My mom shifted from the entrance of the cramped bedroom, assessing the situation. “Ay, cariño, your father is right. No sé …” She hesitated, looking for the words. “Este hombre es tan alto y … grande.” Her gaze landed on Aaron, traveling from his head to his feet and back up again, while she shook her head with a mix of awe and skepticism.
I thought I had seen that start of a smirk on Aaron’s lips inching higher, which earned him a questioning look from me.
“I know what grande means.” That little bend of his lips was there until he turned to my mother, squaring his expression. “I appreciate your concern, Cristina. But we will be perfectly fine, sleeping here. Muchas gracias por todo de nuevo.”
Together with my mother’s, my jaw almost dropped to the floor for the second time today. The first time had been earlier in the airport, where I had first learned that Aaron did speak enough Spanish to introduce himself to my parents in my mother tongue. With barely an accent.
Quickly after, and while my jaw stayed right where it was, the grin that was reserved for a very limited number of people came alive in Mamá’s face.
Then, I watched her release a breath, half-wonder and half-resignation. As if she was fine to accept Aaron’s statement without putting up any kind of fight as long as he kept talking in Spanish. Which was something she reserved for very few too.
My very lucky and very much fake boyfriend gifted her with a polite smile.
“Catalina doesn’t take that much space anyway,” Aaron suddenly said. “We will find a way to snuggle in. Right, bollito?”
My head swirled in his direction. “Yes,” I gritted out. “We will snuggle right in.”
Promising myself he’d pay for that later, I looked at my dad in horror. Much to my dismay, I found him grinning. My mom, on the other hand, just nodded, her eyes bouncing from Aaron to me, assessing our difference in size and height.
Which, thankfully, wouldn’t be a problem. The convenient apartment that my parents rented during the high season to vacationers had two bedrooms. Just like everything about the flat, the rooms were small and functional with only what was strictly necessary. But that meant that we, Aaron and I, wouldn’t be doing any snuggling. We were not even going to be sharing a room.
Thank the heavens.
Which reminded me, it was time for my parents to leave.
“Okay, you two. Thank you, but this is enough of a welcome,” I said, walking up to them and pushing them lightly toward the door. “We have suitcases to unpack and a bachelor-slash-bachelorette party to get ready for.”
“Vale, vale,” my mom said as she grabbed my dad’s arm. “You see, Javier? They want to be alone.” Her eyebrows did a little wiggle. “Ya sabes.”
My dad muttered something unintelligible, showing that he had no interest in finding out why.
So, I ignored my mother’s innuendo, and after wrapping my parents in a big hug, I shooed them out the door. In the meantime, Aaron politely thanked them again—in Spanish, for my mom’s benefit—and remained in the corner, where he had been standing.
With my parents finally gone, I turned to Aaron and found him placing both of our suitcases on the bed. He unzipped his and started extracting pieces of clothing and toiletries.
“Actually, you don’t need to do that,” I told him, not bothering to open my bags.
Aaron cocked an eyebrow.
“We will sleep in separate rooms,” I explained.
“Oh?” That was the only thing that came from him.
Ignoring that puzzled look he had just shot me, I made my way to the hallway to lead him to what would be his room.
With his very own bed.
Right behind me, Aaron stepped in the space only a few seconds after.
“Ta-da!” I gestured with my arms. “Here’s your room. Your dresser. Your bathroom is out in the hall though. And, yeah, that will be your bed.”
I pointed at the twin bed as I took in its ridiculous dimensions. The room was much smaller than I remembered.
Glancing at Aaron, who was right by my side, I found him inspecting the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. Just how my mother had done a few minutes ago, I eyed him up and down.
Yeah. That was not going to work.
“All right,” I said, accepting he would never, ever fit there. “I’ll change rooms with you. Take the other one; it’s bigger. I’ll take the twin.”
“It’s okay, Catalina. I’ll sleep here.”
“No, you won’t. You won’t fit in that tiny bed,” I pointed out the obvious. “Not even diagonally, I think.”
“It’s fine. Go unpack your things. I’ll make it work.”
“You won’t. There’s no way you can sleep here,” I insisted, ignoring the dirty look Aaron sent me over his shoulder.
“I will.”
Stubborn, hardheaded man, I thought.
“You are the only hardheaded one here,” he said.
I narrowed my eyes at the mind reader. “Well, if you want to be my pot, I’d gladly be your kettle.” I pointed at the bed. “Prove it. Show me you fit in there, and I’ll leave you alone.”
Aaron sighed as he uncrossed his arms and brought a hand to his face. “Would you just—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “You know what? This one time, I’m going to humor you. Just to avoid wasting away both our lives, arguing over this until we are rolling on matching wheelchairs.”
He was wrong; matching wheelchairs was something that would never be in my plans where Aaron Blackford was concerned.
In two strides, my fake and very tall boyfriend was right in front of the modest twin.
He won’t fit. I was sure of it. So, I leaned back and waited for him to prove how right I was.
As soon as Aaron climbed onto the tiny piece of furniture, the mattress bounced a little too wildly under his weight. With a loud squeak, he adjusted his body, lying on his back. Changed his position a couple of times as the mattress complained under his weight. Nothing.
He. Did. Not. Fit.
Taking in the clearly larger-than-the-bed man in front of me, feet dangling off of the frame and glaring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but let the grin I had been fighting finally break free.
It wasn’t the fact that I had been right all along. Nope. The satisfied and toothy smile that split my face had everything to do with the grumpy Aaron who was lying diagonally on the tiny twin bed with a scowl that went for miles. The best part was that he had humored me and proven it, just because I’d told him to. Just because we were equally stubborn.
And that … only made me grin wider.
Walking closer, I didn’t turn down the megawatt smile as I looked down at him. “Comfy?”
“Very.”
“I just bet you have never been this comfortable in your life.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine,” Aaron said as he sat up, the springs in the simple and—let’s face it—most likely cheap mattress creaking loudly under his weight. “So you were right,” he continued as he moved to the edge, trying to leave a bed that seemed to be turning into quicksand, swallowing each of his movements. “Now, if you would just—”
Before I could even realize what was happening, the structure of the bed gave in with a big bang, engulfing part of the mattress and Aaron along with it.
A gasp shot out of me as my hands flew to my mouth.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Aaron growled.
“Oh my God, Aaron.” The cackle that left my mouth as I stared at the grumpier-than-ever man sitting in the middle of the box spring catastrophe was probably heard all the way in New York City.
He didn’t look anywhere near okay if the way he glowered was any indication.
But I asked anyway, “Are you okay?” I tried to sober down; I did. But I couldn’t hold in the laughter. So, I laughed.
Then, I laughed louder.
“Yes. All good,” he grunted. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Okay, but just in case …” I stretched my hand to help him out, but both of us froze when a holler came from the entrance door of the apartment. A voice that sent shivers down my spine.
“Hola!” a pitchy shrill called.
Was that …
“Hay alguien en casa?” that voice I realized I knew—and I was related to—called again.
No.
The woman whose red hair I was almost certain was about to make an appearance in about two seconds asked if there was someone at home. As if she hadn’t probably known already.
Charo. My cousin Charo was in the apartment. And judging by the quick clicking of her heels, she’d be in the room in about—
“Ay, pero mira qué bien. Someone is christening the bed.” A giggle that was not adorable and was outright evil instead reached my ears from behind me.
Understanding flashed through my fake boyfriend’s face.
Not caring to wait for my response, my cousin continued babbling, “Look at this mess.” She tsked. “After being single for so long, one would think you were out of practice, Linita.”
I grimaced. Way to put it out there, prima. My eyelids shut on instinct, and I felt a blush climbing up my throat.
“Because, really, how many years have gone by since the whole thing with Daniel exploded? Three? Four? Maybe more.”
Oh sweet Lord, I wanted to disappear. I couldn’t believe Charo had gone straight to that after barely saying hello. And in front of Aaron. I didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to look in his direction for that matter. Couldn’t that busted and mangled bed swallow me up too?
And just like that, my wish was granted.
Aaron tugged off my arm and pulled me right with him, ripping a squeal out of me. Right onto the chaos that used to be a twin bed. My body ended up sprawled half on top of him. Not for long though because before I knew what was really happening, his large and meaty arms flipped me onto his lap. Turning me to face my cousin Charo and causing my body to go as stiff as a broomstick at the change of positions.
Holy shit, I am on Aaron’s lap. Back to front. Ass on … yeah. On his lap.
“I’ll take the blame for all this.” His deep voice came from very freaking close behind me as I slowly recounted all the body parts I felt pressed against my own much softer ones. Thighs, chest, arms, all hard and flushed against my back. Against my ass. Against my own thighs and … I had to stop thinking of body parts. “Hard to resist myself really.” My fake boyfriend’s words entered my ears at the same time I noticed the muscles underneath me flexing. “Right, bollito?”
Oh my God.