Or, maybe, it was something else.

Stop it, I told myself. Stop thinking that. The fact that he wants to be friends with you after all that means that he just sees you as a friend. After all, he’s—

And that’s when I cut my train of thought off. I wasn’t going to remind myself that he was married anymore. I’d known that from the moment I first laid eyes on him. It was too late to pretend I didn’t know what I was doing. I was in love, in lust, in something with him and all logic, all facts, all reality, none of that seemed to matter, not to my body and not to my heart.

“You look confused,” he said, peering at me. He tilted his hand from side to side. “More or less.”

I managed a smile. I was more or less confused. “I’m fine. I’m happy you’re staying.”

“Are you?” he questioned, not convinced.

“Are you happy you’re staying?”

He took another step my way. A waft of his delicious cologne teased me. “I’m sorry about the other night,” he said, his head dipped slightly. “I was a bit drunk and a bit rude.”

I stared at him. “You weren’t rude.”

He raised his brows, his forehead crinkling. “I have no business telling you how to…conduct yourself.”

What came out of my mouth next surprised me. “Maybe I need to be told.”

He seemed to suck in his breath. Chestnut eyes examined mine, framed by drawn, black brows. He was searching for some sort of truth in my eyes and I hoped he found it. I hadn’t meant to say that, especially so bluntly, but that didn’t make it untrue.

Our gazes locked onto each other as the seconds ticked by in that cold and empty church. What did he want from me? What did he think of me? What did he expect?

“Maybe,” he said slowly. “But it won’t be my place to do so. Only a fool would tell you what to do.”

I couldn’t hide the smile on my face. There was a sense of relief between us, like some of the bad tension had lifted. The good tension though, well, that was still there. It became static in the air every time my eyes raked over him.

Thankfully, before that kind of tension could build into an electric cloud, the main doors opened behind us and two hunched over ladies with grey, flower-adorned hair came padding into the church. They shot Mateo and I a suspicious glance then continued down the aisle.

“Guess we better not interrupt their worship, huh?” I said as we turned to leave, grateful for a way out of this.

We had free time now, about an hour before the football game. Peter had already driven our stuff over to the field and Jerry had yelled some easy directions on how to get there. Everyone else had scattered around the town, except for Claudia and Ricardo, who were waiting for us outside of the church by the statue of the pig with the humungous balls.

“We were wondering if you wanted to get a drink with us before the game,” Claudia said, a satisfied look on her face as she eyed us.

Mateo put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You really trust Vera? We’re all Spaniards. She could put drugs in our drinks and rig the game.”

“Or take advantage of us,” Ricardo put in, winking at me.

“Hey,” I said, acting like it wasn’t a huge detail that Mateo’s hand was on me. “Even if I did drug you, there’s no way the Anglos would win. You’d still have the rest of your team, and one Spanish football player is worth a million Anglo ones.”

They seemed to be happy with that answer. Over the past few weeks I’d learned the quickest way to a Spaniard’s heart is by feeding their football ego.

The four of us walked down the winding streets back to the main square. Along the way we ran into a few people from our program, but everyone seemed spread out, by themselves, or in groups like we were. We found a tapas bar with some outside seating and settled down, Claudia and Ricardo on one side of the metal table, Mateo and I on the other. Well, until Mateo got up to go buy us all drinks.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” I said, taking out my purse and rummaging for my wallet. It was weird needing it after being catered to for so long.

“Vera, shut your face,” Claudia said, leaning across the table and putting her hand on my arm to still me. She smiled. “He has money, let him.”

I looked up at Mateo but he had already started walking to the bar. The only thing that looked “rich” about him at the moment was the cut and fit of his brown blazer, which probably cost hundreds if not thousands of dollars. Otherwise, his vintage rock t-shirt and worn jeans and boots gave him the sexy casual, everyman look. Of course, everyone at the table knew that Mateo wasn’t like the rest of them.

I raised a brow and looked back at Claudia. “Wait, did you just tell me to shut my face?”

She laughed and raised her hands in the air. “You taught me that phrase! I only learn from the best.” She brought out her cigarette and jerked her chin at Ricardo. “Hey, you go help Mateo bring the drinks back.”

He rolled his eyes and got up, knowing when he wasn’t wanted. She lit her cigarette, blowing smoke away from us and then turned back to me with shining eyes. “I’m so glad you made up.”

“I’m not really sure we were fighting…”

“You were fighting,” she said confidently. “A day where you don’t see Mateo and Vera together means you are fighting.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded. “I told you they get very territorial.”

I pursed my lips. “I still don’t know what that has to do with anything.”

“Mateo,” she said knowingly, “is like most Spanish men. They are very passionate, very possessive. When they see you as theirs, they will make that known. Mateo is just better at hiding it than most. Maybe being a sports celebrity has helped with that. But I will tell you this.” She leaned in a bit closer. “When he was playing for Atletico, he was known for his temper. Hot-blooded, he is.”

I grumbled, not sure if I believed all that. Sure, I had seen a glimpse of him all “hot-blooded” when he was angry during our first business phone call together, but that seemed like nothing. Besides, how could you go from having a temper to acting all cool and collected like he usually did? If it was that easy to change your personality and who you are, maybe I would have done that a long time ago.

Before Claudia could elaborate anymore, Mateo and Ricardo came back with the beers and placed the perfectly poured ale on the table. Mateo then tossed down a plastic menu.

“In case you are hungry,” he said.

I picked it up and looked it over. There were English translations beneath the words in Spanish.

“What the hell is a nome-made mam and chess sandwich?” I asked as I read it over.

Claudia started giggling. “Sometimes our translation isn’t the best. Everyone should take the Las Palabras program.”

Mateo pressed a groomed finger to the menu. “Perhaps you should order the chorizo to hell? Or the sepia to the iron with ali smelt.” His eyes slid to my puzzled, somewhat disgusted face, and he grinned. “Flame-grilled chorizo or grilled cuttlefish with garlic mayonnaise. I have no idea what nome-made mam and chess is.”

I stared back at him, enjoying the little moment between us. It was hard for me to imagine him being all passionate and hot-blooded…or was it? When I imagined us in bed together, he wasn’t cool and collected then. He was extraordinarily physical and frenzied with lust. Perhaps I always figured there was a bit of an animal underneath the suit.

He cocked his head to the side and eyed me quizzically. “What are you staring at? Do I have something on my face?”

“Only your nose,” I said before turning away and having a sip of beer.

He rubbed his nose and made an adorably sad face.

Because we just had a bit of time before the game, we were only able to stay at the bar for one beer. But man, I wanted to just keep sitting and drinking, the sweet sunshine spilling over the tops of the red-roofed buildings and bathing us in it. Being with Claudia and Ricardo made it feel like we were on a double date with close friends. I felt like I was dating Mateo. We were just able to sit back and relax and laugh and enjoy each other’s company in a different way than we were used to.