The-Spanish-Love-Deception-www.indianpdf

The man who had almost taken me in and treated me as one more of the
Díaz clan looked at me and shook his head. He mouthed, Qué pendejo, which
plucked a weak smile out of me because even if that wasn’t something we
would ever say in Spain, I knew exactly what he meant.
And Héctor was right. What a total asshat Gerald was.
And then there was Aaron. Who hadn’t even bothered to look at me yet.
His long fingers methodically gathered his things, and his even longer legs
pushed the chair back, making it possible for him to straighten to his full
height.
While I glanced at him, still out of sorts by everything that had just gone
down, I watched how his gaze bounced from his hands to me. His eyes,
which I could tell had sobered up and returned to that aloof semblance,
remained on me for a heartbeat and then dismissed me just as quickly.
Just like he always did.
My gaze followed his oddly large and sturdy figure walk to the door and
into the hallway, the hammering in my chest somehow speeding up and
settling down, all at once.
“Let’s go, mija,” Héctor said, now standing and looking down on me. “I
have a bag of chicharrones in my office. Ximena slipped it into my laptop
bag the other day, and I’ve been saving it.” He followed that with a wink.
Standing from my chair, I laughed lightly. Héctor’s little girl was getting
a bear hug from me the next time I saw her.
“You need to raise that girl’s weekly allowance.” I followed him out,
trying my best to return the smile.
Although I couldn’t help but notice that after only a few steps, the corners
of my lips wavered, breaking into something that didn’t quite reach my eyes.