at my butt. A jolt of icy warmth stabbed into my chest, and I resisted the urge to pooch it out.
“This way,” the hostess said, her eyes twinkling and a grin parting her ruby red lips.
Chapter 12
Shane
“Ciao!You made it,” Mateo said, all breathless brightness and soft curls over his forehead.
I nearly smiled.
Nearly.
Instead, I gave him a head bob and a quiet, “Hey.”
