The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas (the mitten read aloud TXT) 📗

than not, it was the wrong one. Sure, it wasn’t always as harmless as condescending and disrespectful comments like those Gerald had made. Sometimes, it was far, far worse than just that. I knew that. I had experienced that firsthand a long time ago.

I shook my head, pushing the memories away. “Would that have made a difference, Aaron? If I had asked you to intervene?” I asked him, as if he held the solution in his hands when he really didn’t. I watched him, feeling my heart race with trepidation. “Or if I told you I was exhausted from having to ask, would you step in then?”

Aaron studied me in silence, searching my face almost gingerly.

My cheeks heated up under his scrutiny, making me regret more and more that I had spoken.

“Forget I said anything, okay?” I averted my eyes, feeling disappointed and mad at myself for putting Aaron, out of all people, on the line when he didn’t owe me anything. Not a single thing. “I’m stuck with this anyway. It doesn’t matter how or why.” Or that it wouldn’t be the last time.

Aaron straightened, leaning his body toward me just the splinter of a hair. He took a deep breath as I seemed to hold mine, waiting for him to say whatever was brewing in his mind.

“You’ve never needed anyone to fight your battles, Catalina. That’s one of the things I respect the most about you.”

His words did something to my chest. Something that created a kind of pressure I wasn’t comfortable with.

Aaron never said stuff like that. Not to anyone and particularly not to me.

I opened my mouth to tell him that it didn’t matter, that I didn’t care, that we could just drop it, but he held up a hand, stopping me.

“On the other hand, I never pegged you for someone who would cower and not give their best when faced with a challenge. Whether it’s unfairly imposed or not,” he said, turning away and facing his laptop. “So, what’s it going to be?”

My jaw clamped closed.

I … I wasn’t cowering. I was not scared of this thing. I knew I could do it. I just … hell, I was just exhausted. It was hard, finding the motivation when something was this discouraging. “I’m not—”

“What is it going to be, Catalina?” His fingers moved on the laptop pad with practice. “Whining or working?”

“I am not whining,” I huffed.

Clark Kent look-alike jerk.

“Then, we work,” he fired back.

I took a good look at him, taking in how his jaw bunched up with determination. Perhaps some irritation too.

“There’s no we here,” I breathed out.

He shook his head, and I swore the ghost of a smile graced his lips for a fragment of a second.

“I swear to God …” He looked up, as if he were asking the heavens for patience. “You are taking the help. That’s it.” He peeked down at his watch, exhaling. “I don’t have the whole day to convince you.” Scowl back in place, he returned to the Aaron I knew. “We’ve wasted enough time already.”

This scowling Aaron I felt more comfortable with. He didn’t go around, saying stupid stuff, like that he respected me.

Now, it was my turn to scowl, as I was painfully aware of how I wasn’t kicking Aaron out of my office anymore.

“I’m as stubborn as you are,” he murmured, typing something in his laptop. “You know I am.”

Returning my attention to my computer screen, I decided to allow this strange truce to settle between us. Just for the sake of InTech’s reputation. For my own mental health, too, because he was driving me completely crazy.

We’d be two scowling idiots who would tolerate each other for an evening, I guessed.

“Fine. I’ll let you help me if you are so set on it,” I told him, trying not to focus on that warm ball of emotion forming in my belly.

One that felt a lot like gratitude.

He peeked at me quickly, something unreadable in his eyes. “We’ll need to start from scratch. Open a blank template.”

Looking away, I tried to focus on my screen.

We had been in silence for a couple of minutes when out of the corner of my eye, I perceived movement. Quickly after, he placed something on my desk. Right between us.

“Here,” I heard him say from my side.

Looking down, my gaze found something wrapped in wax paper. It was a square, about three or four inches long.

“What’s this?” I asked him, my eyes jumping to his profile.

“A granola bar,” he answered without looking at me, typing on his keyboard. “You are hungry. Eat it.”

I watched my hands move to the snack of their own accord. Once unwrapped, I inspected it closely. Homemade. It had to be, judging by the way roasted oats, dried fruits, and nuts were assembled together.

I heard Aaron’s long sigh. “If you ask me if it’s poisoned, I swear—”

“No,” I murmured.

Then, I shook my head, feeling that weird pressure in my chest again. So, I took the snack to my mouth, bit into it, and—holy granola bars. I moaned in delight.

“For Christ’s sake,” the man to my right muttered under his breath.

Gobbling all the nutty and sugary amazingness down, I shrugged. “Sorry, it was a moan-worthy bite.”

I watched his head shake as he was focused on the document on his screen. As I studied his profile, an odd and unfamiliar feeling settled in. And it had nothing to do with my appreciation for Aaron’s unexpected baking skills. It was something else, something warm and fuzzy that I had gotten a whiff of a few minutes earlier, but now, I wanted to bend my lips into a smile.

I was grateful.

Aaron Blackford, scowling Clark Kent look-alike, was in my office. Helping me and feeding me homemade snacks, and I was glad. Thankful even.

“Thank you.” The fugitive words escaped my lips.

He turned to face me, and I saw him relax for an instant. Then, his eyes jumped to my screen. He scoffed, “You still haven’t opened a blank template?”

“Oye.” The