The-Spanish-Love-Deception-www.indianpdf

don’t know,” I said, kicking that one out of my head. “I guess one in Spanish
makes sense. Bollito? Cuchi cuchi? Pocholito?”
“Bollito?”
“It’s little bun.” I smiled. “Like those bread buns that are spongey and
shiny and so cute that—"
“Okay, no.” He frowned. “I think it’s better if we stick to our names,” he
said, taking both drinks from the attendant who had just reappeared and
placing mine in front of me. “I don’t think I can trust you to pick one in
Spanish without knowing what it means.”
“I’m very trustworthy—you should know that by now.” I brought a finger
to my chin, tapping it a few times. “How about conejito? That’s little bunny.”
With a long sigh, Aaron let his massive body fall deeper into the seat.
“You are right; you are not a bunny.” I paused. “Osito?” I made a show of
looking him up and down, as if I were testing the name on him. “Yeah, that
one is way more fitting. You are more of a bear.”
What was very close to a groan got stuck in Aaron’s throat. He lifted his
glass to his lips and almost downed half of it. “Just drink and try to get some
sleep, Catalina.”
“Okay.” I turned away, snuggling in my seat and taking a sip of my drink.
“If you insist, osito.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Aaron finishing up the rest of his gin
and tonic.
Not that I blamed him. We were definitely in need of some liquid courage
if we wanted to survive this.