Текст книги "The Spanish love deception"

Автор книги: Elena Armas

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

Chapter Twelve

Hours left to board the flight to wedding-doom: twenty-four.

Level of anxiety: reaching emergency status.

Contingency plan: triple-chocolate brownie. A truckload of it.

If yesterday had told me anything, it was that I had been a total idiot, cutting on some of the things that made me feel happy. Or at the very least, a little less bad. I knew that stuffing my mouth with chocolate was a far stretch from sending my so-called diet down the drain. But whatever. I was a woman of extremes.

And that was exactly what had brought me to Madison Avenue. More specifically, to the only place in New York City that held the power to appease the raging beast that was my anxiety right now.

“Do you want your order to go, Lina?” Sally asked from the other side of the counter. “How is Rosie, by the way? Is she not joining you?”

“I wish she were, but I’m flying solo today.”

Last night, I had been on the phone with Rosie for about two hours. Telling her what I was about to embark on hadn’t been easy, and she might have squealed—unnecessarily—and bugged me with more of that stuff about heated looks between Aaron and me she had clearly been imagining, but it was good, having my best friend back on my team. Even if that was Team Deception. Having her waiting in New York when I came back from my trip to wedding-doom with an understanding smile and the pint of ice cream I’d definitely need would mean the world.

“And no, thanks. I’ll have my coffee and brownie here.” I paused, reconsidering that. “Brownies—make it two, please,” I told Sally as I followed her with my gaze from the counter to the espresso machine. “I can indulge. I have the whole day to lounge and relax. I took the day off work.”

She methodically weighed the coffee beans. “Oh, you must have really missed me if you are sticking around for so long,” she commented as she smiled at me over her shoulder. “Not that I’d blame you. Who wouldn’t miss me, right?”

I chuckled. “Of course I missed you. You are my favorite barista in the whole world.” My eyes kept tracking all her movements; I was already salivating.

“Oh. Now, you are saying that only because I have the goods, but keep going, please.”

I was ready to admit that and perhaps ask her to marry me, too, if that meant an endless supply of free coffee for the rest of my life. Then, I saw her gaze move somewhere behind me as she pressed the buttons that made the caffeinated magic happen.

An appreciative gleam appeared in Sally’s eyes.

“Good morning,” she told whoever was behind me. Then, she gave me a mischievous glance before focusing on her new customer again. “Same as always? Double espresso, no sugar?” She paused, and I felt the newcomer right behind me.

I frowned, something sounding very familiar about that order. Black, bitter, and soulless, just like—

“Coming right up, Aaron.”

My spine stiffened as I kept my head straight ahead while my eyes widened.

“Thank you, Sally.”

That voice. It belonged to the man who would be boarding a plane with me tomorrow. The one man who I would be introducing to my family as my dear fake boyfriend.

Turning slowly in his direction, I was welcomed by a pair of ocean-blue eyes, wrapped in a serious expression I knew very well. My mouth opened, but I didn’t get the chance to say anything.

“It’s worse than I thought,” he said, scanning my face as his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Excuse me?” I scoffed, imitating him and gawking at him up and down.

“Your eyes.” He pointed in the direction of my head. “They look huge in your face. Bigger than usual. Are you sure caffeine is a good idea? You seem a little rattled already.”

My huge and bigger than usual eyes narrowed. “Rattled?”

“Yes.” He nodded nonchalantly. “Like you’ll flip any moment now.”

Biting back a couple of bad words, I took a deep breath to stop myself from flipping—like he had said—right there and then. “First of all, I am calm.” That earned me a look that told me he wasn’t buying it. “Yes. Not only calm, but also serene, mind you. Just like one of those ponds where the water doesn’t even move.”

I turned away from him, taking in Sally, who was leaning against the counter, chin resting on the back of her hand, engrossed in my conversation with Aaron. “I’m starting to miss you less and less, Sally,” I quipped and watched her smile widen as she straightened. I sent Aaron a side-glance. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work, Mr. Robot? You know, instead of out and about, pointing out how rattled random women look?”

“You are not a random woman,” he countered calmly, and then he leaned on the counter. Right beside me. “And I was, in the morning. But I have the rest of the day off.”

“A vacation?” I gasped theatrically. “Hell must have frozen over if Aaron Blackford took a day off.”

He never, ever did.

“Half day,” he corrected me.

Sally placed both our orders on the counter. At the same time. Which struck me as odd, given that I had placed mine more than a few minutes before Aaron.

I narrowed my eyes at the woman as she gifted me with an angelic smile. “There you go, guys. Nothing but the best for my favorite customers. Double espresso, no sugar. And a flat white.”

That reminded me of something she had said earlier about Aaron having a usual order.

“How often do you come here, Aaron?” I queried. Not often if I had never stumbled upon him in the past, considering how religiously I visited Around the Corner. “How do you even know this place?”

There were Google Maps, Tripadvisor, Time Out, and a million other sites that could be behind his discovery. And yet …

“Often enough,” he answered, pulling out his wallet from his pocket.

With my eyes still narrowed and tracking how his long fingers fumbled with his wallet, a memory flashed in my mind. I had talked to Aaron about Around the Corner. Or I had been talking to myself about it and Aaron had happened to hear it—whatever. It was the day he had shown up and helped me with the Open Day stuff. My back straightened with the realization.

“What’s so surprising, Catalina? I pay attention when you talk. Even when you mumble to yourself. Which you do very often. But every once in a while, you do say something interesting.”

“Are you a mind reader or something?”

“Thankfully not. I’d be terrified to know what you were thinking most of the time.” He stretched his arm and handed his credit card to Sally. “It’s on me.”

Okay. First of all, terrified? And second of all, I mumbled? Often?

Watching Sally as she took the credit card snapped me out of my stupid shock.

“Wait,” I yelped. That got both Sally’s and Aaron’s attention. “You don’t have to pay for my order. I have my own money.”

“I’m sure you do, but I want to.”

“But what if I don’t want you to?” I argued.

Sally’s gaze jumped from me to the man beside me.

I turned too, finding Aaron’s calm expression.

“And is there any particular reason why you don’t want me to, Catalina? Something tells me, if this were anyone else, you wouldn’t even bat an eyelash at getting a free coffee and brownie.” He eyed the counter. “Brownies.”

“Well, yes. There is a reason, smart-ass.” I took a step toward him. A small one. I lowered my voice. “I owe you enough as it is, and I am not talking just about the fish tacos from yesterday, okay?” Our gazes met. “I don’t need you to put me into further debt.”

If the way his face changed was something to go by, that last part of my statement seemed to really bother him.

“You don’t owe me a single thing,” he said with a scowl. “Me buying you a coffee, tacos, or anything for that matter doesn’t put you in my debt.” His head shook, a few of the usually perfectly-in-place locks of dark hair bouncing and grabbing my attention. The scowl fell off, replaced by a somewhat-distant look. “Will you ever accept anything from me without putting up this big of a fight?”

“That’s …” I trailed off, not knowing what to tell him. “That’s not an easy question to answer, Blackford.”

He tilted his head. “I see.”

Then, he angled his large body toward me, eating a big chunk of the distance that had been separating us. The motion had been unexpected, and my breath hitched with surprise. Hyperaware of how close he had come, I stuttered. Suddenly not knowing what to say or if I was expected to say anything at all.

Aaron’s arm reached out, the backs of his fingers gracing my temple. My lips parted, tingles spreading down my skin.

It was him who lowered his voice then. “Always fighting me.”

I looked up at his handsome and stern face, his assessing blue eyes surveying my reaction.

“Resisting me.”

My heart tripped, making my chest feel like I had just sprinted a mile or two.

Aaron’s head dipped, his mouth coming close to where his fingers had been a few seconds ago. Almost as close as it had been when we danced. “It’s like you want me to beg. Is that something you’d enjoy? Me begging?” His voice sounded so … intimate. Hushed. But it was his next words that scattered my thoughts all over the place. “Is that what this is? You like bringing me to my knees?”

Whoa.

An extremely familiar heat climbed up my neck, spreading to my cheeks. Heating my skin. Then, it rushed back all the way down, making me way too warm in a matter of seconds.

Aaron’s gaze held mine as something dipped in my belly. “Let me treat you, okay? I want to.”

My lips dried and then pressed together as I tried to get ahold of the chaos rushing through my mind and body.

“Okay,” I breathed out, sounding all shaky and wrong. I cleared my throat. Twice. “Pay for my coffee. I’m not interested in you begging or putting on any kind of show in the middle of the coffee shop.” I cleared my throat a third time, my voice still not sounding right. “So, please, pay away.” I paused, trying to get my body back on track. “And thanks.”

Aaron nodded, the start of a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “See? It wasn’t all that hard, was it?” he pointed out. His lips inched further up, looking all smug and—

Oh wait.

Realization dawned. “You were …” I couldn’t believe this. Any of this. My reaction to him. The fact that he had just made me … hot, just for fun and giggles. “You were just making a point.”

His lips twitched. “Maybe I was,” Aaron said, finally stepping out of my personal space and turning away. He looked over at me, that tug of his lips still up. “Are you disappointed, Catalina?”

I can’t believe this.

And what was worse, this only meant that he was aware of the effect he had on me. He knew what his proximity did to my senses. To my body. And he had just used it to win this stupid discussion.

I gaped at his profile as he brought his mug to his lips, looking all pleased.

“You know what, Aaron?” I shrugged my shoulders, fighting the smile that wanted to break across my expression. “I truly am disappointed.”

“You are?” That smug look fell off his face.

“Oh, so much. And you know what I do when that happens?” I turned to Sally. “Sally, I’ll have one of everything you have on display. And I changed my mind. I’ll get everything to go, please.” My lips broke on what I hoped wasn’t an evil grin. “He insists on paying.” I pointed at Aaron with my thumb. “So, please, let him do that before he runs away all your customers with I don’t know what antics about him getting on his knees.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want that,” Sally said with a wink. “You do like our lemon bars. Should I put two instead of one?” she asked as she grabbed one of the biggest containers.

I nodded. “What a lovely idea. I do love them, and why not two blueberry muffins too? They look fantastic from here.”

Aaron remained by my side as he witnessed my little display. “If you think I’m not elated to see you eat, then you don’t understand how serious I was yesterday.”

I ignored the way that made me feel.

“But I still hope you are going to share.”

“I thought you were treating me, not the other way around.” I turned in his direction again, leaning my hip on the counter and placing a hand on my waist.

If I hadn’t known him any better, it would have been easy to overlook the unfiltered amusement shining in his eyes. But it was right there.

And as I peered into that handsome face I had despised—perhaps unfairly, okay, fine—so often in the past, it hit me. I was just as amused, if not a little more. And we did not have only that in common. Both of us were doing an awful job at hiding it too.

But somehow, for the first time in history, neither of us seemed to care. We simply continued looking at each other as we stood there. Gazes locked. Both of us fighting what I knew were petty smiles. Hiding our amusement like a pair of stubborn idiots, waiting for the other to break and grin first.

“All right.” Sally’s voice broke through the spell, making me turn abruptly. She was smiling. Brightly. “Order packed and ready.”

“Okay, thanks,” I muttered. With a little bit of a struggle, I managed to gently hug everything to my chest. “All right, Blackford. Thank you too. Always a pleasure doing business with you.”

“You really are not going to share, are you?”

“Nope.”

We stared at each other for a long moment.

“I …” He trailed off, looking like he was changing his mind about something. My heart raced. “I don’t like running through the terminal. So, try not to be late tomorrow. It’s not—”

“Cute. I know, Blackford. Bye.” Then, I turned on my heels and walked away.

First, he’d persecuted my sweets, and now, this.

One day, I was going to throw something at that ridiculously symmetrical face of his. I truly was, but it was never going to be a brownie.

Chapter Thirteen

Aaron was never late. He wasn’t programmed for that kind of careless behavior.

I knew because I had been trying to be painfully earlier than him to every single appointment our calendars had in common for a little more than one year and eight months. Which could only mean one thing. He wasn’t coming.

He had seen reason and realized how ludicrous our plan was.

My plan, which he had agreed to.

Or was it the other way around? At this point, I didn’t know anymore.

Not that it mattered if he wasn’t coming.

Because that was the only reasonable explanation as to why I found myself in the middle of the Departures terminal, under the huge panel that displayed the status and times of all the outgoing flights, cold sweat running down my back and no one by my side. At least, not the surly blue-eyed man who should have been here right about now.

Gaze roaming around, I let that sink in.

I am on my own.

A wave of sheer panic curled its way down my spine. Something else too.

Something that tasted a lot like betrayal. Which didn’t make sense really. When it came to Aaron, I wasn’t entitled to feel betrayed. Or abandoned. I also didn’t want those emotions wreaking havoc in my head. Or my chest. Not when I was more than able to understand why he would get cold feet.

This whole thing was crazy anyway. Total nonsense. So, why would he go through with the insane plan I had concocted?

My eyes landed on the suitcase and the weekender bag pooled at my feet as I tried really hard to shove away the way I was feeling.

You are fine, I told myself. Ignore that stupid, crushing sensation you have no business feeling and go check in your bags.

The last thing I wanted to do was board that plane alone, but I would do it. I would face my family—and Daniel and his fiancée and the past I had left behind—and the consequences of my lie with my head held high. And I’d do it on my own as much as I had allowed myself in the last forty-eight hours to trust I’d be doing it with someone by my side.

Dios. How had I let this happen? How had Aaron Blackford made himself indispensable in my life?

Bracing my hands on my hips, I remained where I was for what I promised myself would be one last minute. And just to be thorough, I vowed to myself again that I’d be fine.

The pressure building behind my eyes? Nerves. Going home had always filled me with equal parts of joy and remorse. With as much nostalgia as the pain that came with the memories. That was why I didn’t go back all that often.

But that did not matter. I was a big girl. Before Aaron, the plan had always been to do this on my own, so that was what I’d be doing.

With one shaky exhale, I emptied my head and chest from every thought and fleeting emotion, and I let my arms drop from my hips as I reached for my bags.

Ya está bien. Time to go. Hell waits for no—

“Catalina,” a deep voice I’d thought I’d never be glad—not just glad, but also relieved, happy, freaking elated—to hear said behind me.

Closing my eyes, I gave myself a moment to get rid of the swirl of overjoyed and inappropriate emotions I had unsuccessfully tried to push away less than a heartbeat ago.

Aaron is here. He came.

Swallowing hard, I pressed my lips together.

I’m not alone. He is here.

“Catalina?” he called one more time.

Turning very slowly, I couldn’t stop my mouth from finally shaping into what I knew was a wobbly smile. One that probably gave away every single emotion fighting to burst out of me.

Aaron’s frown welcomed me, and I swore I had never been so happy to see that stubborn knot that wrinkled his brows together.

He came, he came, he came.

He tilted his head. “Are you o—”

Before he could finish formulating that question, I landed on his chest with an oomph. Then, I wrapped my arms around him the best I could. “You came.” The words were muffled against the soft fabric of whatever he was wearing. His chest was warm and wide and snuggly, and for a second, I didn’t want to give a damn about how I had plunked myself onto him or how embarrassed I’d be about it later.

Because for better or for worse, I was hugging Aaron.

And he … he wasn’t returning the embrace, but he was letting me. With his arms hanging on his sides, just where they had been when I launched myself at him. His chest wasn’t moving much either. It felt a lot like hugging a marble sculpture, unyielding and hardened under my cheek, only that it pounded with a heartbeat. The latter being the only sign that I had not shocked him into cardiac arrest.

Because besides that, Aaron remained completely still.

Taking one step back very slowly, I gazed up.

Okay, so he looked like a statue too. Perhaps I had broken him with my hug.

That would explain why he was barely blinking as he stared at me for a long moment.

Time in which the last minute started settling in. Desperately, I searched my mind for something to say, anything to excuse my brief and temporary madness that had resulted in me launching my body at his. I came up empty.

He finally broke the silence. “You thought I wasn’t coming.”

A part of me didn’t want to admit it. Even when it was pretty obvious.

Aaron continued, accusation in his voice, “You hugged me because you thought I wasn’t coming.” His gaze was searching. As if he couldn’t believe or understand what had just happened. “You’ve never hugged me before.”

I stepped further back, fumbling with my hands and feeling a little overwhelmed by the way he was looking at me. “I don’t think it computes as a hug when one of the parties remains like a wooden stick, Captain Not So Obvious.” I decided right then that in my head, it hadn’t been a hug. “Plus, you were late, and you never are, so what did you expect me to think?”

As I backed away some more, putting the right amount of space between our bodies, my gaze finally managed to take him in completely. From head to toe. And … yeah, from toe to head too. Because the soft fabric that had been pressed beneath my cheek a moment ago was a plain white cotton T-shirt. And the legs that had remained unmovable under my hug attack were clad in faded jeans. And the—

Are those tennis shoes on his feet?

Yes, they totally were.

I had no idea what I had expected him to wear, but it surely wasn’t that. I hadn’t been prepared for the image of Aaron standing in front of me in something that wasn’t the long-sleeved button-down shirt tucked in his dress pants that I knew him in.

Aaron looked relaxed. Normal. Not like the aloof stainless steel–working machine I was around at work. The one that screamed at you to keep your distance.

No. Ironically, what I wanted was to press my cheek against his chest again. Which was absolutely ridiculous. And dangerous too. This new version of Aaron was just as dangerous as the one that smiled and laughed. Because I liked it. A little too much for the well-being of our plan. Or mine.

“Catalina,” Aaron called, forcing my gaze to return to his face.

Cheeks heating, I pretended I hadn’t been ogling him. And appreciating what I ogled.

“Yes?”

“I asked if you were done with that?”

Mierda. “Done with what exactly?” I scratched the side of my neck, trying to conceal my embarrassment.

“Panicking. About me not coming. Are you finally done with that? Because I am here now, just how I said I would be. And I wasn’t late. You just happened to be shockingly early.” He tilted his head slightly and then added, “For once.”

Eyes narrowed, I checked the time on my phone. “Fine, you might be right.” I returned my gaze to his. “For once.”

The right corner of his lips tipped up. “Good. So, now that we have established that,” he started, and I did not like one single bit how smug he looked all of a sudden, “do you think you are done looking at me like I have grown a second head too? Because I’d like to get going.”

Busted. “Yep,” I squared my shoulders. “Done with that too.” I reached for the handle of my carry-on suitcase. “I just didn’t know you owned normal clothes.”

Aaron cocked a brow.

My treacherous eyes swept him head to toe again. Dammit, he looked really, really good, all cozy and comfy.

I shook my head. “Come on, Mr. Robot. We have bags to check in,” I told him, forcing my eyes away. “Now that you are here and all.”

Reaching for the weekender bag—which was filled to the brim—I lifted it off the floor, hung it off my shoulder, and tried to walk with as much grace as I could while probably looking a little bit like an overloaded Sherpa.

In one long stride, Aaron caught up with me. I watched his eyebrow rise as he gave me a sideways glance. “How long are you planning on staying in Spain?” He eyed my two pieces of bigger than strictly necessary luggage. “I thought we’d be flying back on Monday.”

“And we are.”

Eyes wide, Aaron made a show out of looking me and my luggage up and down. “That’s how you pack for three days?”

I quickened my pace while I tried really hard not to assplant on the terminal’s polished floor under the weight of the bag on my shoulder. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

Instead of answering, his hand on my arm stopped my course. Without giving me a chance to complain, he delicately snagged my bag and placed it on his shoulder.

The physical relief was so immediate that I had to stop myself from moaning in response.

“Jesus, Catalina,” he huffed, looking back at me, horrified. “What are you carrying in here? A dead body?”

“Hey, this is not a regular weekend visit to the fam, okay? Stop luggage-shaming me,” I said to the scowling man walking beside me. “I had to fit loads of stuff. Makeup, accessories, hair dryer, hair straightener, my good conditioner, lotion, all the dresses I’m taking, six pairs of shoes—”

“Six pairs of shoes?” Aaron croaked, scowling even harder.

“Yes,” I answered quickly, my gaze hunting for the right check-in counter. “One for each of the three different outfits I need, plus the pertinent three backups.” I paused, thinking of something. “Please tell me you packed at least one backup.”

Aaron rearranged my bag on his shoulder, shaking his head at the same time. “No, I didn’t. But I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand …” Another shake of his head. “You are—”

“Brilliant?” I finished for him. “Astute? Gifted in the art of packing? I know. And I hope you have enough clothes in that tiny suitcase you are carrying.”

“Ridiculous,” he murmured. “You are a ridiculous woman.”

“We’ll see who’s the ridiculous one when something accidentally happens to your shirt, tie, or suit, and you have to wear one of my dresses to the wedding.”

A grunt reached my ears. “Six pairs of shoes,” the scowling man in casual wear muttered. “Ridiculous woman packing her own weight in clothes.” He went on, almost too low for me to make out.

“If it’s too heavy for you, you can give it back. I was doing fine myself.”

His head shot in my direction, giving me a look that told me that wasn’t an option.

Sighing, I accepted the help. “Thank you, Blackford. That’s very kind of you.”

“And you were not doing fine,” he countered back, making me want to take back my thank-you. “You could have hurt yourself.”

Aaron veered for the left, and I finally tracked down the counters matching the airline we were flying with.

I followed him. “I appreciate the concern, Big A. But I’ve got my own set of muscles.”

He brushed over my use of his nickname. “Of course. You have to be stubborn on top of ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath.

I had to hide my smile. “Said the kettle to the pot.”

With a last sideways glance, Aaron sped out, letting his long legs carry him away with his small and reasonable suitcase and my ridiculously brimming bag off his shoulder.

From my position a couple of steps behind him, I had no choice but to let my gaze travel down his backside. A not-too-small and certainly not-very-quiet part of me was a little in awe by how his jeans hugged those muscled thighs, which had once propelled him across a football field. That same part got a little louder when my eyes trailed up, catching how his biceps, which I knew had carried a brown melonlike leather ball across that very same field, were bunched as his arm held the weight of my bag.

Ugh. It was terribly disturbing how distracting Aaron’s backside was now that I knew more of him. Now that I knew all these tiny little pieces of his life.

The ones I had found out about the night of the fundraiser, sure. But also those I had dug up when I Googled him.

Yes, I had fallen prey to my curiosity. But just once. I had allowed myself to do that one single time.

And that level of self-restraint hadn’t been easy to accomplish. At least not considering how everything out of my little Google rendezvous had been stuck in the back of my head ever since I indulged. Demanding to be acknowledged more often than I was ready to admit.

My mind seemed eager on not letting go of the pictures of a younger version of Aaron—just as stoic, his shoulders as wide, and his jaw just as hard—dressed in a purple-and-golden uniform that made my heart rate grow a little quicker, only thinking about it. Or the headlines proclaiming that he had been a known name back in that day. But what I’d had more trouble forgetting were the articles—and there had been more than a couple dozen—praising his performance and foreshadowing the player he would become. But hadn’t.

So, why hadn’t he? Why did the press coverage of his football career go for a few years and then stop altogether?

That was something I hadn’t managed to find.

And it only fueled my itch to know more. To learn more about this man I had thought I had all pieced together but that I was learning I couldn’t have been any more wrong about.

As if on cue, Aaron looked back at me. His brows rose on his forehead. “Is something wrong?”

Caught a little off guard, I just shook my head.

“Then, come on. At this pace, we will never make it to Spain.”

“If only I were so lucky,” I mumbled. But then I shot forward, walking until catching up with him.

Once again, Aaron was right.

There were more pressing concerns to occupy my mind with.

Like the plane we would be boarding in less than a handful of hours.

Or the fact that once we did, there was no turning back.

Because we were doing this. We were really doing it, and we had to ace it.

By the time we landed in Spain, my family needed to believe that Aaron and I were happily—hearts bursting, birds chirping, and flowers blooming—in love. Or at the very least, that we could stand each other for more than ten minutes without causing an international war to erupt.

And as much as I had no clue how we would ever manage to do that, I was sure of something. We, Aaron and I, would figure it out.

We had to.