Page 48 of Faded Gray Lines

“Dan. Dan. Dan the man. Dan—” I stopped, the familiarity of his smile registering somewhere in my brain. “Wait, don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Sliding off the chair, I failed to realize my feet had disappeared. Luckily, the edge of the bar caught my fall at the last minute. “Oops, watch out for that.” Inspecting him at a closer angle, I wagged my finger in his face. “Yeah, I do know you. You’re—” Then it hit me. The shyness. The quiet amusement. The unkempt brown hair. “Son of a bitch.”

Swenson.

The laughter faded from his lips, replaced by a scowl. “Quiet.”

“Did Alex let you off your leash tonight?”

“How about you lower your voice?”

I pushed my finger against his nose. “How about you bend over and kiss my blackmailed ass?”

Rising to his feet, he grabbed my hand. “It would be unfortunate to have to report this behavior to our mutual friend.”

We glared at each other, neither of us backing down as a blur of leather and muscle barreled across the bar and grabbed the back of Swenson’s shirt, twisting it into his fist.

“I suggest you take your hands off the lady if you want to keep your fingers,” Mateo growled.

Swenson released me, and as he clawed at his throat, I jumped to my feet again. “No, Matt—Mateo, it’s not...this isn’t...fuck. Look, it’s fine.” Mateo’s face darkened, and in a panic, I giggled way too much. “This is Dan the man. Dan let me wear his jacket. Wasn’t that chillvilral...chirraval...wasn’t that nice?”

He cocked his head. “Are you drunk?”

“No.”

Mateo arched an eyebrow.

“Maybe a little,” I admitted. “It doesn’t matter if I am or I am.” That didn’t sound right, and I thought about correcting myself, but I already forgot what I said. “Whatever, it’s not your problem.”

He tightened his hold. “He put his hands on you, Leighton.”

Even in my less than coherent state, a surge of independence flooded my veins. Wrapping my hand around his, I tugged until he released his grip on Swenson. “Matty, Matty, Matty,” I said, patting his cheek. “I can take care of myself. You should see the last guy who put his hands on me.”

Mateo’s face twisted, and he glared at Swenson. The traumatized agent backed away, his fingers already pressing buttons on his phone before even reaching the door. If I hadn’t been so focused on watching him leave, I would’ve seen what was coming. Instead, I squealed as Mateo bent down and tossed me over his shoulder.

“Put me down,” I yelled, kicking my feet. “I object!”

He slapped my ass. “You’re overruled.”

“You’re so bossy,” I ranted, all the blood rushing to my head.

He didn’t bother to answer as he stalked toward the door. I let out a frustrated scream and pounded my fists against his back. My assault did nothing but cause him to burst into laughter.

“What the hell are you laughing at? This isn’t funny!”

He pushed the door open with one hand and a cool gust of air hit my back. “You. Me. Us. This whole scene,” he mused. “It’s like the first night we met.”

He carried me the rest of the way to the Tahoe in silence. Memories flashed through my mind—snapshots of one of the worst and best nights of my life.

After gently settling me into the passenger’s seat, Mateo leaned over me to buckle my seatbelt, and it hit me again. Caramelized leather. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply as it enflamed every possible emotion. Love. Lust. Sorrow. Regret. There was nothing like Mateo’s scent. It was crystalized warmth.

The seatbelt clicked into place, but he didn’t move. I opened my eyes to find a familiar look in his. It smoldered with an intoxicating heat a hundred times more potent than the alcohol flowing through my veins.

“Mateo...” I moaned his name, and his eyes cleared as if my voice shattered a spell.

“Safety first. Can’t be too careful.” Giving the shoulder harness a firm tug, he backed out of the truck without another word.