The-Spanish-Love-Deception-www.indianpdf

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - O N E
Surprisingly, everything was going smoothly. So far, no awkward or
embarrassing moments had made me regret all my life choices, and
no one had dropped any inappropriate questions that made me want
to open a hole in the ground and plunge myself in.
With a little luck, I would even be able to get through this one dinner,
unscathed. And I really thought I would.
I hoped this sense of contentment humming satisfactorily under my skin
wasn’t a by-product of the food I had inhaled. Because that was what a
Spanish feast could do to you. It could cloud your judgment.
We were all sitting around a round table on the terrace of a restaurant that
faced the sea. The sun was setting on the horizon, about to reach the thin line
where the ocean and the sky met, and the only sound filling the air around us
besides the low chatter was the crashing of the waves against the rocks lining
the coast.
To put it in a simple way, it was perfect.
The soft touch of a hand on my arm sent a handful of shivers rolling
down my spine.
“Cold?” a deep voice I had come to anticipate in ways that made my
breath hitch asked close to my ear.
Shaking my head, I faced him. Only a few inches separated us. Our lips.
“No, I’m fine.” I wasn’t fine. I had learned that when Aaron came this
close, I was everything but fine. “Just full. I might have overdone it.”
“No place for dessert?”
My eyebrows bunched at the audacity. “Don’t be ridiculous, osito. I
always have space for dessert. Always.”