The Spanish Love Deception

by Elena Armas

  TJ stared back at his friend with something I failed to identify. An emotion that I wanted to understand where it was coming from. How and why did it affect Aaron, and what did it have to do with that man TJ had called Coach?

  “I convinced my pops to come tonight. I signed him up for the auction.” That mischievous smile was back. “It’s time he gets out there and starts living his life again. He’s very excited.” Before Aaron or I could say anything—Aaron because he still looked a little lost himself and me because I was trying to understand why—TJ turned to me. “So, Lina, if you get tired of his boring face, just know there are not one, but two James men available on the stage.”

  “I’ll make sure to remember that.” I smiled at him, trying to lighten my tone. “Although I think I have my hands full with this one.”

  I felt Aaron’s eyes on me, warming up my face.

  Why did I say that?

  “Which reminds me,” TJ said. “The auction will be starting soon, and I was sent to steal this ugly bastard away. So, if you don’t mind, Lina, we should get going.”

  “Oh, of course.” I let my gaze roam around, realizing how most of the people had shifted closer to the stage, which was at one of the ends of the rooftop. A wave of nervousness washed over me. “You guys should go.” My smile turned tight. “I can spare the company for a little while.” I lowered my voice. “I’m sure you know how chatty he can get.” I pointed at Aaron. “So, my ears can use the break.”

  TJ cackled again. “Are you sure you want to spend your money on him, Lina? I’m telling you—”

  Aaron glared at his friend. “Quit it already, would you?”

  “Okay, okay. I was just saying, man.” TJ’s hands went up.

  I chuckled, but it came out a little strangled because Aaron had eaten the distance that separated us, my arm fully coming in contact with his chest, and all of a sudden, I didn’t want him to go.

  My eyes landed on Aaron, who was looking down at me with an apology shining in the blue of his eyes. I must have looked and sounded as nervous as I felt if Aaron was feeling bad for leaving me to myself for a little while. I shook my head, telling myself to stop being silly.

  “Yes, I think I’m sure, TJ,” I answered TJ’s initial question while I searched Aaron’s face. “Go. I’ll be fine on my own.”

  He seemed to hesitate, not moving from my side, and I felt bad for making him feel like he needed to babysit me.

  “Don’t be silly, Big A. I’m fine, and you have to go.” I absently patted Aaron’s chest, my palm freezing on the spot.

  Aaron looked down at my hand very slowly, just as electricity shot up my arm. I retrieved my hand immediately, not having the slightest idea why I had done that besides the fact that the touch had come naturally to me. Aaron had felt bad for leaving me alone—probably because I had looked like someone had kicked my puppy—and I had automatically tried to comfort him with physical contact. A friendly pat. But we weren’t friends, and I shouldn’t forget that.

  I cleared my throat. “Go, seriously.” I lifted my empty glass in the air, feeling my cheeks heat for the umpteenth time tonight. “I’ll busy myself with getting a refill.”

  “I can stay a little longer, explain to you how the bidding works.” His voice was oddly gentle. It made me uncomfortable. “Get you another drink too.”

  The urge to touch him again—to reassure him I’d be fine—was back. I suppressed it. “I think I can figure it out on my own,” I told him softly. It couldn’t be all that complex.

  “What if I still want to tell you about it?”

  My urge to antagonize him—to attempt to get us back to how we were supposed to be—somehow pushed me to rise on my tiptoes. I leaned in, so only he could hear me. “I’ll figure it out. And if I don’t, I swear, I will try not to spend all your money on something stupid, like a yacht or Elvis’s used underpants. But I make no promises, Blackford.”

  I leaned back, expecting to find him rolling his eyes or scoffing. Anything that would indicate I had succeeded and this was still us—the Aaron and Lina I was comfortable with. Instead, I was welcomed by blue eyes that were full of … something that churned and made me uneasy.

  He hid it with a blink. “Okay.” That was the only answer he gave me.

  No snarky comeback. No scolding comment about how unfunny and inappropriate it would be to spend his money on a boat. No appalled glance after mentioning Elvis’s knickers.

  Nothing, except okay.

  Okay then.

  “All right, let’s go,” TJ said, encouraging Aaron to take a step away from me. “I’ll see you later, Lina.” He winked.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled and then shook my head and tried to look like I wasn’t as confused as I felt. “Woo those flocks of bidders, guys!” I cheered with my fist in the air.

  TJ openly laughed, and Aaron remained looking at me with something I hoped was not regret after asking me to do this whole fake date thing for him.

  Both men proceeded to turn and then walked away side by side, the sight too enticing for me not to follow them with my gaze. So, I stood there and watched them. I saw how TJ leaned into my fake date’s side and said something probably just for him. Aaron’s head never turned, his step never ceased; his only reaction was a shake of his raven head. Then, he shoved TJ away with a force I was sure would have sent anybody else flying.

  Another one of TJ’s cackles resonated in the air.

  And I found myself grinning as I watched them stride off. Thinking about how seeing Aaron around all these people who belonged to a life I hadn’t had the slightest clue existed—one that he had kept well guarded, just like he did everything else—was as outlandish as it was fascinating.

  My hand rose of its own accord, catching me by surprise.

  “Fifteen hundred for the lady in the beautiful midnight-blue gown,” Angela—who had been in charge of conducting the auction for the last hour—called from behind the microphone stand with a rather shocked smile.

  My throat dried up, making it impossible for me to swallow my own audacity.

  I was a despicable human being because I had just bid a dizzying amount of money on someone. A man. A bachelor no less.

  One that wasn’t Aaron.

  The seemingly sweet and old man I had just bid on gave an enthusiastic cheer from the center of the stage, relief taking over his wrinkled face. He bowed in my direction.

  As much as I felt horrible and guilty and honestly a little terrified, I couldn’t help but smile at the man in return.

  Willing my eyes to stay put—and not to jump to Aaron, who was a few feet to the left of the stage, waiting for his turn to be auctioned—I tried to shake off the deserved sense of guilt that had settled between my shoulders.

  Chill. I needed to chill. Someone else would bid higher. The old man just needed a little push to get this going.

  And that was exactly what I had done. Or what I had found myself doing after the five minutes of awkward and heartbreaking silence following that sweet-looking man stepping on the stage. I had recognized that smile immediately. It had been the same playing on TJ’s lips.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, sixteen hundred for Patrick James.” Angela’s voice came through the speakers.

  No hands rose in the air. Not even one.

  Dammit.

  Who I had assumed was TJ’s pops, Patrick, stood on the stage with his gray hair, suspenders, and back a little curved with age, looking completely out of place when compared with every other man who had been up for grabs—or bids, whatever—that night. He smiled, satisfied enough with just being there. With just having one bidder, which happened to be me. And that was bad, bad, bad. Because I was here to bid on Aaron. Not for a man that, according to Angela’s introduction, was a widower who was looking for a second chance not in love, but in living life.

  Jesus, I’d take him on a date if I had to. I hadn’t been able to stand there and do nothing when a man who reminded me so much of my passed abuelo for some damn reason, a man I kne
w was TJ’s pops, waited for someone, for anybody, to bid on him. This was a fundraiser, for Christ’s sake. Weren’t people supposed to be donating their money?

  That was what I had done. Only perhaps I had technically bid with money that wasn’t mine.

  I grimaced.

  Don’t look at Aaron, Lina. Don’t.

  I’d pay for the donation with my own funds. The most pressing issue was, could I bid for two bachelors?

  Shit. I really hoped so.

  Angela continued pitching the sweet man on the stage. “Mr. James has an affinity for candlelit dinners, and he is a believer of fulfilling his own destiny.”

  Patrick’s head nodded. No hands were visible.

  Mierda, mierda, mierda.

  I couldn’t look at Aaron. Not even when I could feel both his eyes boring holes in my profile. I’d bet he was fuming. But I’d apologize later. I’d … explain.

  “He is a sailing aficionado, an activity he picked up ever since his grandson bought him a beautiful sailboat. One that he intends on putting to good use on his date.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I tracked down around five women who were in the mood for a sailing date placing their bids.

  Relief filled me so instantly that I felt about ten pounds lighter.

  My gaze searched for Aaron then. And it didn’t take me any time to find him. My eyes seemed to know exactly where he was standing.

  My breath caught for a second.

  Stupid, stupid tuxedo.

  I had been so wrapped up in what was happening that he, looking all imposing and striking on top of that stage, caught me completely off guard.

  The auction for Patrick continued in the background, my eyes making their way to Aaron’s. They were narrowed. Probably assessing what the hell that had been. Other than that, he looked … fine. Neutrally stoic. Just like he usually did. Except for the distracting tux that hung off his body like a glove.

  Finding a little comfort in the fact that Aaron didn’t seem to be completely furious, I shrugged my shoulders and mouthed, I’m sorry, okay?

  Aaron’s eyes narrowed further, and then his head shook lightly. You’re not, I watched his lips enunciate.

  I huffed. I am, I mouthed back.

  I was very, very sorry, and he—

  He shook his head again, disbelief in his eyes. You’re not.

  Aggravated by the words Aaron had mouthed—twice—even though he had every right to and I had sort of anticipated it, I threw both my hands up with irritation.

  Jesus, this man—

  “Nineteen hundred for the lady in midnight blue.” Angela’s voice reached my ears.

  Wait, what? No.

  I flinched, then dropped my hands to my sides, and stuck them there. Looking at Angela for confirmation of what I had done, even if this time accidentally, I found her pointing in my direction.

  Shit.

  Returning my gaze to Aaron, I watched him roll his eyes, lips pressed into a thin line.

  Grimacing, I sent him a tight smile that I hoped communicated how really sorry I was and hoped Patrick had another one of those boats. Because I needed somebody else to bid on the old widower man.

  Angela announced the next sum, not obtaining an immediate answer.

  The guilt returned, together with a pinch of embarrassment. Which pushed me to pin Aaron with a serious look as I mouthed again, Sorry, very slowly and methodically. Making sure he understood the sentiment behind it.

  Aaron’s eyes held mine, one of those deadpan expressions in place.

  I swear. I made my lips form the silent words in a very exaggerated manner. Then, I curled my lips into a sad face, keeping the rest of my body still—just so I wouldn’t accidentally bid on any more bachelors. I am really sorry, I mouthed like a total idiot.

  And I was. Sorry, that was. Although a bit of an idiot too.

  A few heads turned and sent me a fair share of weird glances, but I didn’t let that deter me, and I kept my lips bent down. Telling Aaron with my eyes that I was sorry. Although, if you asked me, it was on him for bringing me of all people to do something that I was clearly not qualified for.

  The sight must have been truly something because before I knew what was happening, Aaron’s shoulders shook a couple of times, his stance broke, and one of his hands went to the back of his neck as his head dipped. I couldn’t see his face, so I had no clue of what was going on. All money was on him bursting in frustration and anger and turning into the Hulk. And just when I was about to really start worrying, he lifted back that raven-haired head of his and revealed something I would never have bet on.

  The biggest, widest, and handsomest smile was splitting his expression. Wrinkling the corners of his eyes. Transforming him into a man my eyes couldn’t take in fast enough. A man I had never seen before. One who was beginning to make it really, really hard for me to hate.

  My own face lit up at the sight. I felt my cheeks tense with my answering grin—one just as big, just as wide, just as unexpected.

  And then Aaron started laughing. His head tilted back, and his shoulders shook with laughter. And he was doing it on a stage, in front of all these people and in front of me, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Neither did I, apparently. Because in that moment, the only thing I could focus on, think of, care about was Aaron’s unexpected and glorious smile and laughter. So much that my fingers itched to pull out my phone and snap a photo so I had proof that this had happened. So I could revisit the moment—in which Aaron Blackford, someone who had the power to irritate me with nothing but a word, had fucking lit up the place with a smile he had kept locked up from me ever since I met him—whenever I wanted.

  And how messed up was that? Or furthermore, how messed up was it that I didn’t even care about it being messed up in the first place?

  Before I could recover from it—the effect of something as mundane as a smile, but that was so rare in the man my eyes couldn’t stop looking at—he was striding toward the center of the stage.

  Angela’s voice left the speakers. “Lovely. I’m sure Patrick and his lucky bidder, the lady with the blue fan, will enjoy whatever he has prepared.”

  Too caught up in my fake date who knew how to really smile, I hadn’t noticed someone bidding for Patrick.

  “And last but not least, we have Aaron Blackford. Ladies, gentlemen, let’s start at fifteen hundred and remember—” Angela’s eyes widened, and then she chuckled. “Oh, I guess I don’t need to remind you to please place your bids on our last bachelor tonight if you want to contribute to the cause.”

  Looking around, I found the reason why. More than ten different people had their arms already in the air.

  “I love seeing your involvement,” Angela continued with a knowing smirk. “Fifteen hundred for the lady in red.”

  Turning, I located this involved with the cause lady in red. She was in the first row of people, and she looked about twenty years older than me, give or take. And while I didn’t want to be judgmental or superficial, only by looking at her, I could imagine how generous her donation would be.

  My gaze shot back to the stage, clashing against Aaron’s. That grin had been wiped off, his features now hard and empty. I felt a pang of disappointment I had no time to inspect.

  I had one job tonight, and I was failing at it. For the second time.

  Readying myself, I released a breath. I couldn’t let myself be distracted by something as wonderfully shocking yet pointless as Aaron’s ability to smile or laugh.

  “Seventeen hundred?” Angela announced, and I gestured with my hand to place my bid. Too late. “For the lady in red.”

  Lady in Red had beaten me—and around another five or six hands—to it again.

  A quick look at Aaron’s tense shoulders told me he felt as unhappy about it as I was.

  I squared back my shoulders, focusing on Angela and her next words.

  “Wonderful,” she said into the microphone. “Let’s raise this up, ladies and gentlemen. Mr. B
lackford is after all in high demand. How about nineteen hun—”

  My hand shot up in the air, keeping an eye on Lady in Red, whose bid had been faster than mine. Again.

  Angela chuckled and pointed at Lady in Red again, acknowledging her bid.

  To my shock and surprise, Lady in Red turned in my direction with a smug smile on her face.

  My eyes narrowed. Oh, hell no. This wasn’t about charity. This had just gotten personal.

  Angela announced the next amount, and I launched my hand in the air with impressive speed, so much that I almost pulled a muscle, but Angela’s next words made up for possible injuries.

  “For the lovely lady in midnight blue.” Angela smiled from behind the stand.

  I returned it, feeling a weird burn in the pit of my stomach, matching the one on my shoulder.

  Next bid was called, and it was mine again.

  Ha! Suck that, Lady in Red.

  As if she had heard me, her head whirled around. Her eyes narrowed to very thin slits, and her lips pursed. The woman whipped her blonde hair back and dismissed me.

  I knew in that moment that I had been right to assume this was personal. This lady was after Aaron. And I wasn’t going to let her get my Aaron—

  Not mine, I corrected myself. Just Aaron.

  I wasn’t going to let her get Aaron.

  The call for the next bid came, and before Angela’s words were out, it was already mine. Lady in Red sent me a look that could have frozen the sun on a heated New York summer day, and I was tempted to stick my tongue out, but after reminding myself that would be about a hundred ways of inappropriate, I limited myself to smirking.

  Lady in Red and I battled for about five or six more rounds. Each of them becoming brisker, our arms flashing up faster, the looks we sent each other growing icier. My breath quickened, and the skin of my face felt like I had just sprinted across Central Park like I was chasing the freaking ice cream truck. But so far, it was worth it because Aaron remained mine.

  Not mine. Just … whatever.