Chapter 127
“He dejado una cafetera preparada,” Charo chimed behind me. She had prepared coffee for me. That
could only mean one thing: she was up to something. “Está ahí, mujer. En encimera.” Coffee was on
the countertop.
With my back still to her, I muttered my thanks and proceeded to pour some ck goodness in a mug.
Much to the displeasure of my hungover head—but not any surprise—she continued with her
monologue before I could even take the first sip.
“Hay suficiente para ti y para tu novio.” There was enough coffee for me and my boyfriend, she told
me. “Imagino que no tardará en despertarse ?no? Oye si quieres ir a marle para que no se enfríe el
café …” Charo continued.
If she was trying to get me to go fetch Aaron so the coffee she
had prepared wouldn’t get cold, she had another thinging. The coffee would spontaneously turn
into ice cubes before I willingly went back inside that room.
“Menuda sensación ha causado en familia. Tu madre no podía parar de …” And then she proceeded
to tell me about when and how and what had been said about my—fake—boyfriend, Aaron, in the mere
twenty-four hours he’d been in the country.
Which had been a lot, considering the short amount of time.
That was exactly why having Charo sharing amodations with us was so dangerous. She had no
social filters of any kind and no regard for privacy. I was genuinely shocked she wasn’t plundering
herself into our room and taking my fake boyfriend out of bed, so she could continue her perusal.
Charo’s chatter kept filling the kitchen as I nodded my head absently. “Y justoo le dije a tu madre,
llegará un día en el que Lina tendrá que superar lo de Daniel.” Just how I told your mom, one day, Lina
will have to get over Daniel. “Sino se va a quedar para vestir santos y …”
Jesus, my cousin had just used that Spanish expression I hated so much. The one I had heard directed
at me more than once, always muttered or whispered, or just like she had done, loud and clear. Se va a
quedar para vestir santos. Which literally tranted to something about dressing saints and meant that
I’d stay single and dedicate my life to God for the rest of my life.
Feelingpletely defenseless, standing all alone with my cousin, I couldn’t decide if sleepy Aaron
was a blessing or a curse anymore. Yesterday, when he had been with me, facing Charo, my sister,
Daniel, and everybody else, it had been unexpectedly easier than doing that now.
I realized now that as much as I had brought him to Spain with that particr purpose, I had never truly
expected that it would work. Or that we’d be a team. That he’d instill strength in me—even if I’d
use it to lie to my family—or that he’d make me feel like I wasn’t alone in this.
And the scariest, most terrifying part was that all that was starting to bleed through the lines that
defined our deal. In a little over a day.
The proof wasst night. We had almost kissed. We had done more than just that. More than practicing
or pretending.
Crazy. It was crazy, but it was also true. I was honest enough to admit that to myself.
But that didn’t mean I was brave enough to acknowledge it out loud. I was still the coward who had
walk-of-shamed her way out of that room like her ass was on fire before I was forced to have a
conversation.
And I’d do that again.
Aaron would soon be my boss, and that would change everything. Having him here—in Spain, in
my home country, attending my sister’s wedding as my fake date—was already dangerous. It was
reason enough for me to shake in my boots at the prospect of someone at work finding out. It didn’t
have anything to do with a weirdpany policy or with me having a pet peeve. I had already been
involved with someone where a supervisory rtionship between us had existed, where I had not been
the one in the position of authority. And where had that led me? To being the only one having to deal
with the dirty and poisonous tongues that hadn’t thought twice before stigmatizing me and everything I
had worked so hard for. Just for what? For a fewughs? For pointing a few fingers? For bringing me
down, so they’d feel a little better?
History could repeat itself, and this time, I would be the one to me. It would be me who had tripped
over the same stone for a second time. This time, I’d be jeopardizing my career, too, not just the
credibility of my work, my reputation as a woman, or my social life. And it would all be on me.
Taking another sip of coffee from my mug, I tried to shove all that aside.
Whatever I thought was going on between Aaron and me would have to … not go. Anywhere.
Because it couldn’t. It wouldn’t. And it was all a lie anyway.
As if the very devil was being summoned by Charo, who kept talking about him, or by me, who kept
thinking about him one way or the other, Aaron materialized in the kitchen. His eyes immediately found
me, as if I were the only thing between these four walls.
My mug froze midair. My lips parted, and my gaze was hungry to take all of him in. But how could I not?
The simple tee that covered his broad chest did nothing to hide a body I now knew had been carefully
cultivated to perfection for years. Decades. Those loose pajama pants I had seen hanging low on his
hipsst night still did. Enticing me. Making me think of how he had pressed those hips into me with
painfully delicious softness.
But it was the look on his face that started—no, rekindled—the fluttering sensation in the pit of my
stomach. His features were seemingly snug with sleep, rxed, and his hair was adorably ruffled. But
his eyes … well, there wasn’t a trace of sleep there. They told a whole different story. One I had the
strong suspicion was extremely simr to the one bubbling in mine.
And that only encouraged the flutter to take flight and spread to the rest of my body.
Averting my gaze before all this gawking and daydreaming damaged my brain, I forced my lungs to
take in the oxygen my body seemed to need in that moment.
“Ay!” Charo’s screech made me flinch. “Mira quién está aquí! Good morning, Aaron. We were just
talking about you.”
Peeking at Aaron, I saw his eyes widen and then quickly return to its normal size.
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