Текст книги "The Spanish love deception"

Автор книги: Elena Armas

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

Making an effort to calm myself, I released a shaky breath.

Rosie nodded, looking at me with the understanding only a good friend would. But there was something else there too. And I was under the impression I wouldn’t like whatever she had to say next.

“I get it. I do, I swear.” She smiled.

Okay, that was good. I needed her to be on my side. And I knew she was.

I watched her walk around the table and take a seat beside me. Then, she turned and faced me.

Uh-oh. This wasn’t all that good anymore.

Rosie placed a hand on my back and continued, “I hate to remind you of this, but you didn’t even want to be on the GreenSolar project. Remember how much you complained about that client?”

Of course I’d had to go and find a best friend who had a borderline photographic memory. Of course she remembered that I had been glad to be relocated to a different project.

“And,” she continued, “as you very well said, Aaron didn’t know you.”

Exactly. He hadn’t bothered to do that before he decided to label me as a hindrance and talk shit about me to our boss.

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “What’s your point, Rosalyn?”

“My point is that, sure, he judged you based on only a couple of days,” she patted my back. “But you can come across a little … informal. Relaxed. Spontaneous. Sometimes loud.”

My scoff was heard all the way in Spain. “Excuse me?” I gasped loudly. Dammit.

“I love you, sweetie.” My friend smiled warmly. “But it’s true.” I opened my mouth, but she didn’t give me the chance to speak. “You are one of the hardest workers here, and you are amazing at your job while you manage to create a light and fun working atmosphere. That’s why you are a team leader.”

“Okay, I like this direction far better,” I muttered. “Keep going.”

“But Aaron didn’t have a way of knowing that.”

My eyes widened. “Are you defending him? Shall I remind you that we—as friends—should hate each other’s enemies and nemeses? Do you need me to print a copy of the best-friend code for you?”

“Lina”—her head swiveled, looking frustrated—“be serious for a minute.”

I sobered up immediately, deflating in my chair. “Okay, fine. Sorry. Go ahead.”

“I just think you were hurt—understandably so—and that bothered you enough to write him off this long.”

Yes, I had been outraged and hurt too. Something I despised was people making judgments based on shallow impressions. And that was exactly what Aaron had done. Especially after I had gone out of my way and tried to welcome him in the division with the best and warmest intention. I couldn’t believe I had shown up in his office with a stupid welcome gift—a mug with a funny quote about being an engineer. To this day, I didn’t know what had come over me. I hadn’t done that for anyone else. And what had Aaron done? He had just looked at it in horror and gaped at me like I had grown a second head as I cracked jokes like a total awkward dumbass.

So, to overhear him say that kind of stuff about me not more than two days after that … it had just made me feel small and all the more pathetic. Like I was being shoved aside after not measuring up to the real adults.

“I’m going to take your silence as confirmation of what I said,” Rosie told me, squeezing my shoulder. “You were hurt, and that’s okay, sweetie. But is it reason enough to hate him forever?”

I wanted to say yes, but at this point, I didn’t even know anymore. So, I resorted to something else. “It’s not like he has been trying to be my friend or anything. He has been a constant pain in my ass all this time.”

Except for that life-saving homemade granola bar, fine. And those papers he’d printed out for me when he didn’t have to, sure. And maybe for the fact that he’d stayed late, working with me on Open Day last Wednesday.

Fine, okay, except for those three occasions, he had been a constant pain in my ass.

“You have been too,” she countered. “You two are equally bad. Actually, it’s even cute how you two have been looking for excuses to trip each other and—”

“Oh, hell no,” I cut her off, turning in my seat to fully face her. “Let me stop you right there before you launch yourself into this weird shit about looks and whatnot.”

My friend had the nerve to cackle.

I gaped at her. “I don’t know you anymore.”

She recovered, pinning me with a look. “You are oblivious, sweetie.”

“Am not. And you seem to need a reminder, so here’s how things are.” I pointed in the air with my index finger. “Since I overheard him saying those ugly and prejudiced things about me, to our boss no less, his name has been on my black list. And you know how seriously I take that. That shit is carved on stone.” I punched my palm with my other hand to be clear. “Have I forgiven Zayn Malik?”

Rosie shook her head, snickering. “Oh, Lord knows you haven’t.”

“Exactly. In the same way that I haven’t forgotten what David Benioff and D.B. Weiss did to us on May 19, 2019.” I waved my index finger between us. “Didn’t Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name deserve better than that?” I paused, just to let it seep in. “Didn’t we, Rosie?”

“Okay, I’m going to take your side on that one,” she admitted. “But—”

“No buts,” I stopped her, holding a hand in the air. “Aaron Blackford is on my black list, and he will stay there. Full stop.”

I watched my friend take in my words, mulling over what I had just said. Or more like passionately stated—whatever.

Rosie deflated with a sigh. “I just want what’s best for you.” She gave me one of those sad smiles that made me think she might be disappointed in me.

“I know.” Like the hugger I was, I launched myself at her, wrapping my arms around her and giving her a good squeeze. Frankly, it probably wasn’t her who needed it the most. This whole thing was draining the life out of me. “But that’s not Aaron Blackford.” Squeezing once more, I let myself enjoy the embrace, my eyelids falling shut for a second or two.

Much to my dismay, when my eyes opened back up, they tracked a large and towering figure that could only be one man.

“Dammit, Rosie,” I whispered with my arms still around her, making eye contact with the approaching man. “We have summoned him again.”

I watched Aaron Blackford close the distance with quick strides. His long legs stopped right in front of us. We were still hugging, so I peered at him over Rosie’s shoulder.

Aaron took our embrace in, looking somewhere between appalled and engrossed. I couldn’t be sure because he did a good job at hiding whatever he was thinking behind that infamous frown.

“What? Who have we summoned?” I heard Rosie say as we disentangled our arms from each other under Aaron’s attentive gaze. “Oh. Him,” my friend whispered back.

Aaron had definitely heard that, but he didn’t react. He limited himself to standing in front of us.

“Hello, Blackford.” I forced a tight-lipped smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Catalina,” he answered. “Rosie.” He looked at his watch and then back at us—or more, me—with one of his eyebrows up. “Still on lunch break, I see.”

“Break police have arrived,” I muttered under my breath. His other brow joined the one that was almost touching his hairline. “If you are here to impart any of your lessons on how to become a working robot, I don’t have the time.”

“Okay,” he replied simply. Then, he turned toward my friend. “But it’s Rosie who I have a message for.”

Oh.

I frowned, feeling something tug in my stomach.

“Oh?” my friend echoed.

“Héctor is looking for you, Rosie. Something about a project falling through because someone he called Hand-Breaker had a fit,” he explained. “I’ve never seen Héctor so worked up.”

My friend sprang up. “Oliver ‘Hand-Breaker’? It’s one of our clients. He … he shakes hands so hard, you can literally feel your bones grinding together.” She shook her head. “That’s not important now. Oh crap.” She picked up the few things she had—the corporate badge, office keys, and wallet. “Oh no, no, no.” A panicky look took over her face. “That means the conference call is over. I had meant to be downstairs by now, but with this whole mess with Lina and—”

I pinched her arm, stopping her before she said too much.

Aaron perked up—if his eyes narrowing slightly could count as perking up.

Rosie continued, “About Lina’s cat—”

Another pinch. I didn’t have a cat, and she knew this.

“Neighbor’s cat?” Rosie looked everywhere but at Aaron or me, her cheeks turning pink. “Her neighbor Bryan, yeah. Yes, that’s it. Bryan’s cat. Mr. … Cat.” She shook her head.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed further and then jumped to me. He searched my face as my friend stuttered through her obvious lie.

“Lina is taking care of Mr. Cat this week because Bryan’s grandma is sick and he’s out of town. You know how much Lina loves to help.”

I nodded my head slowly, as if Rosie’s gibberish had made any sense.

“Aren’t you allergic to cats?” Aaron asked, shocking the hell out of me.

“I am.” I blinked. “How do you …” I cleared my throat. I don’t care. I shook my head. “It’s a hairless cat.”

His hands slipped in his pants pockets, taking a moment to assess that. “A hairless cat.”

“Like in Friends,” I said, trying to sound as casual as I could. “Rachel’s cat. A Sphynx.” I watched Aaron’s face, not a sign showing that he knew what I was talking about. “You live in New York, and you are American, yet you haven’t watched Friends?” Nothing there. “Ever? Oh, never mind.”

Aaron stayed silent, and I pretended he hadn’t caught us in a blatant lie.

“Okay, phew,” my friend said, gifting us with a wide and toothy grin. The fake one. “I really need to go talk to Héctor.”

She looked at me apologetically. I stood up, too, scared of being left behind to explain more about Mr. Cat.

“Thank you, Aaron, for coming to get me. That was very”—she glanced at me quickly—“very kind of you.”

I rolled my eyes.

Rosie elbowed me softly. “Wasn’t it, Lina?”

She probably thought she was being clever. She wasn’t.

“The kindest,” I said with a clipped tone.

“Right. I’ll talk to you later.” Rosie rushed toward the staircase, leaving us behind.

An awkward silence surrounded Aaron and me.

He cleared his throat. “Catalina—”

“What’s that, Rosie?” I cut him off, pretending my friend was calling for me. Coward, I thought. But after everything that had gone down today and having to relive our rocky start during my conversation with Rosie, the last thing I wanted to do was talk to Aaron. “Oh, you are holding the elevator door for me, you say?” I shot after my friend, not paying attention to how Aaron’s lips had pressed in a flat line as I left him behind. “I’ll be right there!” Then, I turned one last time, quickly glancing over my shoulder. “Sorry, Blackford, I gotta go. You can send me an email maybe? Yes? Okay, bye.”

When I turned my back to him, Rosie came into view. She was repeatedly pressing on the call button for the elevator.

“Rosalyn Graham!” I called after her, willing my head not to turn and check on the pair of blue eyes I was sure was drilling holes in my back.

Chapter Five

You knew the universe didn’t like you all that much when, after an exhausting week that had been crowned with a catastrophic Friday, it started pouring down the minute you stepped out of the office.

“Me cago en la leche,” I cursed under my breath, looking out through the glass of InTech’s massive entrance door and taking in the dark clouds crowding the sky, rain falling from it almost violently.

Pulling up my phone, I checked the Weather app and discovered that the summer storm would probably hover over Manhattan for a couple more hours.

Perfect, just perfect.

It was already past eight in the evening, so staying in the office to wait out the rain wasn’t an option. I needed my bed. No, what I really needed was a can of Pringles and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. But that wasn’t a rendezvous I would be having today. Instead, I’d probably trick my stomach with whatever leftover veggies I had in the fridge.

A thunder rumbled somewhere nearby, returning me to the ugly present.

The rainfall increased, now gusts of wind veering the falling water from one side to the other.

Still in the safety of InTech’s entrance hall, I extracted from my bag the light cardigan I wore in the chilly building and covered my head with it in hopes that it would somehow act as a barrier between the rain and me. Thankfully, the bag I had grabbed that morning, even if not the prettiest, was waterproof.

Looking down at my beautiful and brand-new suede loafers—which, contrary to my bag, were gorgeous and unfortunately not resistant to water—I took in their pristine state one last time. “Farewell three-hundred-dollar shoes,” I told them with a sigh.

And with that, I pushed the glass door and stepped out into the dark and wet evening as I held my cardigan over my head.

It took me about five seconds under the rain to know that by the time I got to the C Line, I’d be completely and absolutely drenched.

Fantastic, I thought as I speed-walked under the unforgiving downpour. I only have a forty-five-minute commute to the part of Brooklyn I live in anyway. Time I’d spend soaked to my bones.

As I turned the corner of the building, another thunder roared somewhere above me, the rainfall increasing and turning my pace slower and clumsier, while more water fell heavily on top of my useless cardigan umbrella.

A gust of wind stuck half my hair to my cheek with a wet smack.

Trying to get the wet locks out of my face with my elbow, I kept hopping around, realizing quickly how bad of an idea that was.

My right foot slipped on a puddle, sliding forward, as my other leg remained rooted to the sidewalk. My hands, still holding the cardigan, whirled in the air as I fought to keep my balance.

Please, please, please, please, universe. My eyes closed, not wanting to bear witness to my own fate. Please, universe, don’t let this horrible week end this way.

My foot drifted one more inch as I held my breath before coming to a miraculous stop.

I opened my eyes. My legs were close to doing a split, but I was still standing.

Before I could fully straighten and resume my way under the rain, I noticed a car pulling up a short distance in front of me.

I knew someone who owned a vehicle in the same midnight blue.

Keep walking, Catalina, I told myself as I restarted my graceless hopping.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the passenger window roll down.

Without moving any closer to the vehicle I strongly suspected belonged to someone I was in no mood to interact with, I turned my body and zeroed in on the driver’s outline as I still held the stupid and wet piece of garment above me.

God-freaking-dammit.

Aaron was sitting inside. His body was leaning toward the copilot’s door, and while I could see his lips moving, I couldn’t make out what he was saying with the noise of the traffic, the wind, and the rain hitting the pavement with the characteristic force of a storm.

“What?” I shouted in his direction, not moving an inch.

Aaron waved his hand, probably indicating that I come closer. I stood there, squinting my eyes at him, wet as a drowned rat. He aggressively waved his pointer at me.

Oh, hell no.

I watched his scowl take over his expression as he mouthed a couple of words that looked a lot like impossible and stubborn.

“I can’t hear you!” I howled over the rain, still rooted to the spot.

His lips moved around what I assumed was something like for fuck’s sake. Unless he was telling me how much he wanted a milkshake. Which, judging by his scowl, I would not put any money on.

Rolling my eyes, I stepped closer. Very slowly. Almost ridiculously so, just so I wouldn’t slip and slide across the sidewalk again. Not in front of him of all people in New York City.

“Get in the car, Catalina.” I heard Aaron’s exasperation clinging to his voice, even over the furious and relentless rain.

Just like I had suspected, he hadn’t wanted a milkshake.

“Catalina,” he said as that blue gaze fell back on me, “get in.”

“It’s Lina.” After close to two years of him exclusively using my full name, I knew correcting him was of no use. But I was frustrated. Irritated. Tired. Soaked too. And I hated my full name. Papá—being the history nerd he was—had named both his daughters after two distinguished Spanish monarchs, Isabel and Catalina. My name being the one that never came back in trend in my country. “And what for?”

His lips parted in disbelief.

“What for?” he repeated my words. Then, he shook his head as he exhaled through his nose. “For an improvised trip to Disneyland. What would it be otherwise?”

For a long moment, I looked inside Aaron Blackford’s car with what I knew was an expression of genuine confusion.

“Catalina”—I watched his face go from exasperation to something that bordered resignation—“I am driving you home”—he stretched his arm and opened the door closest to me, as if it were a done deal—“before you catch pneumonia or almost break your neck. Again.”

Again.

That last part he had added very slowly.

Blood rushed to my cheeks. “Oh, thank you,” I gritted through my teeth. I tried to push down how embarrassed I was and plastered a fake smile on my face. “But there’s no need.” I stood in front of the open door, my wet hair sticking to my face again. I finally dropped the stupid cardigan and started squeezing water off it. “I can manage myself. This is just rain. If I’ve survived this long without breaking my neck, I think I can get home on my own today too. Plus, I’m not in a rush.”

Also, I have been avoiding you since you walked out of my office earlier today.

As I uselessly twisted some more water off my cardigan, I watched his eyebrows knit, regaining his earlier expression as he processed my words.

“What about the cat?”

“What cat?”

His head tilted. “Mr. Cat.”

The water must have been seeping through my skull because it took me an extra second to pin down what he was talking about.

“Your neighbor’s furless cat that you are not allergic to,” he said slowly as my eyes widened. “Ryan’s.”

I averted my eyes. “Bryan. My neighbor’s name is Bryan.”

“Not important.”

Ignoring that last remark, I couldn’t help but notice a line of cars forming behind Aaron’s.

“Get in the car. Come on.”

“No need, really.” One more car piled up. “Mr. Cat will survive a little longer without me.”

Aaron’s mouth opened, but before he could say anything, the blaring sound of a horn startled me, making me give a little jump and almost collide against the car’s open door.

“Por el amor de Dios!” I squealed.

Turning my head with my heart in my throat, I discovered it was one of New York City’s infamous yellow taxis. After a few years of living and working in the city, I had learned my lesson when it came to angry drivers. Or pissed New Yorkers in general. They’d let you know how they felt exactly when they felt it.

Proving my point, a trail of ugly-sounding words was thrown in our direction.

I turned back just in time to watch Aaron curse under his breath. He looked just as furious as the taxi driver.

Another nerve-racking honking noise—this time much, much, much longer—blared in my ears, making me jump again.

“Catalina, now.” Aaron’s tone was severe.

I blinked at him for a second too long, a little dazed by everything going on around me.

“Please.”

And before I could even process that word that had slipped out of him, a yellow blur was driving past us, gifting us with a ragey, “Assholes!” and blaring his horn with something close to devotion.

Those two words—Aaron’s please and that assholes—propelled my legs into the safety of Aaron’s car. With impressive speed, I found myself letting my body fall onto the leather seat with a wet thud and smacking the door shut.

Silence instantly engulfed us, the only sounds the muffled rattle of the rain against the shell of Aaron’s car and the dull roar of the engine moving us forward and into the chaos that was New York’s traffic.

“Thank you,” I croaked, feeling extremely uncomfortable as I fastened my belt.

Aaron kept his eyes on the road. “Thank you,” he answered, delivering that you with sarcasm, “for not making me get out and carry you inside myself.”

The visual of what he had just said caught me completely off guard. My eyes widened before then quickly narrowing at him. “And how in the world did you think that would be a good idea?”

“I was wondering myself, believe me.”

That answer did not make any sense. And for some reason, it made my cheeks heat up. Again.

Turning my head away from him and focusing on the almost-lawless array of moving cars ahead of us, I shifted awkwardly in my seat. Then, I stopped abruptly, noticing my soaked clothes made weird squishy noises against the leather.

“So …” I started as I slid to the edge, stretching the seat belt along with me. More noises followed. “This is a very nice car.” I cleared my throat. “Is it an air freshener that makes it smell all new and leathery?” I knew it wasn’t; the interior was in pristine condition.

“No.”

Moving my ass further up to the very end with yet another squishy sound, I cleared my throat. Straightening my back, I opened my mouth, but nothing came out, not when my mind was stuck on the fact that my soaked clothes were probably ruining the most likely expensive fabric underneath them.

This was a bad idea. I should never have climbed in his car. I should have walked.

“Catalina,” I heard Aaron from my left side, “have you ever been inside a moving vehicle before?”

My eyebrows wrinkled. “What? Of course. Why do you ask?” I queried from my position at the edge of the copilot’s seat. My knees were touching the dashboard.

He slid me a glance, his eyes assessing my stance.

Oh.

“Well, just so you know,” I added quickly, “this is how I always sit. I love watching everything from up close.” I pretended to be engrossed by the traffic. “I looooove rush-hour. It’s so—”

We came to a sudden halt, and my head and whole body were pushed forward. So much that my eyes closed on instinct. I could already taste the flavor of the PVC that covered the refined lines of the dashboard. The elegant details in the wood too.

Although it never did. Something stopped me midway.

“Jesus,” I heard being muttered.

One eye opened, taking in the delivery truck crossed in front of us. Then, my other eye popped open, too, and my gaze slid down, finding the explanation as to why my face wasn’t tattooed on the polished surface of Aaron’s dashboard.

A hand. A big one, all five fingers splayed across my collarbone and … well, chest.

Before I could blink, I was being pushed back, an array of squeaks accompanying the motion. Right until my whole back was flush against the seat rest.

“Stay right there,” came the order from my left as his fingers heated my skin across my drenched blouse. “If you are worried about the seat, it’s just water. It will dry off.” Aaron’s words weren’t reassuring. They couldn’t be when he sounded just as angry as a few minutes ago. If not a little more.

He retrieved his hand, the movement brisk and stiff.

I swallowed, grabbing on to the seat belt that now rested where his palm had been. “I don’t want to ruin it.”

“You won’t.”

“Okay,” I said, stealing a quick glance at him.

His gaze was on the road, shooting daggers at whoever had been responsible for that little mishap.

“Thanks.”

Then, we were moving again. The car was filled with silence while Aaron’s attention remained on his task and mine took the chance to scatter.

I surprised myself, thinking of Rosie’s words.

“I don’t think Aaron is all that bad,” she had said earlier today.

But why had that thought waited to seep in until right now? To sound so loud and clear in my head? It wasn’t like Mr. Sunshine here was being any nicer than he usually was.

Although he had sort of just saved me from the rain. And a good blow to the head.

Silently sighing, I cursed myself for what I was about to do.

“Thank you for printing out those papers for me, by the way,” I said quietly, fighting the impulse to take it back immediately. But I didn’t. I could be diplomatic. At least, right now. “It was very nice of you, Aaron.” That last part had me wincing, the admission feeling funny on my tongue.

I turned to look at him, taking in his hard profile. I watched the tight line of his jaw relax a little.

“You are welcome, Catalina.”

He kept his gaze on the road.

Whoa. Look at us. That was … very civil.

Before I could delve any more into that, a shiver crawled all the way down my back, making me shudder. I hugged my middle in hopes of getting warmer inside the wet clusterfuck that was my clothing.

Aaron’s hand shot to the console, changing the temperature setting and switching on the heating of my seat. I immediately felt the pleasant hot air brushing my ankles and arms, my legs growing gradually warmer.

“Better?”

“Much. Thank you.” I faced him with a small smile.

His head turned, and he searched my face with a skeptical expression.

It was almost as if he were waiting for me to add something.

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t let all these thank yous get to your head, Blackford.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” He lifted one of his hands from the wheel. And I swore there was a hint of humor in his voice. “Just wondering if I should enjoy it or if I should ask if you are okay.”

“That’s a good question, but I don’t think it’s one I can answer.” I shrugged my shoulders, fighting the snappy comeback rising to my tongue. I sighed. “Honestly? I am soaked to my bones, and I’m hungry and tired. So, I’d enjoy it if I were you.”

“That bad of a day?” That tiny pinch of humor was gone.

Sensing the start of another shudder, I burrowed myself in the heated fabric of the seat. “More like a bad week.”

Aaron hummed in response. It was a deep sound, a little like a rumble.

“This might not surprise you, but I have been close to murdering a few people this week,” I confessed, taking the truce I had imposed as a green light for venting to him. “And you are not even at the top of the list.”

A very light and very subdued snort came from him. Truce and all, I guessed I was allowed to admit that I liked it. It made my lips bend in a smile.

“I …” He trailed off, considering something. “I don’t know how to take that either. Should I be offended or grateful?”

“You can be both, Blackford. Plus, there’s time until the day is over. You can still claim your rightful place as the number one person who awakens my most murderous side.”

We stopped at a light. Aaron’s head turned slowly, and I was caught off guard by how light his expression was. His ocean eyes were clear and his face more relaxed than I’d ever seen it. We stared at each other for two or three long seconds. Another shiver curled at the nape of my neck.

I blamed the wet clothes.

Without missing a beat and as if he had eyes on the side of his head, he turned to the road as the light changed to green. “I’ll need directions from this point on.”

Puzzled by the implications of his request, my head spun in the other direction. I took in the layout of the wide avenue we were driving through. “Oh,” I murmured. “We are in Brooklyn.”

I had been so … distracted that I had forgotten about telling Aaron where I lived. Although he wasn’t too off track. Or at all.

“You live in this part of the city, right? North Central Brooklyn?”

“Yeah,” I blurted. “Bed-Stuy.” I confirmed with a nod of my head. “I just … how did you know?”

“You complain.”

What? I blinked at his explanation.

He continued, “This way okay, or should I turn?”

Clearing my throat, I stumbled over my words. “Yes, stay on Humboldt Street, and I’ll let you know when to turn.”

“Okay.”

I gripped my seat belt, feeling a little too warm all of a sudden. “So, I complain?” I mumbled.

“About the commute,” Aaron answered calmly. I opened my mouth, but he continued, “You have mentioned that it takes you forty-five minutes to get to the part of Brooklyn you live in.” He paused thoughtfully. “You rant about it almost every day.”

My lips clipped shut. I did complain but not to him. I pretty much vented to everybody else. Yeah, half the time, Aaron was somewhere around, but I never thought he was interested in what I had to say if it didn’t concern work. Or if it concerned me.

He shocked me by asking, “Who’s made the top besides me then? The list with the people you might have wanted to murder this week.”

“Huh …” I trailed off, surprised that he was interested enough to ask.

“I want to know my competition,” he said, sending my head swiveling in his direction. “It’s only fair.”

Was that a joke? Oh my God, it was, wasn’t it?

Studying his profile, I felt myself smiling warily. “Let me see.” I could play this game. “All right, so Jeff”—I counted with my fingers—“my cousin Charo”—a second finger—“and Gerald. Yes, definitely him too.” I let my hands drop to my lap. “Hey, look at that; you didn’t even make the top three, Blackford. Congratulations.”

Frankly, I was genuinely surprised myself.

I watched how his brows furrowed.

“What’s the problem with your cousin?”

“Oh, nothing.” I waved my hand in the air, thinking of what Mamá had said. What that Sherlock Holmes wannabe had said about not finding photographic evidence of my made-up boyfriend. “Just some family drama.”

Aaron seemed to consider that for a long moment, in which we drove in silence. I used the time to look out the passenger window, watching the blurry streets of Brooklyn through the droplets running down the glass.

“Gerald is a prick,” came from the man in the driver’s seat.

Eyes wide, I looked over at him. His profile was hard, serious. And I didn’t think I’d ever heard Aaron curse.

“One day, he’ll get what he deserves. I’m shocked that hasn’t happened yet, if I’m being honest. If it were up to me …” He shook his head.

“If it were up to you, what? What would you do?” I watched a muscle jump in his jaw. He didn’t answer, so I averted my gaze, letting it fall back onto the passing traffic. This conversation was pointless. And I was too drained of energy to attempt to have it anyway. “It’s all right. It’s not like it’s my first rodeo with him.”

“What does that mean?” Aaron’s voice had a strange edge.

Trying not to pay attention to that, I answered as honestly as I could without getting into too much detail. I didn’t want Aaron’s pity or compassion. “He hasn’t been exactly pleasant and agreeable ever since I got promoted to team leader.” I shrugged, clasping my hands in my lap. “It’s like he can’t compute why someone like me has the same position he does.”