The Spanish Love Deception Elena Armas (free ebook reader for ipad .TXT) 📖

Aaron Blackford big boy, I headed for the kitchen area of my studio and opened the fridge. The cool air graced my skin, making me feel only slightly better. I stared into it for a full minute, and when I finally turned, I did with a fake smile.

Aaron Blackford—and his tuxedo—leaned against the narrow island that delimited my kitchen and living room spaces. His blue gaze was somewhere above my knees. Still studying my attire, which he seemed to find so outrageously intriguing.

It bothered me, I realized. The way he looked at it made me feel inadequate even though I was at home and he was the intruder who had shown up earlier than we had agreed. It was stupid, but it reminded me of how small he had made me feel all those months ago when I overheard him talking to Jeff. Or how he had almost thrown that mug I had gotten him as a welcome gift at my face. Or how all the remarks and jabs that came after that had never stopped bothering me.

Rosie had been right; I was incapable of letting it go. I was still holding my grudge like my life depended on it. Like my grudge was a door floating on the ocean and I was out of life jackets.

“It seems rather inappropriate for summer.” Aaron nodded at my robe.

He wasn’t wrong. I was boiling up, but I had needed the comfort.

I imitated him and leaned on the kitchen counter behind me. “Can I offer you something to drink, Anna Wintour? Or would you like to point out any other way in which my robe is outrageous instead?”

I watched his lips twitch, fighting a smile. Me, on the other hand, I found none of this remotely funny.

“How about water?” He did not move a single muscle besides the corners of his lips, which were still battling against that smile.

“You know”—I retrieved a water bottle and placed it beside him. Then, I grabbed another one for myself—“you could have just emailed me back. You didn’t need to show up here this early.”

“I know.” Of course he did. “I did you a favor, coming here ahead of time.”

“A favor?” My eyes narrowed to thin slits. “Doing me a favor would have included showing up with your pockets filled with churros.”

“I’ll try my best to remember that,” he said, sounding like he meant it. And just as I was opening my mouth to ask him what that was supposed to mean, he continued, “Why didn’t you call me instead of sending that … intricate email? It would have saved us both some time, Miss Martín.” That last part he added with a scowl.

Ha, I knew that Mr. Blackford would strike a nerve.

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t ask you to come here. So, that’s on you.” I opened the lid of my bottle and took a gulp of water. “And secondly, how would I have called you if I don’t have your number, smart-ass?”

I looked at him over the bottle.

Aaron’s dark brows knit. “You should have it. On our last division’s team-building event, we passed along all our private phone numbers. I have yours. I have everyone’s.”

I slowly lowered the bottle and screwed the lid on. “Well, I don’t have yours.” I had refused to save Aaron’s number because, again, I was a grudge-holder. Something that didn’t make me feel all that great right now, but that didn’t change the truth. “Why would I have needed it anyway?”

I watched him take in my words for a moment, and then he shook his head lightly. Straightening, he leaned away from the kitchen island.

“What was so important then?” He got us back on track. “What details do you need disclosed with so much urgency?”

“I can’t pick an outfit if I don’t know where we are going, Blackford,” I pointed out with a shrug. “It’s like Dressing Up for Dummies 101.”

“But I told you.” One of his eyebrows rose. “A social commitment.”

“That’s what you said.” I placed the bottle on the counter and then brought my hands together. “And it wasn’t enough information. I need a few more details.”

“An evening gown,” the hardheaded, blue-eyed man answered. “That should have been enough information to pick a dress.”

Scoffing, I brought a hand to my fluffy pink chest and clutched my metaphoric pearls. “Enough information?” I repeated very slowly.

A nod. “Yes.”

I sneered, not believing my eyes. He genuinely thought he was right about this. “One- and two-worded responses are not enough information, Aaron.”

Especially after seeing that he looked ready to jump into an Upper East Side gala where people air-kissed each other and talked about their vacations in the Hamptons. I certainly didn’t have anything like that in my wardrobe.

“What’s so hard to understand about the words evening and gown?” His hand absently went to the sleeve of his tux jacket. “They are gowns for evening events. Dresses.”

I blinked.

“Are you really explaining that to me?” I started feeling a new wave of frustration rush to my head. “You are just …” I continued, fisting my hands, edging very close to really throwing something at him. “Ugh.”

Aaron’s hands went to his pants pockets as he eyed me, looking all … handsome and classy in that goddamn tux.

Something must have bubbled all the way to my face because the way he looked at me changed.

“It’s a charity event. A fundraiser that takes place every year,” he explained.

My lips parted at that crucial piece of information.

“We will have to drive into Manhattan—Park Avenue.”

No, no, no, no. That sounded fancy.

“It’s a black-tie thing, so you’ll need to dress up. A formal evening gown.” His gaze went up and down my body with doubt, finally settling back on my face. “Just like I said.”

“Aaron,” I gritted out through my teeth. “Mierda. Joder.” The Spanish bad words rolled off my tongue. “A fundraiser? A charity event? That is so … upper classy.” I shook my head, my hair almost coming off my knot. “No, it sounds upper I