The Spanish Love Deception

I leaned back, expecting to find him rolling his eyes or scoffing. Anything that would indicate I had succeeded and this was still us—the Aaron and Lina I was comfortable with. Instead, I was welcomed by blue eyes that were full of … something that churned and made me uneasy.

He hid it with a blink. “Okay.” That was the only answer he gave me.

No snarky comeback. No scolding comment about how unfunny and inappropriate it would be to spend his money on a boat. No appalled glance after mentioning Elvis’s knickers.

Nothing, except okay.

Okay then.

“All right, let’s go,” TJ said, encouraging Aaron to take a step away from me. “I’ll see you later, Lina.” He winked.

“Yeah,” I mumbled and then shook my head and tried to look like I wasn’t as confused as I felt. “Woo those flocks of bidders, guys!” I cheered with my fist in the air.

TJ openly laughed, and Aaron remained looking at me with something I hoped was not regret after asking me to do this whole fake date thing for him.

Both men proceeded to turn and then walked away side by side, the sight too enticing for me not to follow them with my gaze. So, I stood there and watched them. I saw how TJ leaned into my fake date’s side and said something probably just for him. Aaron’s head never turned, his step never ceased; his only reaction was a shake of his raven head. Then, he shoved TJ away with a force I was sure would have sent anybody else flying.

Another one of TJ’s cackles resonated in the air.

And I found myself grinning as I watched them stride off. Thinking about how seeing Aaron around all these people who belonged to a life I hadn’t had the slightest clue existed—one that he had kept well guarded, just like he did everything else—was as outlandish as it was fascinating.

My hand rose of its own accord, catching me by surprise.

“Fifteen hundred for the lady in the beautiful midnight-blue gown,” Angela—who had been in charge of conducting the auction for the last hour—called from behind the microphone stand with a rather shocked smile.

My throat dried up, making it impossible for me to swallow my own audacity.

I was a despicable human being because I had just bid a dizzying amount of money on someone. A man. A bachelor no less.

One that wasn’t Aaron.

The seemingly sweet and old man I had just bid on gave an enthusiastic cheer from the center of the stage, relief taking over his wrinkled face. He bowed in my direction.

As much as I felt horrible and guilty and honestly a little terrified, I couldn’t help but smile at the man in return.

Willing my eyes to stay put—and not to jump to Aaron, who was a few feet to the left of the stage, waiting for his turn to be auctioned—I tried to shake off the deserved sense of guilt that had settled between my shoulders.

Chill. I needed to chill. Someone else would bid higher. The old man just needed a little push to get this going.

And that was exactly what I had done. Or what I had found myself doing after the five minutes of awkward and heartbreaking silence following that sweet-looking man stepping on the stage. I had recognized that smile immediately. It had been the same playing on TJ’s lips.

“Ladies and gentlemen, sixteen hundred for Patrick James.” Angela’s voice came through the speakers.

No hands rose in the air. Not even one.

Dammit.

Who I had assumed was TJ’s pops, Patrick, stood on the stage with his gray hair, suspenders, and back a little curved with age, looking completely out of place when compared with every other man who had been up for grabs—or bids, whatever—that night. He smiled, satisfied enough with just being there. With just having one bidder, which happened to be me. And that was bad, bad, bad. Because I was here to bid on Aaron. Not for a man that, according to Angela’s introduction, was a widower who was looking for a second chance not in love, but in living life.

Jesus, I’d take him on a date if I had to. I hadn’t been able to stand there and do nothing when a man who reminded me so much of my passed abuelo for some damn reason, a man I kne

w was TJ’s pops, waited for someone, for anybody, to bid on him. This was a fundraiser, for Christ’s sake. Weren’t people supposed to be donating their money?

That was what I had done. Only perhaps I had technically bid with money that wasn’t mine.

I grimaced.

Don’t look at Aaron, Lina. Don’t.