He nodded slowly. “I see. And why wasn’t he right for you?”
That was a question I could never answer. “The reasons don’t matter. But he’s definitely not the man I want to spend my life with. My parents would despise him…and I couldn’t blame them for it.”
“So, a bad boy?”
I tried not to laugh because he had no idea. “I guess you could say that.”
“Still hung up on him?” He asked the question so directly there was no wiggle room.
I held his gaze without blinking, knowing I was about to give the answer that would end this date almost immediately. “Yes.”
He nodded again, but he didn’t seem annoyed by my answer.
“But I’m not looking for a rebound. That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?” he asked.
“I just want to get over him.”
Matteo’s handsome face hardened, his brown eyes pretty when they reflected the candlelight.
“I want to move on and forget about him.” I didn’t need to fill the silence, but the words tumbled out on their own. “More than anything.”
“I can help you with that.”
My eyes narrowed at the words that came out of his mouth so easily. He said it confidently, like a man who wasn’t threatened by another guy. He possessed confidence the way most Italian men did. If he knew what Bones looked like, he might not feel that way. “You can?”
“Yeah. And I appreciate your honesty. Most people would lie about that.”
“I don’t like to lie. Even though it makes people dislike me.”
“I don’t dislike you. I respect you.”
Bones respected me too—but not enough to let me enjoy my date in peace. He’s fucking arrogant for being half my size.
I locked the phone again.
Matteo didn’t watch my movements. The phone didn’t bother him, or he pretended it didn’t.
“Have you ever been hung up on a woman?” I asked, assuming the topic was on the table.
“No.”
“Never?” I asked in surprise.
He shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve liked some women more than others…but not in the way you’re describing. I’ve had the privilege of being with remarkable women, but I’ve never felt anything more lust or affection. Maybe one day it’ll happen. But I’m almost thirty, and my mom is starting to worry that it’ll never come to pass.”
“It will…when you least expect it.”
We talked for a bit longer, and then the food was delivered. We talked about his restaurants and how he got started. When we weren’t talking about anything so personal, the conversation was easier. But it also wasn’t as interesting because there was nothing real about it. I was surprised how quickly I became comfortable with him, probably because we were both honest with each other.
He excused himself to the restroom, leaving me alone with my phone.
The second he was gone, Bones texted me again. Please tell me you don’t like this guy.
What if I do?
He’s a douche.
He seems nice to me.
Arrogant. Arrogant is what he is.
You’re one to talk.
I’m arrogant for a reason, baby. You know exactly what that reason is…
Heat flushed up my neck when I pictured the last time we were together. Where are you? Answer me.
He didn’t respond right away. He waited a full minute before he did. Look up.
Look up where?
In the mirror behind the bar.
I set my phone down and looked at the bar right in front of me. There was a mirror along the back wall, and when I looked into it, I saw his crystal-blue eyes. He was sitting at the bar with a beer in front of him, his back to me. That was why I hadn’t noticed him before, since he was wearing a collared shirt and jeans. His blue eyes looked into mine, mixed with rage, jealousy, and a hint of amusement. He grinned when he saw my pissed expression. Then he grabbed his beer and took a drink.
I couldn’t believe he was sitting less than ten feet away from me.
I picked up my phone again. Are you following me?
So what if I am?
I said I was done with you.
I’m not interrupting your date. If I really wanted to do that, I’d walk over there and make that little boy shit his pants.
You are interrupting my date. Now leave.
He set his phone down and kept drinking his beer, a hint of a smile on his lips.
He wasn’t going anywhere. Griffin, I mean it.
You only use that name in bed. And unless you want me to take you to bed right now, I suggest you don’t use it again.
I dropped my phone again, crossing my arms over my chest. I glared at him across the room, wanting to slap him across the face, and not because he enjoyed it.
Like this was nothing but an amusement, he kept drinking.
Matteo returned a moment later, oblivious to the man staring at me from the bar. “Would you like some dessert—”