Page 48 of Lilacs and Leather

“Come on, it’s just up here,” Mateo says at last, turning to walk again.

I slide one of my arms free, keeping the other slung across his waist with my thumb hooked through one of his belt loops. His arm is a warm, solid weight across my shoulders, and I sigh contentedly. Mateo leads us to the end of the block, turning the corner. And what I see has me stopping in my tracks.

Nineteen

Lydia

“Mateo, why are we at a Denny’s?” I blurt, staring at the glowing yellow sign ahead of us.

Mateo turns to me with an impish grin. “This is where the magic is,” he says dramatically.

“I’m not in the mood to get an indecent exposure ticket tonight.” I snort, shaking my head.

Mateo rolls his eyes before stepping into my space. “It’s not that kind of magic. Not yet, at least,” he says, voice dropping nearly a whole octave as he leans down to speak into my ear.

I shiver, closing my eyes and sucking in a sharp breath. Mateo’s soft laugh brushes over my cheek, smelling of sharp ozone and a hint of the whiskey we’d had earlier. He takes my hand and leads me across the deserted parking lot. I’m still brimming with questions as he pulls open the door and leads us past the empty hostess station to a booth in the back corner. I try to protest, but Mateo slides into the vinyl seat, patting the bench beside him. I look around the empty restaurant and hesitantly take the offered seat. Mateo wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side again.

“Denise? Are you on tonight?” Mateo shouts over my head.

I jump at the sudden noise, pulling Mateo’s attention down to me. I blush, looking at the table to avoid the question in his eyes.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” a booming male voice calls from behind us.

I turn to look, and my eyes widen as I take in the barrel-chested behemoth of a man crossing the room in our direction. Mateo throws his head back and laughs, leaning over me to shake the man’s hand when he’s close enough. Up close, I can smell the grease from his apron, but his scent of dark spiced rum, cherries, and salt pushes through. I look up at the alpha, his deeply tanned face pulled up in a grin, laugh lines deep. His hair is black, with matching stubble along his jaw and neck.

“I’m like a bad penny, Raph. Just when you think you’ve gotten rid of me, I come back ’round,” Mateo jokes, settling back in his spot beside me.

“At least you were kind enough to bring a new friend. How’re ya doing, gorgeous?” the man, Raph, says, turning his hazel gaze on me.

Mateo’s grip tightens, and I shrink back, dropping my gaze to the table. I feel Mateo’s growl rumbling through my arm, his scent shifting away from ozone and toward burnt grass. Raph holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender, shaking his head.

“I’m only pulling your leg. You know Destiny’s about y’all’s age now.” Raph laughs, the sound booming from his gut.

Mateo stops growling, but keeps his grip on my shoulders tight, his other hand settling on my knee.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Lydia,” I say, trying to break the tension.

I hold out my hand and Raph’s giant one engulfs it as we shake. I can feel Mateo’s eyes on me like a touch, hot and heavy. I pull away, intentionally turning to hook one of my legs over Mateo’s knee and cuddling down into Mateo’s embrace. The movement seems to settle Mateo, as his posture finally relaxes.

Raph rolls his eyes but winks at me and Mateo. “Got the good stuff for you, Matty. Whipped it up this past weekend.”

Mateo nods, a low chuckle vibrating against my back. Raph walks away, heading toward the kitchen, and Mateo shifts under me until I’m sitting sideways, both of my legs draped across his lap. He rests a hand on my knee, the arm around my shoulders, casual but proprietary in the best way. I trace a small hole in his tank top with my finger, and he purrs at my touch.

“Mateo Hutchenson! As I live and breathe!”

Mateo looks up at the sound of the woman’s voice, but I’m too distracted by his jawline and luminescent smile to follow his gaze right away. When I manage to tear my eyes off his face, I see a server crossing the dining room toward us. She’s older, her beta scent muted behind scent-blockers, only a hint of carrot cake coming through. Her wispy gray hair is pulled back with a scrunchy, glasses hanging from a glittering chain around her neck. She smiles at Mateo, an open and relaxed expression that helps set my mind at ease. She doesn’t wait for an invitation before sliding into the booth across from us.

“Hello, you. I’d’ve thought you done forgot about us if I didn’t see you in the paper all the time,” the beta says, voice raspy with age and cigarette use.

“Lexi’s got me running all over Hell’s half acre these days, but I’d never forget your beautiful face, Denise,” Mateo says fondly.

Denise blushes and laughs, batting a hand in the air toward Mateo. “You flatter an old lady. And in front of your girl, too. I’m Denise, honey.”

She extends a wrinkled hand, and we shake, feeling more relaxed by the minute.

“Lydia, and I’m—”

“Did you ever hear back about Grayson’s school?” Mateo asks cutting across me before I can correct her.