by Ella Fox
The smile on her face slipped away. "Uh. None that I know."
She didn't elaborate, but I could tell there was more to it than what she'd said.
“They say only children are strong and focused on their goals,” I offered. “That’s not a bad thing.”
Kaya let out a dismissive sound as she took a turn into the parking lot of the Farmer's Market. "Whatever strength I have didn't come from being raised an only child. Everything good I learned came from Gigi and Dean."
I wanted to ask who they were but didn't get the chance since she had found a parking spot. I unlatched my seatbelt as she pressed the button to close the convertible roof. Once we were out of the car, she opened her trunk and gestured to a pile of reusable grocery totes.
“Want one?” she asked.
I nodded and then accepted a mint green fabric tote that was embroidered with the words Reduce, Reuse, and Recycle. She then pulled three more bags out for herself, all brightly colored with the same slogan on the front.
"I'm going to start with fruit," she announced. "Anything specific you want to go check out? I know this place like the back of my hand, so just tell me what you're thinking, and I'll point you on your way."
I figured it was still too soon to tell Kaya I just wanted to spend time with her, so I didn’t.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll explore with you and see what catches my eye.”
There was a brief hesitation as color spread across her cheeks. "Sure. Follow along, and we'll see what they've got today. Fair warning—I stop at about seventy percent of the booths. If shopping annoys you, get ready to be bored to tears."
I grinned down at her, unfazed by her telling me that. Stopping at the majority of the booths meant time and the more of it that I got to spend with Kaya, the better. Also, I'd spent thousands of hours of my life food shopping in order to learn everything there was to know about it. Going slowly wouldn't faze me at all.
We worked through fruits and vegetables first, where Kaya bought the biggest strawberries I'd ever seen in my life. I bought half-dozen ears of locally grown corn while she stocked up on fresh herbs, salad greens, and carrots. Her initial anxiety dissolved within the first few minutes, which was a relief. For having known each other for such a short amount of time, it was surprising that there wasn't any real discomfort between the two of us. We were able to travel from booth to booth without awkward silences or inane conversations about the weather. When we were silent, it was comfortable, and when we discussed things that were being sold at the booths we stopped at, it felt natural. Nothing was forced between us.
When we got to the prepared foods tents, I saw that there was an area with tables set up for people to eat. Since I wanted to draw our time together out as much as possible, I pointed to the tables and asked if she'd mind eating because I was starving.
"I generally stop and eat anyway," she answered. "What's caught your eye?"
I gestured with my head back at the stand to our left. “The smell of those homemade chips is making my mouth water.”
Kaya beamed at me like I’d given her the answers for the final exam in a class she hadn’t studied for.
“Their chips are amazzzzzzing,” she drawled, “and the homemade salsa and guac will take you to food heaven. Let’s grab a table so I can drop my bags and I’ll go order.”
As soon as we’d chosen a table and had set our bags onto an empty chair, Kaya stepped back to leave. I held out my hand to her. “Wait, I’ll go get—”
She shook her head firmly. “This is my treat. I owe you for all the aggravation with Elvis.”
I felt like such a piece of shit. Although the first incident had occurred naturally, I was the reason Elvis had come over the wall the second time.
“You don’t owe me anything, Kaya. Please—”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared me down. “We can argue about this, but you’ll lose. The bottom line is that it’s important to me.”
I nodded and held my hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say.”
Kaya nodded her head once and grinned cheekily before she spun on her heel to go get the food.
7
Kaya
When I returned to our table, I had two orders of fresh chips, separate containers of salsa and guac, a container of fresh chocolate chip cookies, two bottles of fresh iced tea and two bottles of water. I hadn't had the foresight to take one of my reusable totes with me when I left the table, so I wound up having to buy another. Alejandro took it from me as I slid into the chair across from where he'd been seated.
He unpacked the bag with quick efficiency and set everything out in the middle of the table. Alejandro was handsome in a way that made it impossible to ignore him. I was tempted to touch his exposed skin to see if it was as warm as it looked. Everything about him was off-the-charts hot.
“These smell incredible,” he said as he pulled the cover off the double order of chips I’d gotten.
I nodded and bit my lip as I pretended to look the food over and tried to collect my wits. What smelled incredible to me was Alejandro's cologne, which wasn't like anything I'd come across before. It was a combination of something woodsy and something spicy with a hint of pineapple.
“Am I smelling cilantro on these chips?” he asked.
I nodded as my eyes went from his ridiculously sexy forearms to his too blue eyes. “Unless you say otherwise when you order the chips are sprinkled with fresh chopped cilantro and sea salt when they come out of the fryer. I hope that’s okay—I probably should’ve asked before I went to get the food. I know not everyone loves cilantro.”
Alejandro chuckled as he extracted a chip and dipped it into the guacamole. “One of my favorite dishes is the tortilla española my mamá makes. It’s eggs, cheddar cheese, tomatoes, onions and cilantro that is fried in olive oil.”
“A breakfast burrito, right?” I asked as I dunked a warm chip into the fresh salsa.
He shook his head as he chewed his chip. After swallowing—I watched with far too much interest in the way his throat moved as he did—he answered. "There is no tortilla in the dish. Here you would call tortilla española an omelet. It's one of those things that gets lost a little in translation from Spain to America."
That answered my unasked question about what country he was from. “What part of Spain were you born in?”
“Barcelona,” he answered with a smile.
Since he was so fluent in Spanish and English, I assumed he had probably moved to the states as a young child.
“When did you move to America?”
He shook his head. "I didn't ever move here full time. I came to America for college. Since graduation, I have spent up to four months of the year in Los Angeles or New York. I like it here, but Spain is in my blood." His voice was full of pride, and the smile on his face spoke of a love of his country.
“You speak English so fluently I assumed you’d moved here at some point,” I explained.
“Ah, I see,” he said as his lips quirked into a smile. “My brothers and I all attended an American school in Barcelona. I am thankful that my parents wanted us to be bilingual.”
“What about your parents?” I asked, curious. “Are they also bilingual?”
“Yes. They both speak English and Spanish, but my father is also fluent in French. What about you?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. “Do you speak any other languages, Kaya?”
Every time he said my name my heart skipped a beat. If I were the type to swoon or get weak in the knees—I assured myself I most definitely was not the type, thank you very much—the way he said my name would’ve been my kryptonite.
"I don't," I answered with a shake of my head. "I took Spanish in junior high but to be honest, I remember almost none of it. I was lucky to squeak out of the classes with a C average, which was just enough for me to pass. I didn't take a language when I got to high school. In retrospect, I realize I probably should have, but I was frustrated by the less-than-stellar experience in ninth gra
de."
“I’m happy to teach you any Spanish you want to know,” he offered huskily.
I blushed and looked away because the feeling of his gaze on me had caused my nipples to harden. Again.
"I'm sure you have better things to do with your vacation than teaching the girl next door how to speak Spanish," I quipped.
“Nothing would make me happier than helping you with whatever you would like to learn. I think I would be a good teacher to you.”
In my mind's eye, I imagined Alejandro trailing his fingers across my skin as he taught me how he liked to make love. I sputtered out a cough as I twisted the cap off my water and took several gulps in the hopes of dousing the fire that was blazing inside of me.
“We’ll see,” I croaked.
His eyes were full of mirth as he grinned at me—almost like he knew what I was thinking. I hoped that wasn't the case since my thoughts were far too steamy to share.
“I’ll teach you something now. Say hoy ha sido perfecto.”
“Hoy ha sido perfecto,” I parroted softly.
Alejandro nodded his head with approval. “Nailed it,” he said proudly.
“What did I say?”
“You said today is perfect, something I hope we can both agree on in any language, Belleza.”
“And that means?” I asked.
“Something for me to know and you to find out, once you let me teach you more Spanish.”
The grin on his face caused my core to clench. What was it about Alejandro Cruz that made my body desire things I’d long been able to ignore?
I shrugged to feign indifference. "You can't be in town for long. It would hardly make sense for you to waste your vacation time on me."
“You’ll be happy to know that I’m here indefinitely,” he answered.
My already racing pulse picked up speed. He wasn't going anywhere, and I had a strong feeling I wouldn't be able to avoid him.
“Summer vacation?”
I couldn’t miss the look of amusement on his face as he opened the container of cookies and passed one over to me.
"Something like that. The rest of my family will arrive in about two weeks, and they'll stay for about a week, but Rafe and I will be staying for most of the summer. I spend a month at the LA office when I'm here anyway, so it made sense to draw this trip out. Rafe works from home unless he's got meetings, which means he can work anywhere. I won't be on vacation the entire time I'm here—I'll be going to the office for half days this week—but whenever possible I will work from home.
“What do you do?” I blurted.
His devilish grin told me he was plotting something.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said after a pause. “If you tell me what your YouTube channel is called, I’ll tell you what I do. Let’s make it an even exchange of information.”
My fingers weren’t quite steady as I set my cookie onto the napkin in front of me.
I ducked my chin, knowing my face had flooded with color. “It’s embarrassing,” I mumbled.
“You put the videos up on a site that millions of people could see,” he pointed out. “Why does telling me the name embarrass you?”
The honest answer was that it was him. I didn't want him to look at my videos and think of me as stupid or somehow less than. The production quality on my channel was good, but it wasn't Oscar-caliber. I took a deep breath and swallowed before answering. "Kaya's Korner. Emery suggested that it would be cute if I spelled corner with a K, so I did."
Alejandro grinned and set his iced tea back down on the table. “It is cute,” he nodded. “What was your last video about?”
I chuckled as I crumbled some of my cookie between my fingers and watched the crumbs rain down on my napkin. “I made some cakes in a jar.”
He took another sip of his tea and cocked his head. “What kind of cakes?”
“Pumpkin cheesecake, s’mores supreme, a mint chocolate poke cake, almond poppy seed, apple honey and crème brûlée.
I couldn't believe he looked interested. "How many did you make of each?"
“I make six of each.”
His brow wrinkled with confusion. “Why so many?”
"Inevitably a few in each batch aren't quite camera ready, and I only use the best looking samples for the channel. When there's a crack in the top or the icing is weird looking, I move on."
"You've got to have at least a few leftovers, yeah? Because there's no way, you ate thirty-six cakes in a jar."
“Well, I used six for samples, threw four away that didn’t look good enough to do anything with and ate two. So, yes—I’ve got a few left.”
His blue eyes sparkled when he smiled. “What I’m hearing is that a whole lot of cakes in a jar are calling out from your kitchen. They may as well have my name on them, Kaya. May I try some?”
My stomach fluttered like he'd just told me I was the most beautiful girl in the world. I'd hoped that spending time with him would blunt his effect on me, but if anything the opposite was happening. The discomfort I'd felt with him at first was fading away, but in its place, my attraction to him was only growing stronger.
I bit my lower lip as an idea took hold in my head. If I could keep myself busy around him, I was sure the attraction would fade away.
“You can—if you’ll do something for me,” I said slowly.
"I'm easy, Kaya. You tell me what to do to make you happy, and I'll do it."
I swore there was another meaning behind his words, but I didn’t want to look at it too closely.
“Let me film your reaction for the channel,” I blurted nervously. “I know it seems silly but people like when I add footage of people tasting what I make. You don’t have to—”
“I’ll do it.”
I was stunned that he’d agreed. Honestly, I’d been fully prepared for him to say no. Alejandro was kind, but not everyone would react positively to being asked to appear in a fluffy YouTube video.
I raised an eyebrow at him as a thought occurred to me. “Some people drag their feet about being in front of a camera unless they have experience. You didn’t even hesitate, which makes me wonder. Are you an actor?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Nope.”
Hmm. Maybe I’d been right in my first assessment. “Model?”
He laughed harder. “No. You’re way off. I work in—”
I held out both of my hands in the universal gesture that meant stop. "Wait! Don't tell me. Let me ask you seven questions, and then I'll try to guess what business you're in. I'm good at solving things by asking a few key things."
“Isn’t the game twenty questions?” he chuckled.
I shook my head. “Some people need twenty. I only ever need between five and seven.”
“Are you a sore loser? Because even if I gave you forty questions, I don’t think you’d be able to guess correctly,” he teased.
That only made me want to figure it out on my own even more.
“I don’t normally lose. If I do, I’ll survive—but don’t count me out just yet.”
“Okay then.”
“Ready?” I asked.
Alejandro leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. “Hit me with your best shot.”
“First I have to figure out if you work with your hands or not.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Is that a question?”
Darn, he hadn’t fallen for it. Normally people volunteered the information. I wrinkled my nose and looked him over. “Let me see them.”
He sat up and uncrossed his arms before extending them out to allow me to see his hands. When I reached forward and took his right hand in mine, I blew out a slow breath. His skin was warm, and his hands were soft yet firm. It wasn't exactly surprising that Alejandro was strong considering how exceptional his physique was, but the strength I could feel in his hands was unexpectedly arousing. I quickly studied his nails and cuticles before pulling my hands back to sever the connection.
"You don't work with your hands. No hamme
ring, sawing or anything that involves frequent washing like painting, ceramics or even anything medical."
His expression was perfectly schooled, giving nothing away. “You’re cheating by trying to get information with observations instead of questions,” he teased.
I gave him my most innocent looking smile. “Who, me?”
His gaze dropped to my mouth, and for just a second I swore I saw an expression of desire on his face, but just as quickly it was gone, replaced by an affable grin.
When he spoke his voice was husky, his Spanish accent a bit thicker than usual. “Yes, you. I don’t think you can figure it out with just seven questions, Kaya.”
I shrugged my shoulders and raised my hands. “Alright, alright, you caught me. But don’t get too cocky, Mr. Cruz. I’ve got my questions all lined up. Prepare to be amazed.”
Alejandro inclined his head toward me. “Do your best, Miss Porter.”
I tapped my index finger against my lips as I considered what I knew about Alejandro. Aside from the fact that he was unbelievably good looking—and that he somehow made me feel like I was dealing with my first crush—the one thing I knew with absolute certainty was that he was wealthy. That was a no-brainer, considering that the family vacation home had to have cost at least twenty million dollars, and that was a conservative estimate.
Other things I knew were that he was from a large family and his parents had not spoiled their sons rotten with high-end cars as soon as they could drive. I knew he'd gone to college because he'd mentioned living in America during that time. I decided a good bet was to find out where he'd gone to school because it might narrow things down.
“Where did you go to college? Be specific.”
He nodded like he’d expected the question. “I graduated with an MBA from Stanford School of Business.”
I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. Business was a wide-open field. Dean had a business degree, and he’d been a financial planner. My friend Gina was in school earning a business degree to work in the insurance field. Knowing Alejandro had an MBA in business didn’t narrow it down as much as I’d hoped.
I frowned as I considered what to ask next. For some reason, my mind kept returning to his house and the cars outside. His brother was younger than he was and they both had luxury cars. Also, the entire family was vacationing together at one time. Clearly, they were close and didn't mind spending a lot of time together. That's he'd just mentioned that Rafe could work from home made me think that maybe they worked together. And if they worked together, perhaps the entire family did.
