Monster mash, p.11
Monster Mash, page 11
“When’s the wedding?”
Finally, a sensible question, and one I had an answer to. “June twenty-sixth, so we have just over six weeks.”
He pressed his lips together and nodded thoughtfully. “That is a tight deadline, but doable. I can put together a proper tasting in three, four days.”
“Three or four?” I asked, desperate for him to commit to something.
Matteo shrugged. “You pick. I’ll make it work.”
I let out an exasperated sigh and massaged my temples. This was a nightmare. Without my phone, I couldn’t remember half of today’s appointments, let alone where I was supposed to be in three days. The one thing I could be sure of was that my clients left their schedules clear on Saturdays.
“How about Saturday?” I blurted. “Eleven o’clock?”
“Awesome,” he replied casually and reached to wash his hands.
I frowned. “You don’t want to write that down somewhere or something?”
“Nope,” he replied, drying his hands on his shirt.
He eyed me curiously, and I blushed under his intense stare. What the fuck are you staring at? Take a picture, ya tool. It’ll last longer. I crossed my arms and looked away, face burning. He let out an amused snort, and I was horrified when my cock reacted, twitching in my pants.
“Not gonna put our very important date in your phone, eh?” he asked.
“It’s not a date,” I shot back, glaring at him. “It’s business.”
Matteo shrugged. “Whatever you say, Sugar.” He crossed the bakery floor and my face warmed when he put a hand behind my shoulders, guiding me toward the door. “Don’t you worry your pretty face. I’ll have everything ready for the VIPs.”
“M-My bags,” I stuttered, trying to squirm out of his grasp, but the minotaur wouldn’t have it.
He snorted and shook his head. “I’ll bring them out to you. In the meantime, you’re gonna sit and have a cookie while I make you up an appointment card and call you a car. Can’t have your blood sugar bottoming out with all your important meetings, now can we?”
I wanted to object, but what was I going to do? Use the crushed remnants of my non-existent phone to call another Lyft? Besides, I’d skipped breakfast to make my first meeting, and I was absolutely famished. A cookie might be exactly what I needed.
I flushed hot, but I let him escort me out to the bakery floor where he seated me at a table. A moment later, he returned, placing a plate of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies in front of me along with a glass of ice-cold milk.
“Eat, Sugar,” he urged. “You’ll feel better.”
I didn’t even care that the plate itself was a gaudy pink that I was sure they’d outlawed about the same time as Hammer pants went out of fashion. You’d have to be a complete gobshite to say no to free cookies and milk.
I couldn’t get the human out of my head. It wasn’t often that someone caught my interest, and I wasn’t sure what it was about him that fascinated me so. Maybe it was the accent. I’d always had a thing for European guys, but a human? That was a surprise, even to me.
When he was still on my mind the next day, I decided not to open the shop and drive up to Santa Monica to hit the open-air market. There were plenty of markets around L.A. but the one up north just hit different. It was closer to the beach for one, and getting all that extra sunshine and fresh air plus the sea breeze… It reminded me of the summers I spent with my cousins in Puerto Rico. If I wasn’t so in love with L.A. and all the luxuries I enjoyed there, I might’ve never left. Those summers were the happiest—and sweetest—times of my life, and how I had fallen in love with baking.
There was a little bakery down the street from my cousin’s place, and the street always smelled like freshly baked sweets. They had these delicious guava and cheese stuffed puffed pastries that I loved. They were simple and cheap, but I adored them.
When I came back to the states, I looked everywhere but couldn’t find them, which led to me learning to make them myself, unlocking a lifetime passion.
Some people might say a bull had no place in the kitchen, especially not making delicate pastries and cakes, but I’d never concerned myself much with what other people thought. Sweets made me happy. Scratch that. Sweets made everybody happy. It’s like I always said: it’s impossible to eat flan with a frown.
I took my time browsing the market, weaving in and out of stalls where purveyors invited me to try samples. I filled my basket with fresh plantains, pineapples, and pecans by the pound. A spice shop had vanilla beans and cinnamon sticks, so I bought as much as I could use before they went bad. The older Latina lady running the stand said her granddaughter’s quinceañera was coming up, so I left her with my card and promised her a discount if she brought me more cinnamon.
I hung the bags from my horns to keep from bumping into people in the crowded market. The last thing I wanted to do was bruise the plantains before I could fry them up.
Maybe I should get a nice rum, I thought, perusing one of the end stalls. Then I could make a nice brown sugar rum sauce. Or I could make a pineapple rum cake. I didn’t know if either would sell at the shop, but I didn’t quite care. If they didn’t sell, I’d take them off the shelves the day before they went stale and donate them at one of the local homeless shelters or soup kitchens. Everyone deserved a sweet smile once in a while.
“I just don’t see the point,” a familiar voice said.
My ears perked, and I stood up a little taller to see over the crowd of monsters mulling through the market. There, on the other side of a stall selling straw hats and sandals, was Ezra, the tiny, nervous wedding planner. He was strolling down the main thoroughfare next to an itherie, a tall, tentacled monster well-known for their telepathic touch. The itherie wore an expensive suit and glasses.
What were the chances that we’d run into each other again? Here, of all places, where I’d gone to try not to think about him?
Ezra twitched away from a pair of kraken passing by, tentacles intertwined. “Why come all the way down here when I could just have my groceries delivered?”
“What about the market don’t you like?” the itherie asked, tentacles clasped behind his back.
Ezra frowned. As much as I hated to see that expression on his face, it didn’t decrease his attractiveness, not one bit. “I don’t know. The crowds? There are so many people I can’t think.”
“So, if the market were less busy, you might enjoy it?”
“I…” Ezra glanced around and froze when his eyes settled on me. His eyes flared wide, and he lifted a hand to his face, ducking behind it as if he could hide. “Shit. I think he saw me.”
Might as well, I thought and slipped around the stall, painting a wide and welcoming smile on my face. “Ezra Higgins! Nice to see you again!”
Ezra pressed his full lips into a line and swallowed. “Mr. Reyes.”
I snorted and took his hand, shaking it, though he hadn’t offered it. “Mr. Reyes is my papa. You know you can just call me Matteo, Sugar.”
I shook his hand lightly, but it still seemed to rattle him enough that he had to reach to adjust his glasses, which had gone cockeyed. He ran his fingers through his bright red hair and he must’ve had some hairspray or gel in there or something because it stuck in exactly the position he moved it into. Something about that sweet, disheveled look on him made my blood run hotter. I wanted to see him like that naked. No, maybe even more wrecked, his face flushed with pleasure.
The itherie tipped his head to one side, arching the ridge above his right eye. “Who’s your friend, Ezra?”
“This is Matteo Reyes. He runs Beefcakes and we’re more acquaintances than friends,” Ezra insisted.
“We’re collaborating on the Amoretti-Northstar wedding,” I explained. “Are you two…?”
Part of me hoped they were an item. At least then, it’d be the excuse I needed to push Ezra from my mind to pursue someone else. Not that there was anyone else outside of the occasional date I got through all the apps I was on. It wasn’t that my standards were unmeetable or anything. I just couldn’t find anyone I clicked with. Maybe it was stupid, but I usually knew within a few minutes if I was going to like someone or not, and Ezra had hit that button hard and fast for me. Letting him go would be difficult, but maybe a little easier if he was already spoken for. I was a lot of things, but a home wrecker would never be one of them.
But Ezra and the itherie looked at each other and the latter let out an amused chuckle while Ezra tugged on his collar and looked away.
“No, no,” said the itherie. “Ezra and I are just out for a stroll. I’m Yeeri Federi.”
We bowed to each other because shaking an itherie’s tentacle was impolite.
“Doctor Federi,” Ezra added, chewing his lip. “And we’re in the middle of a very expensive appointment.”
“I see.” I glanced back and forth between them, more than a little disappointed at the curt dismissal.
“Now, Ezra,” Dr. Federi chided. “This outing is all about socializing and enjoying the fresh air, which is much better than the stale office air, isn’t it?”
Ezra grumbled something I didn’t quite catch, but I could tell he wasn’t interested in socializing. As much as I enjoyed his company, I didn’t want to do it on his dime. “Ah, well, I don’t want to hold you up,” I said and lifted my basket. “I was just out grabbing some ingredients for a special baking project. I’m glad we ran into each other again, though, Ezra. There was something I wanted to ask you, but it can wait until we run into each other again. I don’t want to interrupt your appointment.”
Ezra blinked and stopped slouching. “Wait,” he called as I made to move away. He glanced over at the doctor, his cheeks flushing slightly. He cleared his throat. “What was it you wanted to ask me?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Tell you what. Why don’t you give me your number and we can set something up?”
He sighed. “I would, but... Let’s just say I’ve lost my phone and haven’t had time to replace it yet.”
“Well, our session is almost over,” the doctor said, glancing at his Rolex. “We could end it early and you two could catch up now.”
“Oh, that’s not…I don’t…” Ezra’s face flushed pinker, and he glanced up at me, chewing his lip.
Holy hotcakes. No wonder I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He looked so perfect when he blushed, like he was made to do it.
But if he wasn’t sure he wanted to spend the afternoon with me, I wasn’t going to force the issue. “Don’t sweat it if you’re busy, Sugar. We can do lunch another time.”
He sighed. “Actually, I am starving.”
“Then we’ll end our session early,” the doctor said and patted Ezra’s shoulder with a tentacle before turning and walking into the crowd with long strides before Ezra could change his mind.
Ezra watched him go, worrying his bottom lip and wringing his hands.
I smiled and shifted all my bags to one side to take one of his little hands in mine.
He flushed and looked up at me. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you don’t get lost in the crowd.” I patted his hand. “You just hold on to me and stay close.”
Matteo took me to a little café and rum bar down the street from the market called Big Ed’s. I was relieved when we stepped inside, and the place was mostly empty. There were a few people seated at tables, but it seemed like the place was one of those hole in the wall restaurants only the locals knew about.
Once we were seated, Matteo ordered us both sweet teas with lemon, and I frowned, sliding the laminated menu toward me.
“How do you know I even like sweet tea?” I said.
He shrugged. “Don’t you?”
“Yes, but that’s not the point.”
“Always so worried about the point of everything. You ever just chill and take in the world? Might do you some good.” He chuckled and leaned on the table, propping his head up on his elbows. I tried to ignore the intense way he was staring at me, turning my attention to the menu, but the words on the page were a confused jumble, and not just because they were in Spanish.
I lowered the menu and looked straight at him. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about? Please don’t tell me you need more time to pull together a tasting. This wedding is on a tight deadline as it is.”
“Not at all.” He shrugged.
“We’re still on for Saturday, then?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good.” I lifted the menu again, still acutely aware of his eyes on me. “You know, you should take a picture if you’re just going to stare at me.”
“Sorry,” he said, even though he didn’t sound the least bit sorry. “I’m just not sure what else is worth looking at in here. I like watching you.”
I lowered the menu again, trying to put on a stern face even as I felt my cheeks heat. “What is it you want from me, Matteo?”
“Normally, I’d say I’d settle for your phone number so we could spend the next three days flirting via text, but considering you don’t have a phone…” He shrugged and leaned back, throwing one big arm over the back of his chair. The posture put all of his muscular upper body on display, and I couldn’t help but take him in one greedy inch at a time.
I’d never considered myself particularly attracted to minotaurs or monsters of any sort. In fact, I’d only dated humans up to that point. Considering every relationship ended in disaster, maybe it was time to expand my dating pool. I could certainly do a lot worse than the gorgeous bit of man meat sitting across from me. He was intense, but I’d be hard pressed to find someone that attractive interested in me, regardless of species.
It helped that I had a thing for sweet, musclebound hunks with shit for brains. I couldn’t help it. I had the hots for himbos. Unfortunately, most of them were straight, taken, or adrenaline junkies, and my anxiety couldn’t handle the latter. It was strangely refreshing to meet one that was so incredibly relaxed, it was practically contagious.
But I couldn’t let him win me over too easily.
I sat up straighter, pretending to focus on the menu. “What makes you think I’m even remotely interested in flirting with you? Let alone wherever that would lead.”
He shrugged again. “Are you?”
My ears burned, and I lifted the menu so I could hide behind it. I wasn’t used to people being so forward. Some small part of me was panicking, certain that I would say or do the wrong thing. My heart was trying to kick its way out of my chest and sweat formed on the back of my neck.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Matteo since the day before. He’d gotten under my skin and into my head in a way that few people ever did. Maybe it was stress. Of course, one of the best ways to deal with stress was to get fucked so hard I forgot my name, and I was sure Matteo could do that for me.
But that was all it could be. I just wasn’t boyfriend material.
Eventually, I’d say the wrong thing, or I’d forget something important, or he’d find me too high-strung and get annoyed with me. He’d shout at me for harshing his vibe and stressing him out, and that would be that.
An enormous hand gripped the top of my menu and pulled it down. I let out a surprised gasp, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might leave a bruise behind.
Matteo’s brows pinched in concern, but he didn’t let go of my menu. “I’m serious, Ezra. I know I can come on a little strong, but…Well, if you’re not interested, just say so and I’ll back off.”
I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe slower. “I just… this wedding is so stressful. To be honest with you, I’ve been so focused on getting that right that I can’t think about anything else. I just don’t have a lot of room in my head right now.”
He let go of the menu. “Sounds like you need to live outside your head a little more.”
I frowned and lowered the menu to the table. “I don’t even know what that means.”
Matteo considered me, ears flicking slightly. “What do you have planned for the rest of the day?”
“I…” I honestly have no idea.
There was a lot left for me to do. Buying a new cell phone was at the top of that list. I definitely needed to check in with Gary to make sure he got those mauve roses ordered from the florist, and I needed to confirm an appointment with the tailor to triple check measurements, and there were still a few decisions to be made concerning the final menu. Adam Northstar still hadn’t finalized a seating chart, and then there was the DJ. God, if I didn’t nail down a playlist ahead of time—
“Ezra,” Matteo said firmly. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Spiraling. I can see you doing it.” He reached across the table, putting his hands over mine.
I was surprised when my chest stopped feeling so tight, and I didn’t have the urge to pull away. Normally, when my anxiety was so bad, I didn’t want to be touched. For some reason, Matteo’s warm hands were more calming than the expensive therapy I was paying for.
“Focus,” he said, squeezing my hands. “One thing at a time. After this, what’s the next thing you need to do? The most important thing.”
“I need a phone,” I answered immediately. My phone was a crutch, and I knew it, but the reminders helped me feel more organized. Without it, I was a mess.
Matteo nodded. “And then what? Any appointments? Bridezillas you need to wrangle?”
I almost wanted to smile at that. “Fortunately, no. I keep my Thursday afternoons clear for emergencies and errands.” And my sessions with Dr. Federi.
I didn’t tell him that last part, worried that he might think something was wrong with me if he found out I was seeing a shrink. It was bad enough that he’d seen us out together. Hell, Matteo was probably smart enough to put two and two together. What if—
“And what else?” Matteo started massaging my hands, and I bit back a relieved moan. I hadn’t even realized they were sore, but he was easily rubbing all the tension out of them. “Any errands you have to get run today? Dry cleaning to pick up?”
I chewed my bottom lip before answering. “No.”
