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

this is not like bidding for a boat or a Porsche. I guess you cannot take the bachelor for a ride.” Okay, that sounded … wrong. One could technically take someone for a ride. A certain sort of ride. “Not that kind of ride,” I rushed out, watching Aaron’s expression change. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Not like a ride in a yeehaw kind of way. I said that because one takes cars for a ride. Like, for a spin. But not men, not in that way. At least, I have never taken a man for a spin.” I shook my head. I was making it worse, and the more I talked, the more Aaron’s lips paled. “You know what I mean.”

“No,” Aaron answered simply, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip. “More often than not, I don’t know what you mean, Catalina.” He brought his hand to his right temple. “Whoever offers the highest bid, which will be donated to the cause, gets to go on a date with the man in question. That’s what the bachelor is acquired for.”

Hold up, what?

“A date?”

His brows knit. “Yes, a date.”

“Like a date, date?”

“A date, date. Yes. You know, normally, two people who engage in a social appointment that often involves eating. Sometimes, other kinds of activities.” He leveled me with a look. “Like going for rides and spins.”

My lips parted. No, my mouth hung open.

Was he … had he just …

“Ha, hilarious.” My cheeks heated. But I didn’t have time to be embarrassed. Because that meant … “So, do we have to … you know, do it?”

“What exactly?”

“The date thing,” I explained, lowering my voice so nobody could hear us. “I know I’m only your fake bidder. So, do we have to do it anyway? Like, fake do it? Because you said I’m here to fake bid on you, so I just … you know.”

Judging by Aaron’s expression, there was something from all the things I had just said that he found particularly unpleasant. His throat worked slowly, looking as if he were swallowing something sour.

“Never mind. We’ll figure it out later. I guess it’s not important.” What was important now was climbing out of this hole I had just dug for myself. “So, do you take part in the auction every year?”

His eyes looked away for a heartbeat and then settled back on me. “Ever since I moved to New York. This is my third time.”

“And you … take all these bidders on dates?” Okay, that wasn’t exactly changing the topic of conversation, but a part of me wanted to know. Kind of.

“Of course. It’s part of the deal.”

His earlier words came to mind.

“And you don’t go back on your word.”

“Exactly.”

That confirmation, that part of the deal bit, felt like a punch to the stomach. Back in my apartment, I had thought he’d sounded sincere when he told me that he wouldn’t pull out of our deal. And I had felt … skeptical in a way, yes, but a part of me had also felt special. For lack of a better word. Like he was doing that for me and I could count on him. Perhaps because he knew how important it was for me, how much I needed him. But now, it seemed I had been wrong. This was the way Aaron was wired.

It didn’t have anything to do with me.

And that made sense. The dumb thing to do had been thinking otherwise.

“And what do you do on these dates?” I asked without thinking much of it, just so he wouldn’t get a chance to see anything on my face. “Where do you take them?”

“Nothing special,” he admitted with a sigh. “The bachelor usually picks the activity and puts everything together. So, the two times I have participated, I have organized something at one of the animal shelters in the city. Spending some time there, volunteering and helping out or even taking a few dogs for a walk.”

That was … sweet. Generous and kind and way more than I would have ever expected from him, if my heart skipping a teeny-tiny beat and catching me by surprise was any indication.

I looked down, realizing my fingers were playing with the cuff around my wrist again. “That’s where you took last year’s bidder then?”

“Yes.” I could feel him silently asking me not to go there. Not to ask what Angela had mentioned earlier.

“Oh,” I said distractedly. “Speaking of last year”—I had to ask—“what happened during the auction?”

Aaron’s shoulders tensed, his face falling with resignation. “Not much.”

“Oh yeah?” I feigned surprise. “So, this fierce competition that Angela was talking about, the one I should not be scared of, doesn’t ring any bell?”

I watched his lips twitch and then bend in a pout.

A pout. On Aaron’s lips.

“Like no bells whatsoever?” I pressed, getting acquainted with that expression of his for the first time ever. “Really none?”

Aaron Blackford kept pouting, which in turn made me want to smile as wide as I could go. Not that I would. I suppressed the urge.

“Oh, okay.” I shrugged. “I’m sure getting mobbed by overexcited bidders is a common occurrence for you then, Blackford.” I teased him because how could I not when he looked all … mortified and ready to come out of his skin? Plus, he had teased me first anyway. “How did it happen exactly? Did they fling themselves at you? Or was it perhaps something subtler? Like hurling their money at your feet? Then their underwear?”

If this man had the ability to blush, I would have bet all my money on those cheeks turning red any moment.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You are a big boy anyway.”

Aaron’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Yes, we have stated that.” He moved one step closer. “I can fend for myself.”

“It didn’t sound like that.” My voice came out wobblier than I would have liked.

Then, he took one more step, and something fluttered in my belly.

“Luckily”—he leaned closer, fixating his blue eyes on