Without warning, I suddenly blurted out, “I hope you’ll be satisfied with that. There is no way I’m touching your toes.” I then burst out laughing, a crazy, hyena-type laugh that was half-fake, half assfuck insane.

Mateo blinked a few times, shocked by my apparent descent into Crazyville. With the spell broken, he chuckled and gave me his patented shrug again. “It was worth a shot, yes?”

“Yes,” I agreed, giving him a wan smile. “So.” I cleared my throat and shifted my focus to the field in front of us. “Was that the question?”

“Oh, no,” he said. “My question for the day, my dear Estrella, is about your tattoos. What are they, what do each of them mean?”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I was used to this question. I started with my ankles. I pulled up my leg and rolled up the hem of my jeans. “This was my first tattoo,” I told him. “It’s a tattoo of the moon from the Little Prince. I got it when I was fourteen.”

“So young,” Mateo remarked.

“Yeah,” I said but offered no further comment. I rolled up the other leg and showed him the dots going around the ankle. “This is the constellation Auriga.” Knowing he could barely see it, I looked up at the sky and nodded to the horizon. “It’s right there. That bright star, that’s Capella. It’s part of it.”

“Are all of your tattoos of stars?” he asked, his eyes following my gaze.

“Most of them. I have the solar system on my back. I have Pegasus on my neck, Scorpius on my hip, Gemini on my ribs, Cassiopeia as a tramp stamp.”

“Tramp stamp?”

“Um, it’s what you get when you’re young and stupid.” I pushed at my lower back. “Right here.”

I showed him my newest tattoo on the inside of my right arm. “I got this done before I came here, Sagittarius…with skulls, to mix it up. Then I have the shooting stars on my shoulders and on my chest, plus a quote I like by Oscar Wilde right below it. I have a mermaid and ship on my bicep.” I flexed my arm for him. “And a maple leaf on my ass.” I quickly took a gulp of my beer and let him process that.

He laughed, his brows raised to the heavens. “Really?”

“Yup.”

“Did that hurt?”

“Nah. I have a lot of fat there. The stuff on the back of my neck hurt, ribs too. But my ass was fine.”

“I see. But, must be weird to have your ass in someone’s face, yes?”

I gave him a cheeky grin. “Not really. I have a nice ass.”

He stared at me for a few beats, then smiled and looked away. “As I said before, you are fascinating.”

I started peeling the label off my beer bottle. I knew what that meant—that I had sexual frustration—but I didn’t stop until the label was sticking to my fingers. I rolled it up and then flicked it off onto the grass. “I wish more people found me as fascinating as you do,” I said quietly.

“I am sure they do,” he said thickly. “It would be impossible to not be…enamoured with you.”

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.

“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.