The Spanish Love Deception

Chapter 85

That would explain why he was barely blinking as he stared at me for a long moment.

Time in which the last minute started settling in. Desperately, I searched my mind for something to say,

anything to excuse my brief and temporary madness that had resulted in me launching my body at his.

I came up empty.

He finally broke the silence. “You thought I wasn’t coming.”

A part of me didn’t want to admit it. Even when it was pretty obvious.

Aaron continued, accusation in his voice, “You hugged me because you thought I wasn’t coming.” His This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

gaze was searching. As if he couldn’t believe or understand what had just happened. “You’ve never

hugged me before.”

I stepped further back, fumbling with my hands and feeling a little overwhelmed by the way he was

looking at me. “I don’t think it computes as a hug when one of the parties remains like a wooden stick,

Captain Not So Obvious.” I decided right then that in my head, it hadn’t been a hug. “Plus, you were

late, and you never are, so what did you expect me to think?”

As I backed away some more, putting the right amount of space between our bodies, my gaze finally

managed to take him in completely. From head to toe. And … yeah, from toe to head too. Because the

soft fabric that had been pressed beneath my cheek a moment ago was a plain white cotton T-shirt.

And the legs that had remained unmovable under my hug attack were clad in faded jeans. And the—

Are those tennis shoes on his feet?

Yes, they totally were.

I had no idea what I had expected him to wear, but it surely wasn’t that. I hadn’t been prepared for the

image of Aaron standing in front of me in something that wasn’t the long-sleeved button-down shirt

tucked in his dress pants that I knew him in.

Aaron looked relaxed. Normal. Not like the aloof stainless steel–working machine I was around at work.

The one that screamed at you to keep your distance.

No. Ironically, what I wanted was to press my cheek against his chest again. Which was absolutely

ridiculous. And dangerous too. This new version of Aaron was just as dangerous as the one that smiled

and laughed. Because I liked it. A little too much for the well-being of our plan. Or mine.

“Catalina,” Aaron called, forcing my gaze to return to his face.

Cheeks heating, I pretended I hadn’t been ogling him. And appreciating what I ogled.

“Yes?”

“I asked if you were done with that?”

Mierda. “Done with what exactly?” I scratched the side of my neck, trying to conceal my

embarrassment.

“Panicking. About me not coming. Are you finally done with that? Because I am here now, just how I

said I would be. And I wasn’t late. You just happened to be shockingly early.” He tilted his head slightly

and then added, “For once.”

Eyes narrowed, I checked the time on my phone. “Fine, you might be right.” I returned my gaze to his.

“For once.”

The right corner of his lips tipped up. “Good. So, now that we have established that,” he started, and I

did not like one single bit how smug he looked all of a sudden, “do you think you are done looking at

me like I have grown a second head too? Because I’d like to get going.”

Busted. “Yep,” I squared my shoulders. “Done with that too.” I reached for the handle of my carry-on

suitcase. “I just didn’t know you owned normal clothes.”

Aaron cocked a brow.

My treacherous eyes swept him head to toe again. Dammit, he looked really, really good, all cozy and

comfy.

I shook my head. “Come on, Mr. Robot. We have bags to check in,” I told him, forcing my eyes away.

“Now that you are here and all.”

Reaching for the weekender bag—which was filled to the brim—I lifted it off the floor, hung it off my

shoulder, and tried to walk with as much grace as I could while probably looking a little bit like an

overloaded Sherpa.

In one long stride, Aaron caught up with me. I watched his eyebrow rise as he gave me a sideways

glance. “How long are you planning on staying in Spain?” He eyed my two pieces of bigger than strictly

necessary luggage. “I thought we’d be flying back on Monday.”

“And we are.”

Eyes wide, Aaron made a show out of looking me and my luggage up and down. “That’s how you pack

for three days?”

I quickened my pace while I tried really hard not to assplant on the terminal’s polished floor under the

weight of the bag on my shoulder. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

Instead of answering, his hand on my arm stopped my course. Without giving me a chance to

complain, he delicately snagged my bag and placed it on his shoulder.

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