My heart seemed to pause, mid-beat. I wanted so badly to ask him point blank if he was enamoured with me. But I was afraid of the answer. It would be bad if he said yes and bad if he said no.

“You said I could ask you a question,” I reminded him gently.

He nodded. “Yes, I did. I am—how you say—all ears.”

I listened to the crickets for a few seconds. “Do you miss your family?”

His chin jerked down slightly and he gave me a funny look. “Do I miss my family? Of course I do. Why you ask?”

“I’m just curious,” I said. “Because I don’t miss mine. I don’t know what’s normal.”

“You miss your brother,” he assumed.

I nodded. “I do. I wish he was here with me, though.”

“You can miss people without wanting to be home. I wish my daughter was here.”

My face softened. “Oh yeah? Chloe Ann?”

“Yes,” he said warmly. “She would love it here very much. She loves animals. She would love the fields and the fat pigs and the horses down the road there. You would like her very much. And she would like you. You have the same sense of adventure.”

And now came the time for the question I could have ignored. “What about your wife. Do you miss her? Do you wish she was here?”

A hesitant look came into his eyes and he chewed on his lip. Finally he put the beer bottle down beside him and stared at his hands, blankly. “I could give you the good answer and tell you yes. But I would be lying and I don’t wish to lie to you, Vera.” He sighed while I was left wondering if it was he didn’t miss her or didn’t want her here…or if they were both the same thing. “As I said to before, women are complicated. My relationship with Isabel is…complicated.”

“Well,” I said somewhat awkwardly, trying to pave over it, “what relationships aren’t complicated?”

He gave me a sharp look. “The good ones.”

The thing is, I had to agree with him. That’s why I wasn’t even in relationships. Wham, bam, thank you dude, was way easier than getting your heart trampled on. The last relationship I was in nearly broke me to pieces. There was no way I’d ever go down that route again. And so, I hadn’t.

I kept all of that to myself though and only said, “I understand.” I could sense that he wanted to know more but so far my love life was not even close to being on the table.

“Vera, Mateo!” Angel’s slurred English interrupted us.

We both twisted around to see him stumbling toward us with a glass of wine in his hands and a stupid smile on his face. His white shirt was stained with purple red.

“Angel,” Mateo acknowledged him, pronouncing the “g” softly, like an “h.”

“I was sent here to tell you something,” Angel said, swaying a bit on his feet, his expression absolutely exuberant. It was only then that I was aware of the loud voices, music and laughter coming from the patio area. Their drinking game must have accelerated while I was in my own little world.

Our own little world.

“Yes, what is it?” Mateo asked him impatiently. He didn’t seem to appreciate the interruption either.

Angel’s eyes rolled back in thought and he rapidly tapped his fingernail against the wine glass. “Sammy…,” he paused. “Sammy told me to tell you ‘cunt.’ And if I said it, she would show me hers!”

Then he collapsed into a fit of impish giggles, turned on his heel and ran all the way back to the patio, his wine continuing to spill everywhere. A chorus of laughter erupted in the distance, everyone finding Angel’s dare hilarious.

I looked back at Mateo, my brow cocked. “Wow, you Spaniards are being corrupted more and more each day. Have you picked up any English that isn’t a bad word?”

Mateo chuckled and eased himself off the wall. “Wait until we have a chance to speak Spanish, I will teach you all the bad words.”

My face fell a little. “We’ll have to find the time before you leave. It probably won’t be tolerated until your last day.”

His smile was sad. He held out his palm, waiting for my hand. “Less than two weeks,” he noted softly.

I put my hand in his and let him help me off of the wall. Together we walked hand in hand until we were out of the dark and into the light. He then let go, but not before giving my hand a squeeze.

Chapter Ten

“Vera, get your butt over here!”

I opened my eyes and stared at the dark wood paneled ceiling. Sun streamed in through the open French doors, as did the shouts of whoever the hell was interrupting my nap.

I blinked a few times and slowly sat up. I’d passed out on the couch, my SLR camera on my stomach as I’d been reviewing all the photos I’d taken of the trip so far. I had no idea what time it was, but I had left lunch a little early, hoping to sneak in extra shut-eye.

After Mateo and I went back to join the makeshift party, I only stayed for about twenty minutes before I wanted to go back to my place. I was horny as hell and staring at Mateo as he drank another beer, knowing how soft his hair felt to my hands, was absolute torture for me. I went straight back to my room, locked the door, and brought out my vibrator. Normally my hands would have done the trick, but not for what I was envisioning.

Unfortunately, even after five orgasms in a row, imagining Mateo thrusting into me, jerking off, going down on me, I still hadn’t found the peace I so desperately craved. I tossed and turned all night and practically sleepwalked through the morning sessions.

After the nap, I still wasn’t that refreshed, probably because some hooligan was outside yelling at me. I growled in frustration and then got up. I flung myself at the iron railing and screamed, “WHAT?!” my hair blowing around me like a lion’s mane.

Down and across from me on the lawn of the dining hall a ragtag group of people had gathered, maybe a dozen.

I could see Mateo standing on the side of the group, wearing what looked to be jeans, a t-shirt and running shoes. My god, not a slick suit in sight!

At the front of the group was Eduardo who was wearing ridiculously tight shorts, knee-high socks and had a soccer ball under his arm. “We need another Anglo to make this even!” he yelled right back.

Didn’t these people realize that not only did I need some alone time each day, but I hated most sports. Give me tennis, give me skiing, give me my horseback riding but never sign me up for a god damn team sport.

Plus, Mateo was there and his forest green t-shirt showed off the V shape of his upper body, the strength of his tanned arms and his jeans looked really worn in, in that sexy mechanic kind of way. I couldn’t see his ass but I knew it looked amazing.

Maybe you’ll burn off your crazy libido, I thought to myself as I was getting hot and bothered all over again. It was either going to help or make it worse. Seemed I couldn’t really win while I was here.

I grumbled to myself and retreated to my room where I slipped on a pair of jean shorts that I knew made my ass look fine and my Chuck Taylors. Not the best soccer shoe but it would have to do. I quickly gulped down a glass of water at the sink and then ran down the stairs to join them.

“Okay,” I announced, waving my hands in the air. “I’m here, I’m here.”

I briefly made eye contact with Mateo before I was immediately sequestered over to the Anglo’s side. At least I got to see him turn around and join his team, proving that yes, his firm ass looked deliciously biteable in those jeans. Damn it.

“Vera!” Lauren snapped.

Oh great, she was here. I slowly turned around and glared at her.

She was already glaring at me through her glitter glasses, eyeing my boobs angrily. Was it because I was wearing an American Apparel top again? I thought we already went over this.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing a sports bra,” she said, “or something more appropriate for the sport?”

I somehow both raised my brows and narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?”

Sure this top showed skin, but most of my shirts did. When did she become the cleavage police? Wasn’t she supposed to be a feminist?

Wayne stepped forward, dressed head to toe in Nike gear that looked like it was being used for the first time. He was trying really hard not to look at my boobs. “As team captain here, I say that what Vera is wearing is fine.”

“You too?” Lauren scoffed, turning to look at him, which kind of reminded me of Linda Blair in The Exorcist when her head goes all the way around. “What is it with you married men? Does the sanctity of marriage vows mean nothing anymore?”

Wayne’s expression turned into that of a scolded child. “I’m sorry?”

“I have to agree with Lauren,” Tyler said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Your top is distracting.”

“Shut up, you Brony,” I said. He looked appalled while I heard Wayne whisper, “What’s a Brony?”

“Come on, you guys,” Polly admonished, bouncing back and forth on each leg. Though she was wearing a tight t-shirt, her fake boobs still jostled around and yet Lauren wasn’t signalling her out. “It’s just a stupid football match. Let’s just play. Who gives a rat’s arse what anyone is wearing, I want that damn dinner.”

Apparently whatever team was going to win the match next week was going to get treated to a dinner in a fancy restaurant out in town, like we were episode winners on a reality show or something. The thing was, I didn’t want to spend yet another dinner with some of these people. If I won a dinner by myself, then yes, that would be a prize.