Come What May: A Standalone Age Gap Romance

by LK Farlow

  The following morning, I decide taking both Azalea and Magnolia’s advice couldn’t hurt. Really, it’s a win-win: a kickass outfit to serve as armor and piping hot coffee as a peace offering.

  I dress in ripped jeans and a slouchy, cream-colored sweater that hangs off of my left shoulder in a way that’s as sexy as it is sweet. I can’t resist playing up the sexy just a little though, and layer a mauve lace bralette underneath.

  I’m out the door by eight-fifteen, giving myself plenty of time to swing by Dream Beans for coffee. Hopefully Hazel’s working—God love her, the girl remembers everyone’s orders, which will make my caffeinated bribe a sure thing.

  The drive from my house to the coffee shop passes in a blur of nerves. “I am a badass. I am worthy. I am loved,” I repeat my little D-I-Y mantra the entire drive until my anxiety settles back down to a dull roar in the recess of my mind.

  “Good morning, Seraphine,” my favorite barista calls out as soon as I walk through the door. Between that and scoring curbside parking, maybe for what feels like the first time ever, luck is on my side. “You want your usual?”

  “Yes, please,” I say as I step up to the stunning reclaimed wood counter. “And whatever Mateo Reyes usually orders as well.”

  “Hmm.” Hazel’s eyebrows inch toward her hairline in surprise. “You got it.”

  She tells me my total and swipes my card before sending me to the end of the counter to wait. Three minutes later, I’m out the door with a beverage in each hand.

  I crank my RAV4’s radio to max volume for the ride to the shop and sing every song that plays at the top of my lungs. I hit two red lights on the way and add some pretty sweet dance moves at both of them.

  I’m sure I look like a fool, but I’ve found that doing my own version of Carpool Karaoke is really soothing when I feel myself spiraling toward a meltdown. I know I should probably talk to an actual therapist instead of spending my free time Googling coping techniques, but so far, they’re working.

  As the shop comes into view, I have to blink to make sure I’m not seeing things. The once dingy, faded gray building is now an eye-catching combination of charcoal with red accents.

  I park the car and spring out, excited to get a better look.

  “You like it?” Mateo asks from behind me.

  “Where did you come from?” I ask, whirling around to face him, my heart racing a mile a minute at his unexpected appearance.

  His brown eyes light with a smile that could rival the sun. “I was sitting in my truck when you drove up.” He moves to my side and nods toward the building. “You like?”

  I glance up at him. “It’s amazing.”

  “There’s more.” His fingers brush mine, as if he’s going to take my hand, but he slides his hands in his pockets instead. “C’mon.”

  There’s a large something covered by a tarp leaning against the side of the building. “You ready for this?”

  “For what?”

  “This!” he exclaims, pulling the tarp away.

  I can hardly believe what I’m looking at. Tears well up and fall freely as I step forward to get a closer look. “Mateo.” My voice wavers as a gamut of emotions slam into me. “You… you did this?”

  “Sí.”

  I run my fingers over the large, round sign. It sports a 1970s GTO over the words Dave’s Garage. It’s everything my dad would have wanted and more.

  Still in a state of disbelief, I turn toward him and ask, “You did this for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh my God!” I throw myself into his arms with enough force that he stumbles backward a bit.

  “Whoa, mariposita.” He reluctantly returns my embrace. “You’re happy? You like it?”

  “I love it.” My words come out muffled since my face is pressed firmly to his chest.

  “Qué bueno,” he murmurs roughly into my hair.

  In this moment, I don’t care that I don’t know what he said, or that I’m still mad at him. All of that takes a back seat as I sink into him and let the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heart soothe all of my hurts.

  It physically pains me to pull away from him, but I do. “Thank you, Mateo. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  “There’s one more thing.”

  “What?” I practically shout my question, because after the new look of the shop and the new sign, I can’t wait to see what’s next.

  “Inside; let’s go.”

  He fishes his keys from his pocket and slides the key into the lock, turns it, and opens the door. I go to move past him, but he lays a hand on my shoulder, halting my progress.

  From behind me, he whispers, “Close your eyes.”

  He’s so close to me I can smell his mind-altering scent. He’s as mouthwatering as ever, but somehow, here in the dark, he’s more tempting than ever.

  “Why?” I whisper back, my heart thundering in my ears.

  He leans in closer, dipping his head low enough that his lips brush the shell of my ear. “It’s a surprise, mariposita.”

  “Okay, they’re closed.”

  “Are they?” He reaches his left hand around and presses it palm down over my eyes. My pulse jumps in response to his touch. “Good. On my count. One… two… three.” I feel him lean over to flip the light switch. “Now!”

  I open my eyes and take in a massive red decal that matches the signage he ordered, along with the words “it’s what you do while you’re alive that matters” on the wall we painted white.

  “This is too much.” I try to wipe away my tears, but it is a fruitless effort, as more keep falling. “You buying the place was a godsend, but the care you’re taking, the way you’re truly including me and honoring my dad—Mateo, I… don’t know what to say.”

  “Shh.” He once again wraps me in his strong arms. “You don’t need to say anything.”

  I shake my head, undoubtedly covering his shirt with my tears and snot; I am not a pretty crier. “I do, though. Honestly, there’s no way I can ever repay you. You’ve… you’re a good man, Mateo Reyes.”

  He releases me and steps away, shooting me a cocky grin. “The best,” he challenges, all cocky-like, lightening the mood.

  “Yeah, the best.”

  He pretends to dust his shoulder off. “I do what I can.”

  I don’t know why, but it feels like his words have a double meaning. It’s probably my emotionally overwhelmed brain reading too far into things, but it feels like more.

  All of this does.

  Helping me, buying the shop, the name and décor—it’s too much. Far more than an acquaintance would do. More than a friend would do, even. These things, they have an intimate quality to them; one that didn’t hit me until now.

  Suddenly, I find myself examining every interaction we’ve had in a new light.

  Did he ride in like a noble knight and rescue me at the fair because of his friendship with my dad, or was there something more at play?

  I didn’t think anything of it when I woke up in his bed—not really. But now…

  My mind races faster than a Mustang at the drag strip.

  His nickname, his kindness, our kiss.

  Holy shit. I thought it was only a physical thing, but he actually does have feelings for me!

  “What’s got you looking like your brain is melting?”

  I swallow roughly. Go figure, the first guy to be interested in me for more than claiming my V-card has me so firmly in the friend zone, I may as well be a dude.

  “Just a little stunned,” I answer honestly.

  Mateo nods like he understands. But how could he, when we’re talking about two different things. He thinks I’m referring to the shop, when really, I’m overwhelmed by him.

  I want so badly to tell him how I feel—to confess that I want him, too. But he made it clear after our kiss that he had no interest in exploring anything further between us.

  And I have to be okay with that. I’ll show him day in and day out how much I appreciate all he
’s done for me. I’ll be the best damn friend and employee possible… even if I break my own heart in the process.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mateo

  “Are you excited?” Desi asks me as she shovels cereal into her mouth.

  Absentmindedly, I nod. It’s our grand opening—for the mechanical side of things—and I’m still no closer to asking Seraphine to dinner tonight than I was when Mamá decreed it.

  There’s not really a suave way to tell a woman you’re interested in but won’t date that your mother is demanding to meet her.

  The three stooges—Arrón, Silvi, and my traitor of a daughter—are absolutely no help either. Honestly, I think they like watching me squirm.

  Desi sighs loudly, causing me to look her way. “Dad, are you listening?”

  “Yes.” Mostly, I think to myself.

  “Then what did I just say?”

  “You asked if I was excited.”

  She rolls her eyes. “No, after that.”

  Guilt prickles at me. “I’m sorry, pollito. I am lost in my mind. Say it again.”

  “It’s okay, old man. I know your brain isn’t as sharp as it once was—you know, because of your advanced age.” She pauses for dramatic effect, her deep brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “I didn’t actually say anything.”

  I groan, and she bursts out laughing.

  “You think you’re funny?”

  “Uh, yeah. Silvi bet me twenty bucks you wouldn’t fall for it, and now I’m that much richer.”

  “I can’t believe you!” I mime plunging a knife into my heart and slump down onto the table before popping back up. “Get out of here or you’ll be late for school.”

  She stands and moves to the sink to rinse her bowl. “Love you, Dad.”

  “Love you, too, Des. Don’t forget about dinner tonight.”

  She smirks. “Oh, I won’t.”

  I don’t have anyone scheduled at the shop for two more hours, but I decide to head on over. It’s not like I’ll do anything here other than obsess over dinner.

  Unfortunately, it seems location doesn’t affect my fixation; I’ve spent every second brainstorming ways to ask Seraphine to dinner.

  As if my thoughts alone summoned her, Seraphine waltzes through the door twenty minutes early. “Good morning,” she says, all sunshine and smiles as she approaches me.

  She’s dressed in a black logo-tee that’s knotted at the waist and a pair of skin-tight jeans that hug her lush curves. The combination is low-key and hot as hell all at once. So hot, I hardly notice the still-steaming cup of coffee she’s holding out to me.

  “For me?” I ask when she clears her throat.

  “Yup. Drink up while it’s hot.”

  I accept the to-go cup, deliberately making sure our fingers brush. It feels like I’m back in high school with no game. “This is twice you’ve brought me coffee. Don’t go spoiling me.”

  She grins and takes a big sip of her drink. “It’s nothing.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You are very thoughtful.” My eyes drop to her lips as she licks away a dab of whipped cream with a happy little moan.

  “What can I do to help?” she asks, blessedly changing the subject, because I was two seconds away from taking her in my arms and tasting her drink straight from her lips.

  “Nada—nothing.”

  “Are you sure?” Her wide eyes and pouty lips detour my thoughts back into dangerous territory. “There’s not anything at all?”

  Everything about her screams fuck me—and the worst part, I don’t think she even knows it. She’s an effortless blend of innocence and sin. Her dick-stirring sex appeal comes to her as naturally as breathing; it isn’t something she thinks about—it just is.

  I quickly call to mind the most unsexy thing I can think of—cutting my abuelita’s toenails when she was sick—before answering her. “We have a few appointments on the books, and I have a few interviews, too. But for the most part, we’re ready to go.”

  Her earlier grin returns, and since I’m apparently a schoolgirl and not a grown-ass man, I get actual butterflies at the sight of it.

  “Let’s do this then!”

  As she says this, Rodger and Danton—the two mechanics I hired last week—walk in.

  “Morning, boys,” Seraphine says with a finger wave.

  Rodger grunts as he heads straight for the coffeepot. He’s older than me by about twelve years and has been in the car industry for three decades. He’s a little on the grumpy side, but his knowledge is priceless.

  Danton, on the other hand, is only a little older than Seraphine and as green as a sapling. His eagerness more than makes up for it, though.

  “Good morning, Seraphine.” He practically purrs her name, and I see red; turns out his eagerness may actually get him killed.

  An involuntary snarl rips from my chest, and Danton rushes to acknowledge me as well, as though his lack of a greeting was the issue. “Mateo! Glad to be here, man.”

  “I’ll bet you are,” I mutter, earning me a backhanded smack to the gut from Seraphine.

  “Be nice,” she scolds.

  “I’m always nice.”

  “Be nicer, then.”

  “If you two are done,” Rodger grouses, paper coffee cup in hand. “Maybe we can get to work?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Seraphine

  The door chimes and I greet the newcomer without looking up from the computer screen. “Welcome to Dave’s. I’ll be right with you.”

  “It’s you.”

  I lift my eyes from the screen in time to see a tall, fit guy around my age eyeing me. There’s something familiar about him, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

  “Um…” is all I can say, because while he seems to know me, I think I know him, my brain is struggling to connect the dots.

  “You don’t remember me?” He gives me puppy dog eyes.

  I shimmy my shoulders in a shrug. “You’re familiar, but I can’t seem to place you.”

  “That’s okay.” He grins and I shudder. Something about him makes me feel on edge. “I’m happy to remind you. I’m Cliff.”

  It’s obvious he’s waiting for some kind of response; only, I’m not sure what. He clearly knows me, so it’s not my name he’s waiting for.

  “Well, it’s um, nice to see you again. How can I help you today?”

  His eyes light and my stomach drops. “I can think of fifty different ways, but let’s start with my truck, sugar.”

  I blanch at the unwanted nickname. Who does this guy think he is? “What about it?”

  “I got a new one, it needs a lift kit, wheels, tires, brush guard, the works.”

  “Oh.” I nod my head. “We’re only doing maintenance for the time being. I’m not sure when the custom side of things is set to open, but I can take your name and number?”

  “Come on, sugar. Put me on the books.”

  “We’re not accepting anyone for resto or customizations yet.”

  He plants his hands onto the desk and leans into my space. “Then let me take you to make up for it.”

  I discreetly look around the shop for Mateo or one of the guys, but there’s no one. “Oh, um, I don’t think…”

  He reaches out, as if to touch me, and I take a small step back.

  “Say yes, sugar. I promise we’ll have a good time. And hey, you like cars… I’ll let you look under my hood if you let me under yours.”

  Wow, that’s forward. And gross. “I think I’m busy.”

  His eyes narrow. “I haven’t said when.”

  Crap! I try to backpedal; he seems like the kind of guy you don’t want to cross. “I just meant with the shop opening, long hours, you know… busy with work and stuff.”

  “Come on, now. You can’t be all work and no play.” He pulls his phone from his pocket. “Let me take you to dinner tonight. You gotta eat, right?”

  I shift uncomfortably on my feet. Why can’t this guy take a hint?

  “Tonight?” I suck in a
breath through my teeth. “Tonight—”

  “Tonight won’t work,” Mateo says, startling me. I have no clue where he came from but I am so freaking glad he’s here.

  Cliff’s entire face hardens as he glares at Mateo with the kind of anger reserved for mortal enemies. “And why’s that?”

  Mateo wraps an arm around my waist and draws me into him. “Because we have dinner with my family tonight, don’t we mariposita?”

  I quickly nod my head, all too eager to play along.

  “Then another night.”

  “No.” Mateo releases me and moves me slightly behind him. “No other night. Not today, not ever. Unlike you and your friends, I know something of value when I see it and I don’t share. Now, get out of here before I call the cops on you for harassing my girlfriend.”

  Butterflies, moths, birds, an entire menagerie of winged creatures all take flight and rip through me at his use of the G-word. I know it’s only a part of his ruse, but my God, it feels good to hear.

  “Thought she was a close family friend?”

  “Guess we grew closer,” Mateo deadpans.

  Cliff clucks his tongue as he turns toward the door. “You’re not worth the fight anyway.”

  “¿Qué, pendejo?” Mateo says, his voice a lethal mixture of disbelief and fury. “What was that?”

  The unwanted patron turns back toward us, his feet rooted where he stands, as his lips tip up into a grotesque smile. “I said your girlfriend” —he makes sure to emphasize the word— “isn’t worth the fight. I can get ass without the baggage. Ain’t no pus—”

  It’s like a thread snaps and Mateo lunges over the counter, grabbing a fistful of Cliff’s shirt and hauling him close. “You will not speak of her like that. Like she’s a piece of meat. That woman is a fucking queen, and you’re worth less than the gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe. She is everything and you are nothing. Nothing.”

  “Look, I didn’t mean any harm, man.” Cliff’s suntanned skin looks as white as a sheet as he tries to pry Mateo’s hand off of him. “Just let me go, and I’ll get outta here.”