Page 189 of Coach
“Two IPAs, gentlemen.” The waiter saved me before I could break out into a sweat.
I snatched up my glass stein and threw it back, draining half the glass in one pull. Mateo gaped as I set the mug down and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“What?” I asked, pretending to not understand how brutish I’d just appeared. “I was thirsty.”
He chuckled, his eyes crinkling in the happiest way, then lifted his own mug and downed half in a slightly longer pull—but still in only one, just like mine. When his stein thunked against the table, he grinned and winked. “Try to keep up, big guy.”
For the first time in . . . I couldn’t remember how long . . . I smiled. It wasn’t one of those “thank you for your business” grins I gave customers. No, it was an unrestrained, unhindered expression of pure joy that I’d almost forgotten how to express. I felt it deep inside, as though it were a tangible, tickly thing that needed me to acknowledge its existence.
“Did the great Shane Douglas just smile?”
My head ducked.
“And now he blushes?Cara Dio, what is happening here?”
“Shut up,” I growled as I tried to force the curl from my lips. “You don’t know me. I smile plenty.”
Mateo leaned forward, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. “Oh, really now? What was the last thing that made you smile?”
I stared . . . and blinked. He was calling my bluff.
Bastard.
I couldn’t tell him that seeing him staring at my wet body after I’d spilled my water was the last time I’d smiled. His ego, clearly, was already too healthy for his sexy frame.
Before that?
I thought a moment. My lips pursed into a tight line again. My brow furrowed.
“It wasn’t a trick question,” he said, leaning back and crossing his arms.
My head lowered again as I mumbled, “I’m just quiet . . . and kinda serious, I guess . . . but I smile, inside, where it counts.”
He barked a laugh. “You’ll get an ingrown smile that way. Those are hard to treat.”
My brow furrowed again, then two brain cells collided, and I chuckled.
“See! That’s twice in how many minutes. Maybe you just need the right motivation.”
Huh. Had this man cracked my code in the first half hour of our first date? I’d been searching for the damn combination for thirty years. Who was this freak of nature?
“Enough about me. Who are you? Where are you from? Family? Talk.”
“Stoicandbossy. Noted.” He snickered, uncrossed his arms, and flashed a toothy grin.
And that darned critter tickling the inside of my chest did its dance again, right as the waiter reappeared to take our order.
Chapter 13
Mateo
The moment we sat, my nerves settled.
When the beer battle began, my confidence swelled.
When Shane smiled, then blushed, the game was on.
And I hated to lose. Likeseriouslyhated it. With a passion only a true Italian understood, I despised second place.
