Page 7 of Meet You Half Way
“Okay then,” he agreed, still with that soft smile on his face. Honestly, I reckon I could live a happy and content life just being able to look at that face every day.
I gestured with my hand and he fell into step beside me. That was when I realised how intoxicating he smelled, an incredible warm and spicy scent, some kind of vanilla-cocoa mix that must have been sending out some kind of Jamie inspired pheromones. Or maybe that was all just due to the man at my side as my eyes drifted to peek down that low slung v-neck top, a hint of the carved chest on display there. Or maybe it was those light blue jeans that looked like they were a designer label and which fit that snug ass in a way that made me need to bite on my fist to stop the appreciative hum from slipping out.
I really needed to stop ogling him. The poor guy had just watched his friend have a cardiac arrest. The last thing he needed was the on-call paramedic lusting after him. Judging by the looks of him I would suspect it was the type of treatment he got all the time. I wondered if he got sick of that. Always being pre-judged based solely on your looks.
Still, it was a temptation too hard to resist, the slide of my eyes as he climbed up onto the front seat of the ambulance, me at his side to help with the step. Not that he needed my help but I was a gentleman first and foremost and my mother would not be pleased if I failed to correctly attend to the beautiful man.
Mateo was quiet as we hit the road, eyes scanning the side window and not letting me get much of a read on him. I switched the radio on, needing a little sound to make up for the silence in the front seat of the van.
It only occurred to me then that Mateo had probably not eaten all evening and I wondered if that was something I could help out with.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, eyes on him long enough to see the quick glance he sent my way.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Are you sure? I bet you haven’t had anything to eat all evening,” I pressed, wanting to make sure he wasn’t just being polite. As if on cue his stomach rumbled and I huffed out a laugh.
“I guess I am a little hungry,” he admitted.
“There’s this great little diner just off the highway up ahead,” I told him. “Open twenty-four hours so it’s a bit of a favourite with the medics. You okay if we stop there? I haven’t eaten either.”
“Sure if that’s okay with you,” Mateo replied.
“Absolutely okay with me,” I grinned, waiting until he looked at me, that barely-there smile appearing on his face.
I pulled off the highway and wound through the side road to the diner I had stopped at many times on this drive between Wollongong and the base. The arrival of the ambulance in the carpark set off the usual concerned looks until it became clear I was here to eat and not treat a patient and the interest died down.
Or kind of died down. It did not escape my notice how many looks and doubletakes Mateo attracted as we stepped into the diner even if he was completely unaware. I couldn’t blame them. I’d had to look twice to convince myself he was real too.
We lined up at the back of the short queue, Mateo’s eyes scanning the menu board above the counter.
“Anything take your fancy?” I asked, pulling out my phone. “My treat.”
“You’re already doing me a huge favour by driving me home. You’re not paying for my meal too,” he replied.
“Sure I am,” I hedged, not quite sure how far I could push him. “You’ve had a rough day and I want to pay for your meal.”
“I am honestly fine and I don’t need you to pay,” he replied.
I had to smile at the way he so easily put me in my place. I wasn’t usually that easy to dissuade. “Are you always this obtuse?” I asked.
“Obtuse?” he asked, a confused expression crossing his face. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that word. English is not my first language.”
“Stubborn then.”
“Oh, in that case, yes, I am obtuse,” he replied simply and I had to respect that. So I stood back, going against all my better instincts, and let the beautiful man order the steamed chicken wrap and a bottle of water and pay for it himself. I ordered the much less healthy cheeseburger, a serving of fries and a bottle of coke then we took a seat in the red velvet booths to wait for our meals.
The food arrived quickly and I took a bite of the greasy goodness, noting the way Mateo eyed my side of fries with a hint of longing.
“Help yourself,” I offered, pushing the bowl his way.
“No, I’m fine,” he said.
“You sure? You look like you could do with a couple of fries,” I pushed. He hesitated for half a second before reaching across and taking a single fry and just about making my day.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“Take some more,” I said, pushing the bowl further towards him.
