“C’mon, let’s go talk to her before she heads into the locker room.”
“Did you see me?” Desi yells, still hyped from the game.
“You were—”
My daughter bypasses me and damn near tackles Seraphine with a sweaty bear hug. “Did you see me?” she asks again.
“I did!” Seraphine rocks and jumps, holding Desi close. “You’re a freaking beast!”
They whisper to one another for a minute before breaking apart. Desi flings herself at me and, even though I was her second choice, I can’t be mad. The fact that she even likes Seraphine blows my mind. “You did so good, pollito. I am so proud of you.”
She beams. “Thanks!”
“Be safe tonight. No parties. No boys. No drinking.”
My daughter sighs. “How about yes to a party—with the team—and no to boys and booze?”
“Deal. Check in regularly.”
“I will, Dad.” Her eyes flit between Seraphine and me. “Y’all have a good night and, uh, be safe, too.” She winks and dashes away before I can fully register what she said.Chapter Twenty-FourSeraphine“I still can’t believe she hugged you first—my own flesh and blood,” Mateo says as we walk into Trattoria, Dogwood’s go-to Italian restaurant.
“Forget that.” My cheeks heat before I give voice to my thoughts. “I’m still dying over her telling us to be safe.”
Mateo yanks his hand from mine and covers his ears. “La-la-la—I don’t want to hear that shit!”
I tug on his elbow and pull his hands away. “She’s sixteen, Mateo.”
He nods. “Only two more years until I can send her off to a monastery.”
It’s a struggle not to cackle as we approach the hostess stand, but through Herculean effort, I manage it.
We’re shown to an intimate booth near the back of the dining room. The low lighting and soft music make for a romantic setting, but I’d be happy just about anywhere with this man.
The strength of my feelings for him is honestly a little scary. My once unrequited—or so I thought—crush has morphed into this larger-than-life thing. Mateo’s my friend, my protector, and if I have any say in the matter, after tonight, he’ll also become my lover.
“Have you eaten here before?” he asks after we place our drink orders—a beer for him and a Coke for me.
“Once.”
“Do you know what you’re getting?”
“Not a clue; everything sounds good,” I groan. “What about you?”
“The sweet potato ravioli. It’s out of this world.”
I hum under my breath and read the menu over again. Everything sounds delicious, but my mind keeps straying away from my choices and back to the game.
Mateo’s the kind of dad every daughter deserves—the kind I had. Desi is his entire world and seeing him cheer and clap and scream for her at her game only made my feelings for him that much stronger. The pride on his face as she shot the winning goal may have been directed at her, but it was a bullseye to my heartstrings.
I finally focus and manage to narrow it down to two options by the time our server arrives, but they both sound delicious. I gesture for Mateo to order first, but I’m still no closer to choosing when he’s done.
“Do you trust me, mariposita?”
He’s asked me this before, but tonight, it seems to carry more weight. He’s shown me over and over that he’s worthy of not only my trust, but my love, too. But that’s a whole other issue that I’m not getting into tonight.
“You know I do,” I murmur, sliding my calf against his under the table.
“Enough to order for you?” He reaches beneath the table and pulls my foot into his lap. With a touch lighter than that of a feather, he skims his fingertips up and down my leg.
Shivering, I nod.
“My beautiful date will have the Tuscan roast chicken with the ricotta gnocchi.”
Over the course of our meal—our insanely delicious meal—we talk about everything under the sun. From our childhood memories to cars to Desi’s mood swings. The conversation between us flows like a river; I can’t imagine us ever running out of things to talk about.
But more than that, it is the little touches that really do me in. A graze of my hand, or a brush of his leg. He has my skin tingling in anticipation and my panties wet, all without even trying.
“Would y’all like dessert?” our server asks, snapping me out my lustful thoughts.
I shake my head no. I’m ready to get him home so we can—hopefully—whip up our own after dinner treat. God knows, he probably tastes better than anything on the menu—which is saying a lot because the food here is delicious.
“Yes, please,” Mateo tells her and I deflate a little.
Maybe we’re not on the same page after all. Did my inexperience mislead me? Does he really only want to wake up next to me?
“A slice of the limoncello cheesecake—to go.” He winks at me and my heart soars into my chest as hope fills me.