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

wipe my ass with dollar bills classy. And no, I don’t mean to be judgy here, but, Jesus.” Bringing my hands to my head, I started pacing the few feet that comprised my kitchen space. “A little heads-up would have been nice. You could have told me yesterday, you know? I would have gone shopping this morning, Aaron. I would have prepared, I don’t know, a few options for you to choose from. I have no idea what I’m going to do now. I have a couple of formal gowns, but they are not … right.”

It was past six in the evening and—

“You would have done all that for this?” His lips parted very briefly, giving him a bewildered air that I was not used to seeing in him. Then, his jaw returned to its former position. “For me?”

I stopped pacing. “Yes.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest. Why was he so shocked? “Of course I would have.” Studying his face, I took in the weird way in which he was looking at me. “First of all, I would hate to show up to your ‘charity event’ ”—I air-quoted—“looking like a clown. Believe it or not, I do have some sense of self-esteem and the ability to get embarrassed.”

Aaron’s eyes kept shining with that quality that made me nervous.

“And second of all, I wouldn’t want you to retaliate and wear God knows what to my sister’s wedding, just to spite me. Or like, back out on me for some kind of etiquette infringement now that I’m counting on you coming to Spain with me. I …” I trailed off, losing my voice. “I kind of need you, you know?”

That last part had somehow materialized on my tongue. I didn’t realize it had left my mouth until it was too late and I wasn’t able to take it back.

“I’d never do that,” he answered, catching me by surprise. “I won’t back out. We have a deal.”

Feeling exposed by my admission, I averted my eyes. I focused on his hands, which had fallen out of his pockets and rested by his sides.

“I won’t do that, Catalina,” I heard him say. “Not even if you really pushed me to, and I know that you can.”

I had the feeling that he had purposely said that with sarcasm. Just enough to bait me into snapping back. But for some reason, I didn’t. His words felt sincere. But I just … couldn’t know if he meant it. It was really hard for me to get past our history. All the jabs, nudges, and shoves. All the small ways we had made sure the other one didn’t forget how much we disliked each other.

“Whatever you say, Blackford.” I didn’t sound like I believed myself, but it’d have to do. “I don’t have time for this.” Whatever this was, I wasn’t sure anymore. I brought my hand to the side of my neck and massaged that spot absently. “Just … make yourself at home. I’ll see what I can find for this fundraiser we are attending.”

I walked to where he was standing, his large frame blocking the opening that gave way to my living area. Coming to a halt a step before him, I looked up and arched an eyebrow, asking him without words to please move. Aaron’s head towered over my short height, staring down at me, his eyes flying all over my face. Down my throat and around my neck. Right where my fingers had massaged my skin a moment ago.

His eyes returned to mine with something I didn’t recognize in his blue gaze.

We stood close, my bare toes almost touching the point of his polished shoes. And I felt my breathing increase its pace at the realization. My chest moved up and down more quickly with every second I was under Aaron’s scrutiny.

Refusing to look away, I held his stare.

Leaning my head back, I couldn’t help but notice that he felt larger than ever. As if his frame had expanded a couple of sizes more. Seeming much taller and bigger than me, all clad in that tux that had the power to turn him into someone I was finding hard not to look at. Not to drink up every detail that sparked with this newness he seemed to be carrying around today.

Aaron’s tongue peeked out and traveled along his bottom lip, driving my gaze to his mouth. His full lips shone under the light of my kitchen.

My skin started turning too warm beneath the fabric of my stupid robe. Standing this close, I was feeling too hot, seeing too much of him, noticing way too many things at once.

I willed my gaze up, back to his blue eyes. They were still studying me, that something still locked in. Hidden behind them. A heartbeat passed, and I could have sworn that his body inched in my direction, just the splinter of a hair. But maybe it was just my imagination.

It didn’t really matter.

“I was serious.” His voice was low and hushed, the quality of it almost raspy, hearing it this closely.

Every rational thought was long-lost, but I knew what he was talking about. Of course I did.

He exhaled softly, and I smelled the mint on his breath. “I wouldn’t retaliate in any way. I know how important your sister’s wedding is.”

The truth behind his words hit me harder than the lack of distance between our bodies. My lips parted, and my stomach dropped to my feet.

“I won’t go back on my word. I never do.”

Was Aaron Blackford really reassuring me? Guaranteeing me that no matter what was or had been between us, this was safe ground? That he would keep his word, fair and square? That he wouldn’t go back on it? Was he doing all that? It certainly sounded like it. Which told me that either he read minds—which I honestly hoped he didn’t—or that perhaps Rosie hadn’t been wrong about him.

Maybe Aaron wasn’t all that bad.

Maybe I had been wrong about him.