Crushing on the Cowboy by Sarah M. Anderson

Author:Sarah M. Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Paulo was undecided. He did not want half of Mitch, half the time. If he were going to have Mitch, he wanted all of him. After the way Mitch had made that server blush and stutter like a schoolgirl, Paulo wasn’t sure falling asleep in his arms was worth the pain of watching him pretend otherwise.

“This is an apple,” Mitch explained, pointing to a label on the shelf. They were in some grocer—Paulo had not gotten the name of the store. Mitch had decided after breakfast that the best way to spend the day was to walk around naming things.

Paulo gave him a dull look.

Mitch ignored his unhappiness. “Green apples, red apples. There are a bunch of different kinds of apples, but we can get to that later.”

Was there not some American saying about apples? He could not remember.

“Your turn,” Mitch said, giving him a look that was equal parts encouraging and wary.

They had been at this for some time now, slowly moving up and down the aisles with Mitch pronouncing each item carefully, making Paulo pronounce it, and—in some situations—explaining how to make or eat the item.

Like ranch dressing. What the hell was ranch dressing? And why would anyone put it on a salad—or fried potatoes? But Mitch said that everyone did here. And then he promised to take Paulo for American burgers and fries for lunch.

“Well?”

“Apple,” Paulo said, reading the label. The letters were not so hard. But the sounds were different than Portuguese. English was a harsh language.

“Good!” Mitch said, grinning widely. “You’re doing great.”

Paulo notched an eyebrow at him. Aside from Mitch occasionally poking him in the shoulder to get his attention, they had not touched since they had left the lift this morning. This was different than his life back in Brasil. There, if he wanted to hold Joao’s hand, all he had to do was reach over and take it. But here...

“What do you call apples in Portuguese?” Mitch waited for a reply.

Was this really so different from how he had gotten together with Joao? Then, every touch—every look—had been a negotiation of sorts. Could he look? Could he touch? Everything had to be laid out in advance. There had not been surprises because Paulo could not handle them.

Paulo had gotten to the point where he had been convinced that Joao had saved him. He had been sad to leave Joao behind, but he had not missed him as much as he thought he would.

Mitch was a surprise. A surprise with complicated rules and many, many masks. And Paulo simply did not know if he could handle it.

“Maçã,” he said.

The corner of Mitch’s mouth twitched into something that was nearly a smile. “Mak-a,” he repeated.

“Your accent terrible,” Paulo heard himself say. Worse, he felt himself smile as he said it.

He almost had not left Joao. Joao was safe and Paulo had cared for him a great deal. But much like Paulo had to get out of bed and out of the house every single morning—just to prove he could—he had needed to get out of Brasil.

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