Sol (Love in Translation Book 1)

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Sol (Love in Translation Book 1) Page 10

by Leslie McAdam


  “Hate to break it to you, but from where I come from, pouring tea isn’t how you get a woman pregnant.”

  “No, it isn’t,” she agreed, and now I knew what she was thinking about. Because I was thinking the same thing.

  But I needed to be clear on where we stood.

  “I have to tell you something, Dani.”

  “What?”

  “I want to be with you. In every way.” I reached over and held her hands. “I want to spend all the time I have on this earth with you. I learned in the army that I don’t have much time. We can’t take any second for granted. And I’m not wasting any moment I have with you. I want to lay it all out. Dani, I want to date you.”

  She closed her eyes. Then she opened them, pulled her hands from mine, and put one on my chest, pushing me back. I leaned into her. “Trent, we can’t do this.”

  “What do you mean?” I swallowed.

  “I’m not ready for any relationship.”

  Well, there goes that idea. “Great,” I said sarcastically. “Glad I brought it up.”

  “My last relationship was bad. I swore I wouldn’t do that again. Let myself get too involved. I’m too used to not having to answer to anyone.”

  “If anyone is gonna fight for your freedom, babe, it’s a soldier.”

  She shook her head sadly. “I just can’t.”

  “Well, fuck.” I collapsed into my chair and sipped my tea in silence.

  Her eyes pleaded with me. “I’m so sorry, Trent. I like you, I do. But I’m not in it for the long term. I leave.”

  “Yeah, I get it.” I rubbed my jaw.

  Her hand came over mine, and her earnest eyes caught mine. “No matter what, I’d really like us to be friends.”

  “Fine,” I said heartily, pressing my hands to my temples. “Friends it is.”

  Damn.

  Always just out of reach.

  “It’s not that simple, though. I mean, we’re more than friends. Part of me wants to kick you out of Spain because of what you remind me of. And the other part wants…” She trailed off.

  “Wants what?”

  A grin lifted her pretty lips. “Wants to get to know you better. Four years looks good on you. I remember that time in the pizza parlor…”

  I tilted my head to the side, and hope reared up. “So when I take you back to your apartment, you’d let me kiss you the way I did before I left for boot camp?”

  She nodded. “And maybe more than a kiss. Just for tonight.”

  I leaned in. Better to be blunt than to be misunderstood. “Casual sex. Friends with benefits.”

  Her eyes widened. “Well, if you put it that way.” She shrugged then gave me a huge Dani smile. My God, there was my dream come true. I didn’t have to keep her out of reach any more.

  “Got it.”

  And my heart sunk. Because I wanted more than that. Still, I had to know.

  “Danika.” I lowered my voice. “There’s nothing I want more than to get you naked.”

  A glow of heat spread across her cheeks. “Really?”

  I leaned in. “Did you know that every time you lean over to pour tea, I can see your nipples? You’re not wearing a bra.”

  Her breath intake was sharp.

  My legs parted as I straddled the table between us. “I wanna make you moan so loud that cats would start wailing.”

  “Ohmigod,” she whispered, her tongue darting out to touch her lips. She took a breath. “I like you.” My pulse started racing and my heart leapt up to the decorated ceiling. “I really do. And I’m really fucking turned on by you.”

  I clenched my hands briefly, then released them. “That makes two of us.”

  “You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”

  At some point in my life I learned to let the pretty boy comments pass over me and not stick to my ego. “Not as hot as you.”

  She smiled.

  “No relationship, no strings attached?” I continued.

  “Right.”

  I took a breath and arranged the cups on the tea tray so that they were even. I wasn’t up for casual sex. Not with her, because it’d never be casual to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught two old men playing chess at a tiny table on the left, surrounded by a crowd.

  Her hand reached out and rubbed up my thigh.

  She wanted my body. And maybe the connection to her past.

  Nothing more.

  Not enough.

  Two more pots of tea later, I paid the bill and we left. “I can pay my own way,” she said.

  “I know.” Like I’d let her pay even if we were “friends.”

  She tilted her head to the side and gave me a small smile of thanks. We stepped outside the tea shop to the sound of a band playing in the distance.

  “Let’s go see what’s going on at the plaza.”

  “Sure,” I said. I’d take every moment I could get with her.

  We walked through the streets of Granada at night and ended up at a plaza filled with people. A band played at the far corner.

  “Sevillanas,” she said. Se-vee-yan-as. “A form of flamenco.”

  I blinked. “I can’t dance.”

  She gave me a playful push. “You just need someone to teach you.”

  “No. I can’t dance,” I repeated.

  “Here.” She held a slim arm up to the sky. “You pick the apple.” Then she expertly moved her hand in front of her face. “You take a bite of the apple.” Then she moved her hand down to her waist. “You throw the apple away. And that’s how you dance sevillanas.”

  I reached up and pretended to grab an apple from an imaginary tree. “I feel lame.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “You look good, Trent. Very good.”

  And her eyes lit on mine like she wanted to say more.

  “Profesora!”

  Gustavo, the Latin lover, and his friend Sergio, who was also in our class, walked over, their sleek shirts tucked into neat jeans. “Hello, Profesora Anderson. Hello, James Dean!”

  “Hello, guys.”

  “And now you dance?” asked Gustavo.

  “I don’t dance,” I assured him, then glanced over at Dani. Her sudden withdrawal signaled to me that she was nervous about being seen with me in a public place. I tried to smooth over the situation. “I was out and saw her. I figured I should walk her home.”

  “I don’t need you to walk me home,” she muttered under her breath.

  But this explanation seemed to satisfy Sergio and Gustavo because they didn’t say anything else. Gustavo leaned toward us so he could be heard over the music. “You will be able to dance before you leave Spain. Like this.”

  With a very dignified pose, he did the same flamenco-type move that Dani did, only he clicked his heels to the rhythm of the band. Sergio clapped and then joined him. These Spaniards could dance without feeling like their manhood was threatened.

  Me?

  Nope. No way.

  After we watched them for a few minutes, Dani clapped and cheered. They gave us a couple of eager smiles, and then said, “Your turn, amigo.”

  I shook my head.

  “Try it,” said Gustavo, but thankfully a group came up to Sergio and Gustavo—their friends—and with apologies, they said goodbye.

  I gazed down at her. “I’ll still walk you home.”

  Dani spun to me. “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  There was no way in hell I’d let her walk herself home. After spending time in the tea shop and then wandering around Granada, now it was dark. It had to be ten o’clock or later.

  “It’s not safe for women to walk in the dark by themselves. Anything could happen to you.”

  Her lips pressed together in a slight grimace, and she pulled at her ear. “I’ll forgive that statement, because you’re new. But Spain is one of the safest countries on the planet. Safer than the United States. You’ll see. Watch late at night. Grandmothers are out with little kids at eleven o’clock at night. Europe at night isn’t scary. There’s no per
sonal violence. The only thing you have to worry about are pickpockets. It’s perfectly fine to be a woman walking all alone. I’ve done it all over the world, and I feel the safest here.”

  I didn’t know if I’d ever met a more delusional female. I stood in front of her, chest to chest. “No, it isn’t safe.”

  Her head shook softly. “I’m not gonna argue about it with you.”

  I reached for her hand, but she pulled it back. “Spain has had terrorist attacks recently.”

  “It had political ones for years and years. None of this is new.”

  “Anything can happen, Danika.”

  She tapped her index finger to her lip. “I’ve been traveling by myself for years now. I know perfectly well how to take care of myself.”

  “Don’t you get scared with all of that travel?”

  “I get scared staying still.” With a huff, she turned on her heel.

  I followed her. We got closer and closer to her place. Her hand got closer and closer to mine. I could just reach out and hold it. “I’d still feel better if I could walk you home.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I know.”

  “I mean, I could object to this. Strongly.”

  “But you won’t.”

  She pulled in a breath, then slowly released it. “No. I won’t.” And I got a smile from her that told me she wasn’t really mad.

  When we got to her house, she peered down at her feet, then glanced around, finally turning to gaze up at me. “Can I tell you something?”

  I leaned against her door and smiled at her while she fumbled for her keys. “Sure.”

  Biting her bottom lip as she inserted the key, she said, “I’m glad we hung out. I want to do it again.”

  “Me too.”

  “And even though you didn’t need to walk me home, well, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Her brows pulled in, and she ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t want this night to end.”

  “Me neither.”

  Those huge eyes stared at her feet then lifted up to mine. And she twirled her hair around her finger. With a whisper, she asked, “Is that offer of casual sex still on the table?”

  “No,” I said firmly. And gazed down while she blew her cheeks out, then released the air, surprised.

  11

  Dani -- Alhambra

  My face burned, and I turned away. “Oohhkay,” I said quietly, embarrassed and rejected. I couldn’t believe Trent said no when I invited him upstairs. After all of those rules I’d processed in my head, all the reasons why I shouldn’t get together with him—once I was willing to break those and ask, he said no.

  And I thought that’s what we talked about in the tetería. I was so confused.

  He reached over and took my hand, clenched it, and let it go. When he spoke, he did it quietly and fervently. “Danika Anderson. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I’ve wanted you for so long. I’m sure you’ve figured that out.”

  I shrugged, attempting nonchalance. But yeah, I had.

  “There’s nothing I want more than to get you naked.” His eyes closed. “It would be a fantasy. But I’m not gonna do it as your fuck boy. You want a body, any warm body just for tonight, so you can escape and check that off your list of experiences, then move on. I’m not willing to do that for you because I want more than just your body.”

  “It would mean more than that.” I grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled it. He gently held my wrist and gazed at me.

  Opening my mouth to say something more, he cut me off and pulled my hand to his chest. “If you ever want me for a relationship, though, a real one, if you ever let me in, I’ll tear your clothes off so fast you’d wonder why you even bothered wearing them.”

  I took a sharp intake of breath.

  Coupled with those intense eyes, that was a promise I’d want to see fulfilled.

  “No means not tonight, sweetheart. It’s up to you to decide if and when.”

  The only way I could respond to that was to nod mutely.

  He dropped my hand and continued, “But I also said that I’d give you anything. Anything you needed. And if that’s what you need right now, I’ll do it. I’m telling you, it wouldn’t be a sacrifice. But I wanted you to know where I stood on it. That I rather it mean something to you, too.”

  I couldn’t think of anything to say. So I just stared at my shoes, anywhere but his ardent eyes.

  Trent gathered me in his arms and hugged me so tight I didn’t know if I could make it up the stairs by myself afterward. He kissed the top of my head and, once I stepped inside, he strode down the street into the summer night.

  When I got to my place, I sat outside on my balcony, my feet up on the railing, hoping he’d change his mind and come loping back up my street. I fingered my cell phone, thinking I’d text Lulu. But I thought she’d come down on me for wanting to get together with Trent.

  Maybe that was another reason why I shouldn’t.

  That man.

  He made me feel so wanted. I hadn’t felt that way around anyone in so long. I ran my hands up and down my arms. While the night was balmy, goosebumps popped on my skin as I thought about Trent and how honorable he was.

  And how saying no to me made him all the more desirable.

  Was he right? Did I just want him for his body?

  And holy hell, he wanted me and I wanted him. He said it. So was that part of the discipline of the army? The ability to hold back, to say no, when you really burned to say yes?

  It made me want him more, even though I couldn’t do what he wanted.

  For one thing, his philosophy differed from mine.

  Although…

  My ex-boyfriend, Brian, was as “spiritual” as they come. Showed you couldn’t judge people by their appearance. Beneath that dreadlocked hair in a man bun was a control freak who dictated which country we went to next, checked my emails and texts, and was in charge of my passport. So much for live and let live. His micromanagement choked me, questioning everything I did.

  That was why I turned off all social media. That way no one could stalk me. I just wanted to be left alone, and I swore I’d never date anyone as controlling as him.

  This was one reason, of course, why I was wary of Trent. He had controlling tendencies, too, I could tell. Hello, he traveled halfway across the world just to find me.

  But knowing that it was to deliver Degan’s last words to me? That made it different. Sweeter.

  But I still couldn’t read the letter.

  I’d admit that I was flattered that Trent liked me. I guess part of being a teacher was to have people look up to you all the time, and they developed little crushes. My usual response was to ignore them. I’d be gone to the next city before they could even try to look me up online.

  Trent, though. He wasn’t just a student. The fierceness in his eyes told me this wasn’t a puppy dog crush.

  My body? I’d give him. I’d wanted him to explore it ever since that time so many years ago.

  But he wanted more. The real deal.

  Did I want that, too?

  I went upstairs, turned off the lights and lit a candle, spotlighting a picture of my family. After my dad died, I’d had it framed and kept it with me along with a card he’d sent taped to the back. This was how I honored his memory.

  In the photo, my mom, blond, petite, and pretty, smiled broadly. This was before we learned her diagnosis. My dad stood next to her, his arm around her shoulder, proud and happy. And Degan and I posed in front, arm in arm, mugging at the camera.

  God, I missed them all.

  After my mother died, it became more and more my responsibility to make sure that Degan had clothes and food. While my dad was around, he was twenty years older than my mom, and he struggled to keep up with Degan’s energy. They both seemed lost without my mom. I came home from high school every day and made sure they had enough supplies in the pantry and the refrigerator. I did their lau
ndry. I cleaned the house. I basically became the mom.

  Once Degan entered the military, I was free.

  No wonder I ran so much.

  But thinking of Degan made me think of bad memories. After I had pizza with him and Trent before they left for boot camp, Degan and I went back home. With the house up for sale, I’d been cleaning it out. Getting rid of everything for the estate sale.

  We fought before he left.

  I didn’t remember what started it. Maybe him getting upset about a box of photographs that had accidentally gotten tossed. No matter, the fight turned from, “You’re so selfish” to, “I hope I never see you as long as I live.”

  “If you really do this, if you go in the army,” I’d snarled, “I hope you never come back. We don’t need any fighters. We need peace.”

  “I want peace—” Degan had started to say, but I interrupted him.

  “As far as I’m concerned, you’re gone. You’re joining something I don’t believe in.”

  He shook his head. “You’re crazy, Dani.”

  “I hate the military with a passion. If you’re part of it, you’re part of the problem.”

  “Is that really what you think? That I’m doing this to cause problems?”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at the ceiling, his face red, then he looked at me. “You’re wrong. I’m doing this because it’s my life, and I can do what I want. And I’m doing this because it’s something I believe in. Because I’m called to it.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I pointed my finger at him. “If you go, you might as well be dead to me.”

  I hated that we never resolved that. He left the next day. While we still emailed after that, our messages were distant. Almost formal. I never saw him on leave because of my travel.

  With the space of time, though, I wondered if Degan went in the army because he didn’t want me to have him as my responsibility anymore. That idea made my stomach hurt.

  I wandered into the kitchen to get a glass of water. As I stood, downing my drink, this antsy, uncomfortable sensation came over me yet again. I did the only thing I knew to do to calm me. I set down my glass and walked to the center of the room. With a flick, I unfurled my mat onto the terracotta floor.

 

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