The Spanish Love Deception

Chapter 80

A couple of seconds too late, my fingers worked on my own seat belt with the purpose of me going with him.

“Don’t,” he ordered as he threw his door open. “Stay in the car. I’ll bring them.”

“You don’t have to mother me or buy me dinner, Aaron,” I complained, not wanting him to feel like he had to feed me

or something. “You have done enough already.”

“I know I don’t have to,” he said, slipping out of the car. Leaning down, his head peeked inside. “I planned on coming

here tonight either way. You just happened to be in the car,” he explained as if he knew I needed to hear it. He wasn’t

wrong. “And you should eat something. It’ll be a few minutes.”

Giving up, I sighed. “Okay.” Fumbling with my fingers on my lap as he leaned away from the car, I called for him again.

He stopped. “Make it four then,” I requested with a small voice. Farewell, stupid non-diet. “Please.”

Aaron looked at me in silence for a long moment. So long that I wondered if I shouldn’t have ordered an extra taco.

When he finally spoke, he did so quietly, “Try not to fall asleep again, okay? I can’t promise there will be any food left

when, or if, I ever manage to wake you up.”

My eyes narrowed. “You’d better not ever do that, Blackford,” I said under my breath a second after he smashed the

car door closed and crossed the street to the Mexican food truck.

Not more than thirty minutes later, I held in my hands a warm takeout container that smelled absolutely amazing as I

shut my apartment door behind me. Five tacos—Aaron had gotten me five and not four, like I had told him. With a side

of rice with serrano peppers too. And he hadn’t let me pay for any of it.

“I got you,” he had said.

After that, he proceeded to save his number in my phone and asked me to send him my flight details the moment I got

home. Then, he’d made me promise I’d eat and go to sleep. As if that wasn’t exactly what I had been dying to do.

So, without giving in to the panic that I’d surely wake up tomorrow in, I did exactly as he had said.

He. Aaron Blackford. My so

on-to-be boss and even-sooner-to-be fake date to my sister’s wedding.

Because just like he had said, he really did get me.

Chapter Twelve

Hours left to board the flight to wedding-doom: twenty-four.

Level of anxiety: reaching emergency status.

Contingency plan: triple-chocolate brownie. A truckload of it.

If yesterday had told me anything, it was that I had been a total idiot, cutting on some of the things that made me feel

happy. Or at the very least, a little less bad. I knew that stuffing my mouth with chocolate was a far stretch from

sending my so-called diet down the drain. But whatever. I was a woman of extremes.

And that was exactly what had brought me to Madison Avenue. More specifically, to the only place in New York City

that held the power to appease the raging beast that was my anxiety right now.

“Do you want your order to go, Lina?” Sally asked from the other side of the counter. “How is Rosie, by the way? Is

she not joining you?”

“I wish she were, but I’m flying solo today.”

Last night, I had been on the phone with Rosie for about two hours. Telling her what I was about to embark on hadn’t

been easy, and she might have squealed—unnecessarily—and bugged me with more of that stuff about heated looks

between Aaron and me she had clearly been imagining, but it was good, having my best friend back on my team.

Even if that was Team Deception. Having her waiting in New York when I came back from my trip to wedding-doom

with an understanding smile and the pint of ice cream I’d definitely need would mean the world.

“And no, thanks. I’ll have my coffee and brownie here.” I paused, reconsidering that. “Brownies—make it two, please,”

I told Sally as I followed her with my gaze from the counter to the espresso machine. “I can indulge. I have the whole NôvelDrama.Org is the owner.

day to lounge and relax. I took the day off work.”

She methodically weighed the coffee beans. “Oh, you must have really missed me if you are sticking around for so

long,” she commented as she smiled at me over her shoulder. “Not that I’d blame you. Who wouldn’t miss me, right?”

I chuckled. “Of course I missed you. You are my favorite barista in the whole world.” My eyes kept tracking all her

movements; I was already salivating.

“Oh. Now, you are saying that only because I have the goods, but keep going, please.”

I was ready to admit that and perhaps ask her to marry me, too, if that meant an endless supply of free coffee for the

rest of my life. Then, I saw her gaze move somewhere behind me as she pressed the buttons that made the

caffeinated magic happen.

An appreciative gleam appeared in Sally’s eyes.

“Good morning,” she told whoever was behind me. Then, she gave me a mischievous glance before focusing on her

new customer again. “Same as always? Double espresso, no sugar?” She paused, and I felt the newcomer right

behind me.

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