The-Spanish-Love-Deception-www.indianpdf

“Okay,” I pushed out. “You have been warned—twice. Now, I guess you
are really stuck with this. We are stuck with this, you and I.”
“I wasn’t the one calling it off, Catalina.” He was right; I could give him
as much. And then he said, “You were already stuck with me.”
I averted my eyes, not wanting to expose how that made me feel.
“Whatever you say, Blackford. I just hope we don’t screw this up.”
“We won’t,” he declared firmly. “Or are you forgetting that when I put
my mind to something, I never fail?”
I blinked, a little terrified of that last declaration. Oh hell, it would take a
certain level of confidence, perhaps even madness, to pull this off anyway.
Ignoring how I could almost feel the relief lifting some of the weight off
my shoulders, I finally let my gaze roam outside the car.
“This is not my street.” I did not recognize the area where we were
parked. “Where are we?”
“Picking up dinner,” he said, pointing out the window at a food truck
covered in a colorful pattern that intertwined luchador masks with floral
motifs. “This place has the best fish tacos in the city.”
My stomach grumbled at the thought of fish tacos. Any tacos would
obtain that reaction, frankly. But fish tacos? They were my guilty pleasure.
“Fish tacos?”
His dark eyebrows knit together. And I was so hungry that I could have
kissed that frown. “You like them,” he stated rather than asked.
I did. “I actually love them.”
Aaron nodded as if he wanted to tell me, See? “You might have gushed
over them to Héctor a couple hundred times,” Aaron commented casually. To
which I blinked. A couple million times rather than a hundred. “How many
will you take? My usual order is three.”
His usual order?
“Three sounds good,” I confirmed rather absently while my mind
wandered away, picturing Aaron coming here as a regular. Ordering his three
tacos. Sauce dripping off his otherwise spotless fingers. Perhaps some out of
the corner of his otherwise unamused mouth.
Stop it, Lina, I scolded myself. Tacos are not sexy. They are messy and
sticky.
“I’ll be right back,” he said as he unfastened his seat belt.
A couple of seconds too late, my fingers worked on my own seat belt
with the purpose of me going with him.