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

I looked at the time on the little clock I had on one of the bathroom shelves—6:45 p.m. Still fifteen minutes to spare if we went by the time he had initially agreed to pick me up. I shook my head.

Another knock. This one was harder. More impatient.

“Catalina?”

I decided to answer his lack of patience with silence. Someone had to show him that he couldn’t always get his way. Plus, I had been promised fifteen—all right, fourteen—minutes more.

Still feeling the crack that had reopened in my chest, I slipped my right foot inside one of my heels and lifted it to the toilet seat. Meticulously, I worked on the strap.

Taking my time, I did the same with the left one. I still had a few minutes, and I planned on—

A third knock never came. My lockless door flew open, startling the crap out of me and revealing a very restless man.

Aaron’s simmering blue eyes found mine.

I stood in heeled and shaky legs as I felt my chest heave with the aftershock of the intrusion.

“Catalina.” A speck of relief surfaced in those blue pools of impatience. “Why didn’t you answer when I called your name? You’ve been in here for a whole hour.” His palm was still on the doorknob, one of his feet on the tiled floor and his wide shoulders occupying all the space beneath the threshold of the door.

His blue eyes searched my face very slowly. Almost painfully so. So much that my breathing didn’t get a chance to go back to normal and scattered all over the place. I watched Aaron’s eyes traveling down the length of my dress, his expression hardening with every inch he navigated. I could see his jaw cramping down tightly by the time his gaze made its way back to mine. A muscle jumped.

Was he … was he mad?

It certainly looked like he was. For what reason, I couldn’t fathom. But it was right there. His lips pressed in that tight line that screamed something bothered him.

A subdued voice in my head told me that he probably regretted ever asking me to come to this thing with him. The attire of someone who didn’t even own a proper evening gown was probably not to his standards if he looked so displeased.

I ignored the discomfort in the pit of my stomach and snatched the first emotion that I could get ahold of. One that was extremely easy to summon when it came to him. “Aaron Blackford,” I hissed, finding my voice. “What in the world is wrong with you?!” My chest heaved up and down. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

“I knocked.” His tone was hard, matching his expression. “Twice.” That stupidly deep voice of his reverberated through my bathroom.

“I could have been naked, you know.”

Aaron shifted in front of me, not letting go of the knob. His large fingers gripping it in a way that made me wonder if it would give out under the pressure.

“But you are not,” he said, voice still hard. “You are definitely not naked.”

My gaze shot from his hand to his face. Just in time to watch how those two blue eyes jumped to my shoulders, traveled along my neck, and then returned to my eyes. His expression clouded further as we looked at each other for a long moment.

My palms started sweating, the longer neither of us said anything.

Jesus, what is even happening?

My heart raced faster, the more the air filled up with a tension I didn’t understand.

It was almost suffocating. Much more than earlier in the kitchen. So much that I felt how my guard came down, all kinds of thoughts assaulting my mind with nothing to stop the bruising.

“Is there …” I broke the silence. My voice coming out breathy. “Is there anything wrong?”

He shook his head. Just once. His eyes bounced down my body again very quickly. “You found a gown.”

“I did,” I admitted, looking down briefly. “It’s been such a long time since I last went on a date that I forgot it was even there.” I watched his expression take on a new edge, making me feel incredibly stupid for saying something like that. “Well, that doesn’t matter. Not that I’d wear this to any date anyway, I guess. It’s the only one I have, so I hope it’s okay.”

I passed my sweaty palms along my thighs, stopping myself at the prospect of messing with the fabric.

Aaron’s throat worked. “It’ll do.”

It’ll do?

I had no idea what I had been expecting him to say, but I’d be lying if I said that hadn’t stung a tiny little bit.

“Good,” I answered, looking away, not letting my shoulders sink. “Let’s go then.” Instructing my mouth to smile, I only looked back at Aaron when it was toothy and big.

He remained where he was, not uttering a single word.

“Come on,” I told him, keeping that fake megawatt smile where it was. “You don’t want to be late, do you?”

A couple of seconds after, he moved out of the way. Without a stare-off, which I appreciated because I wasn’t in the mood to look at him just yet.

I stepped out of the bathroom, and I made sure of two things. One, I didn’t brush his chest with my shoulder. And two, I didn’t have any reason to feel hurt by whatever Aaron Blackford said.

Chapter Seven

We had been driving in silence for the longest fifteen minutes of my life when I decided I could not take it any longer.

I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, and I knew that waiting for Aaron to say something would be like waiting for a brick wall to crack open and reveal the entrance to a wizardly world. But if I didn’t say anything to fill in this silence, I’d have to jump out of the moving car.

“So, a fundraiser.” My words fell into the reduced and quiet space, sounding too loud.

Aaron nodded, his gaze remaining on the road and both hands on the steering