Page 81 of Chasing Hope

I’d love to come!

count me in x

Ihaven’t been able to look at Matteo the same since I found the bracelet in his duffel bag two nights ago. Matteo, on the other hand, has no qualms about pretending nothing happened, as if me finding the bracelet I gave him when I was eight and keeping it for nearly twenty years means nothing.

My bracelet is his lucky charm.

The pain radiating down my legs quickly snaps me away from my thoughts. Perfect timing as well. Matteo stops by his truck, opening the door for me, his sweaty curls somehow still looking attractive despite the amount of perspiration covering him.

If anything, his chest is glistening.

Is it weird I have the desire to lick it?

Yes, Evie, it’s very fucking weird you want to lick the sweat off the man you?—

A groan escapes me as I awkwardly climb into Matteo’s truck. “Just so you know, I’m cursing you for not bringing your sedan.” My head drops down with a muffled groan of pain. “Why is it so hard to get into this goddamn thing?”

Matteo huffs, stepping forward. Before I realize what’s happening, his calloused hands are on my hips, lifting me in the air before gently placing me down in the passenger seat.

Allowing my head to drop against the head rest I feel his eyes on me. Cracking open one of my eyelids, I find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a shit-eating grin on his face. “Bit sore, Dove?” he teases.

I point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you wincing every time you moved your pack.”

He waves me off. “You need to book an eye test, they’re playing tricks on you.” I’m about to snap a retort when Matteo pushes off the frame, leans forward, and taps my nose with his pointer finger. “So adorable when you’re riled up, like a cute little Chihuahua.”

My jaw practically unhinges as he steps back and closes the passenger door. “Oh my fucking god, no he didnot.” He doesn’t say anything as he slides into the truck, starts the engine, and reverses, placing his arm behind my chair. Curse him for being so good looking when I’m trying to be mad at him. I whack his shoulder. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Not particularly,” he says casually, right as a god-awful sound grates both our ears and the truck lurches to a stop. Matteo and I both turn, peering out our respective mirrors. He tries to give it gas again, only for the same sound to appear.

That’s when I spot it.

Dropping my head to the window, I groan. “Fuck.”

“Is the tire stuck?” Matteo asks, all humor and teasing from our hike vanishing with that one question.

“Yep. Back right is stuck in mud.”

Matteo puts the car in park as he opens his door, beckoning me over the console. “Come on, slide over.”

He rounds the truck to the passenger side. Sticking my head out the window, I call out, “And what exactly do youwant me to do? Try and reverse just for the same thing to happen?”

He arches a brow. “Feeling sassy today, I see.”

“We just hiked for eight hours, I have dirt in places dirt shouldn’t be, my feet ache, and all I want is a hot shower but now our tire is stuck. Sue me if I’m a little grouchy.”

Matteo’s lip twitches.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“You’re making that impossible these days.”

“Don’t piss me off, Valenti,” I huff.

A low chuckle escapes him, one that makes me glare at him out the corner of my eye.

Shaking his head, he points to the driver seat. “I’m going to dig us out. Try and put some gas on it while I push.”

“Push where? Into the bush?”