The Spanish Love Deception

I wasn’t a sports doofus, but I was European. I needed to be sure we were talking about the same sport.

“Yes, not soccer. The one with the melon.” He nodded. “I played back home in Seattle, where I went to college.”

“Seattle,” I repeated, chewing on this new piece of information he had given me. More. I wanted just a little more. “That’s Washington up north, right? I know because of Twilight. Forks is supposed to be a few hours away.” I kind of regretted mentioning Twilight, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and besides the few places I had visited, my knowledge on American geography was based on books and movies.

“That’s the one,” he said, his shoulde

rs relaxing down. Just an inch. Which in Aaron’s language meant green light for more questions.

“So, this thing we are going to tonight, does it have to do with your football days then?”

Aaron nodded. “I’m still invited to some events. Because I played, but mostly because of my family’s involvement in the NCAA,” he explained, driving us along one of the wide avenues in Manhattan. “Once a year, a charity event for an association of animal welfare is hosted here in New York, and a number of personalities attend.”

“Are you one of those personalities?” I’d have to Google what the NCAA was later, but I had a feeling there was something he wasn’t telling me. “Oh my God, Aaron Blackford, are you telling me you come from, like, a long line of football royals?”

Aaron’s brows knit. “Catalina.”

In pure Aaron fashion, that was all the answer I got.

“Will your family be there tonight then?”

“No,” he said, his profile hardening for a heartbeat and confirming my suspicions.

I guessed I’d have to Google that too.

“Tonight’s event is for raising money that will eventually go to shelter, rehabilitate, and find homes for rescued animals in New York. I attend whenever I’m able to. It’s good to see a few people I’ve known for most of my life, and it’s for a cause I care about.”

I immediately forgot about whatever it was that he wasn’t telling me about his family. Aaron cared about the welfare of animals? About rescuing them and finding them new homes?

Right on cue, something fuzzy and warm tingled in my chest. And the feeling got only worse when I found myself picturing Aaron holding a bunch of cute puppies that he cared about and raised money for in his bulky arms. As he knelt on a field. In his football gear. Tight pants. Shoulders that went for miles. Dirt smudged on his cheeks.

That warmth turned a little thicker and harder to ignore.

“That’s … great,” I said, trying to kick those images out of my head. “Really nice of you.”

Aaron’s gaze turned to me, and one of his eyebrows went up. He was probably weirded out by how hard I was blushing.

Why can’t I stop blushing?

“Do you always bring a fake date to this event?” I blurted out without thinking.

“No.” Aaron’s lips pressed in a flat line. “I’ve always attended alone. This is the first time I’m bringing a date.”

A date.

A date?

My eyebrows wrinkled. A fake date, not a date.

I was about to correct him, but he spoke first, “We are almost there.”

I remained in silence as I processed everything I had just learned. This new depth of Aaron I had discovered. A little peek through that crack he had revealed to me. And all those dangerous mental images I had acquired, which, much to my dismay, would stick with me for a long time. That was something that needed some processing too.

“Wait,” I let out as he made a turn to the right. “You didn’t tell me what’s being auctioned. Or why I’m here.”

The vehicle came to a slow stop in front of one of the numerous skyscrapers on Park Avenue. Looking over, I spotted a parking valet waiting on the sidewalk.

Eyes wide, I turned to Aaron. A freaking valet? Shit.