by Elena Armas
Aaron’s lips pursed.
“Exactly. Good thing my sister intercepted her before she got to them. They are tough guys but it would have been a carnage either way.” I shook my head. “You are tough too, but I need you in one piece, okay?” I stopped myself, realizing what I had said. “We are expected to dance at the wedding.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Aaron said from my side. “I can survive your cousin. I could put us both into safety too. Just say the word.”
I averted my eyes and glanced in Gabi’s direction. A red-faced Isabel was trying to jerk the box out of Gabi’s grip. And my cousin was tugging at it quite … violently, if I had to pick a word.
My sister yelped, and then she stepped back and brought both hands to her head. “No, no, no, no.” She walked to the center of the circle, waving her hands in the air. “We will play the soccer match. That’s it,” she announced and then turned to Gabi. “I am the bride, and you guys are obligated to do as I say.”
I snorted at that, which earned me an extremely threatening glance from my sister. I stiffened.
Jesus, this wedding would be the end of all of us.
My sister turned to our cousin. “Gabi, no es el fin del mundo.” It’s not the end of the world, she told our cousin. “You”—she turned to me again—“for my next wedding, we are sipping margaritas.”
I bit back a laugh, but yep, I wholeheartedly agreed.
“All right. It’s summer, the sun is shining, and I just had the best idea.” She paused dramatically, looking around the circle of people. “Team Groom will play … shirtless!” Her arms rose in the air.
Nobody spoke.
“Come on, gentlemen.” Isabel’s tone hardened. “It’s always the ladies undressing and showing some skin. This time is up to you to show off those wedding bodies.”
More silence.
Isabel glanced at her groom, who, just like everybody else, was still chewing on her suggestion.
She widened her eyes and swirled her finger in the air, instructing Gonzalo to snap out of it. “Do something!”
My future brother-in-law perked up. “Ah!” The groom shed his shirt, revealing his chest in all his dark-haired glory. He threw his arms up. “Well said, cariño!” he roared. “Come on, gentlemen. Shirts off.”
My sister rewarded his fiancé with a holler and some enthusiastic clapping.
Daniel, as the best man, took off his shirt next. Almost reluctantly, from the way he shook his head. My gaze involuntarily took him in. It wasn’t a shock, seeing how, despite not being anywhere close to being buff—which he had never been—he was still in really good shape. And yet … I felt nothing. No stirring anywhere in my body.
The group’s amusement grew as more of Team Groom’s members followed Gonzalo’s and Daniel’s lead. Well, nobody present was really complaining, probably fearing my sister’s reaction, who, at this point, was cheering at every newfound shirtless male. Even Gabi’s frustration at losing her grip of the group’s control decreased as the atmosphere turned lighter.
That was, until Daniel opened his mouth and brought down the fun atmosphere.
“What about you, American boy?” Daniel pointed at the still fully clothed man standing beside me. “Are you sitting this one out?”
American boy.
My eyes widened. He had just called my boyfriend—fake boyfriend, I corrected myself.
Had my ex just called my fake boyfriend a boy?
Sure, Daniel was about eight or nine years older than Aaron. But calling him a boy?
My head swiveled in Aaron’s direction.
Just in time to see his reaction. His jaw relaxed, the start of a … smile playing on his lips.
Then, he didn’t hesitate. Calmly—scarily so—my fake boyfriend leveled Daniel with a look that would make anybody run for the hills. The look that had earned him his reputation back at work. It was the one he brandished as a warning sign. And it meant trouble. Serious business.
Holding my breath, I watched Aaron’s fingers reach for the hem of his shirt.
Oh my God, he’s gonna do it. My fake boyfriend and future boss is undressing before my eyes.
He pulled it up, and in one swift motion—worthy of one of those perfume ads where everything, except the compelling and otherworldly model in the frame, blurred into the background—Aaron peeled off his shirt.
I blinked.
Madre de Dios.
Aaron was … he was …
Fuck.
He was … gorgeous—no, he was more than just that.
Aaron was a freaking sight to behold.
And his unbelievable, out-of-this-world, ad-worthy upper body was so flawless that it made me want to weep.
I was a shallow, shallow woman. But I couldn’t care.
As my gaze gobbled Aaron in all his shirtlessness, I felt the air being punched out of my lungs. I’d thought I had always been impressed—almost fascinated, if I was being completely honest—by his height and size. But if there was something more impressive, more fascinating than that, it was his height and size decked with hard muscles of all sorts and types.
Jesus Christ. Were his abs sculpted in stone?
My stupid, hungry eyes traveled from his broad shoulders to his chiseled chest and then kept going down, taking in slabs of abs that my imagination would never have been able to fabricate in such perfection. And how his strong arms looked bare, corded with powerful muscles? I would never have been able to imagine that either. Frankly, I almost wanted to poke the man to check if it was all real.
Those boring dress shirts did him no justice. That casual outfit he had worn to the flight hadn’t either. Not even the tux he had worn to the fundraiser did his body any justice.
He was … too … beautiful.
Yeah, I was ogling at that point, and I didn’t really give a damn. Not this time. This was a historical moment. I had a flawless, shirtless Aaron standing in front of me, probably for the first and only time ever. And I wanted to commit this image to memory. Even if it haunted me for the rest of my life, I’d live with it.
Loud cheering and clapping broke through the vacuum I had been sucked in. Blinking, I realized Aaron’s eyes were on me. Our gazes met. There was something intent and hungry behind that deep ocean blue. Something barely controlled. That, or I was seeing my own emotions reflected and looking back at me.
Cheeks flushed, I was completely and utterly unprepared for what the half-naked man in front of me did next. Aaron’s eyes twinkled under the Spanish sun, one corner of his lips curled, gifting me with a full-fledged smirk, and then he winked.
A single, quick, playful wink.
That was all it took for my insides to melt into a puddle. Brain, chest, lower belly, and everything in between liquefied and gathered at my feet.
Nope. I hadn’t been unprepared for that. I had been completely defenseless.
Aaron crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking somewhat satisfied, and returned his gaze ahead, to where Team Groom was gathering to start the soccer match, as if he hadn’t just made parts of my body dissolve into a goo I didn’t know what to do with.
That flawless, shirtless, blue-eyed bastard. Throwing me off-balance like that.
I had been so caught up in all that, that I hadn’t noticed Daniel’s apprehensive gaze. It bounced a couple of times between Aaron and me before finally settling on the man he thought I was dating. Not for long though. A moment after that, Daniel turned, clapped Gonzalo’s back, and started toward the improvised soccer field.
Before joining the rest of the guys, Aaron stepped into me, stopping only when the point of our sneakers touched. He leaned in, his mouth dangerously close to my ear, as if he were about to tell me a secret just meant for me.
My throat bobbed.
“What do you think?” he asked, his words tickling the shell of my ear.
“You are … okay,” I mumbled like a total idiot.
I heard his chuckle. “Thank you, I think. But I wasn’t asking about th
at.”
Oh.
“I’ll take the compliment though. For now.”
“What-what did you mean then?”
“I think that so far, we are doing a good job. What do you think?”
Oh, so he meant that. The charade, of course. Yes, that made more sense.
I nodded my head.
“We make a good team, Catalina.” And there it was, my name again. Voiced in that way that was all … new.
I cleared my throat, trying to ignore the fact that my face was about a palm from his flawless and bare pectoral. “We do,” I murmured.
Aaron lowered his voice. “I had no idea we would walk into that.” He cocked his head. “Caught me off guard, but it’s okay. I’m starting to understand.”
Confusion swirled in me. There was nothing to understand. Granted, there was a part I hadn’t told Aaron—which wasn’t the smartest way to go about it—but that remained in the past. It didn’t affect our goal here.
“Just keep doing what you are doing,” I told him, swallowing the lump stuck in my throat. “Focus on pretending you are crazy about me, all right?”
I heard him hum; it was a low and short-lived sound, but it was enough to make me step back, so I could look at his face. His eyes held that determined edge I knew so well.
“Trust me, I am focusing on only that.”
Before I could say anything else, Aaron started jogging back. “And remember,” he called in the distance, “all is fair in love and war, bollito.”
Almost everybody around turned their eyes on me. My gaze met my sister’s, and she was grinning so widely that I was scared her mouth would inevitably hurt on her wedding day.
Reluctantly, I smiled back at all the onlookers, pretending I was cool and chill and not trying to gather my wits. “Oh, he’s so silly,” I told them. “No need to remind me, cosita mía!” I called back to Aaron.
But Aaron had already shot up, running after the rest of his team. Leaving me standing there, watching how all the polished muscles on his back danced with each of his strides and wondering what the hell that was supposed to mean.
My eyes narrowed.
“All is fair in love and war.”
It was in a way, I guessed. What I had trouble making sense of was, how did that apply when love was fake, and adversaries were left no choice but to join forces?
Chapter Seventeen
Against all odds, we were close to the end of the soccer match, and both teams were tied.
One would think that having to play against a group of shirtless dudes was disconcerting. But I was related to a big chunk of them. I had already seen everything there was to see about one of them—Daniel. And out of the two remaining men, one was about to marry my sister. So, that reduced my distractions considerably.
My main and only source being just one.
One that I usually did a pretty good job at ignoring when we were in our real-world roles. Contrary to the roles we were currently playing, where I, as the girlfriend, was allowed to gawk. And where Aaron, as the boyfriend, was apparently allowed to look like a man shooting a Sports Illustrated cover.
Because that was exactly how a sweaty, shirtless Aaron looked, running across the green field after the ball.
And that was exactly where my two very shallow and very stupid eyes had been all the time. Following him around like two dumb bugs irremediably drawn by an irresistible light. And just like the bug, my eyes had no self-preservation instinct. By the end of the day, the images would be burned into my retinas, and there’d be no way I’d ever be able to get rid of them.
Hell, I already felt a little like a charred insect. Sweat was running down my back, and my skin was on fire from being under the sun. On top of that, my hunger had turned into starvation, and no matter how hard I tried to stay focused on the game, my attention always shifted to Aaron’s long legs, striding from one point to the next. To how the muscles across his torso strained and relaxed as he moved. To the little drops traveling down his chest, across those glorious pecs. To how my blood seemed to simmer and swirl every time our gazes met.
So, yeah, I felt icky and bothered and hot. In no particular order.
And yet, somehow, Team Bride had still scored as many goals as the guys. Baffling really, but what did I know? I had been too busy, ogling my flawless, glistening fake boyfriend.
Gonzalo’s voice boomed across the field, all the way to where I was. “Vamos! They cannot win this!” He accompanied each of his words with an aggressive clap. “Five minutes! We’ve got five minutes, guys! We need to win this shit!”
As the men regrouped on their side of the field, I noticed how Daniel approached Gonzalo and Aaron, gesturing with his hands and pointing at our goal.
“Madre mía,” Isabel said from her position as our goalie, a few steps behind me. “I think they are making strategic changes. This doesn’t look good, hermanita.”
As I took in the men’s motions and consequent change in positions, my sister’s suspicions were confirmed.
“We are screwed, Isa,” I assessed without turning to her. “They are switching Aaron to the front. They are using him as a striker.”
“Mierda. Clark Kent is going to be the one attacking?” My sister came to my side and narrowed her eyes in the direction of our opponents. “Quick, take off your shirt too. That will distract him.”
I scoffed. “What? No.”
“But, Lina—”
“I’m not taking my shirt off. What the hell are you talking about?”
“But your bubbies will distract your boyfriend.”
“They won’t, trust me.” Realizing what I’d said was not exactly girlfriend-like, I explained, “He’s already seen all there is to see. So, forget it.”
“Then, dance or wiggle. Do whatever rocks his boat.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “No.”
“Fine. Then, we are going down.”
“Not without a fight,” I assured her and then brought my hands to my mouth and proceeded to do the same with the rest of the team. “Vamos, chicas! Todavía podemos ganar!”
My words of encouragement were naive; there was no way we could still win the match. Not with Aaron striking. And certainly not if I flashed him, like Isabel had suggested.
Turning back to my sister, I pointed a finger at her. “Remember this moment when the losers, which no doubt will be us, are dancing for everyone tonight. Next time, if you want to bet and jeopardize my rep, pick quiz night. Not stupid soccer. Now, let’s try to finish this with as much dignity as we can.”
As I faced the other team, all the guys clicked into action. My gaze focused on the ball, passing from one player to the next, all of them leaving every Team Bride member helplessly behind. Soon enough, I was witnessing how the ball landed at Aaron’s feet, who, for his hulking size, moved with incredible agility and skill.
For someone who had never played soccer before, he had gotten the hang of it pretty damn fast.
Aaron’s looming figure approached me swiftly, eating away the distance. Way too quickly for my brain to order my limbs to kick into action.
Mierda.
In an attempt to stop him in any way I could that didn’t involve getting naked, I launched myself in his direction with the purpose of intercepting the ball. Or him. Anything would do. Unfortunately, that intent landed nowhere near where I’d expected. Just when I was about to reach him, my foot got caught in a little bump on the grass, causing me to trip and be catapulted forward.
So much for ending this with dignity.
As I braced myself for a painful landing, my eyelids shut involuntarily. I was swallowed by darkness, counting the seconds and milliseconds left for the upcoming crush against the grass. Three, two, one …
Nothing. Impact never ensued. One moment, I had been flying, eyes closed and about to face-plant on the floor, and the next, I was somehow suspended in time. No, I was suspended in the air. Not understanding how, I blinked my eyes open, just as a humph was punched out of my l
ips.
My midsection landed against something hard.
Then, I was greeted by the sight of glistening, smooth skin. A flawless back. My gaze trailed down, taking in a tight backside in sports shorts, followed by a pair of muscled calves.
Understanding sank in as I realized I was hanging off someone. Particularly off someone’s shoulder—Aaron’s shoulder to be one hundred percent exact.
What in the—
Everybody seemed to be on board, if the clapping and cheering around us were any indication. Ignoring the little commotion behind us, Aaron rearranged me on his broad shoulder, gripping my waist gently but firmly. A complaint rose and died in my throat as he shot off, running.
“Aaron,” I screeched with urgency.
He was running with me hanging off him like a goddamn human-sized potato sack.
With every stride, the symmetric and strained strings of muscle on his back moved. His backside too. Distracting me.
Dammit, Lina, no. Focus.
“Aaron,” I repeated, being ignored again. “What. Are. You. Doing?” My speech was interrupted with each bounce of his body. With each stomp of his long legs, guiding the ball in my sister’s direction. “Aaron Blackford!”
He chuckled. Then, he patted the back of my thigh. “I couldn’t let my girlfriend fall to the floor now, could I?” the bastard said calmly, not sounding one bit out of breath.
“Aaron,” I howled. “I swear to Lucifer—”
He bounced a little extra hard, cutting my words. His hold on my waist tightened. Sending a wave of awareness down my legs. His other palm held the back of my thigh still, his fingers spreading across my skin. God, everything I felt under me was hard and warm.
Dammit.
I couldn’t believe it, but I was mad and … and … and …
Shit. I was a little turned on by the display of strength.
That last thought had barely registered when Aaron’s grip on my waist shifted, securing me with his whole arm. I could feel his biceps against my side. My blood swirled, and it had nothing to do with being upside down.
“Brace yourself, girlfriend. I’m going to win this thing and put some food in you before you eat my head off.”
