She expected to find Obinna at the door, there to meet Alma, or maybe Alma herself with her hands full of books or food. Instead, Grace’s mouth fell open as she stared up into chocolatey brown eyes and pouting lips, thick brows that were drawn into a frown, and—she couldn’t help notice—a muscled arm that was raised against the door frame.
Rafael.
Grace tried to find her voice, but he beat her to it.
“I’m on duty, it seems.” His exasperation was as thick as his accent.
“On duty?”
“Yes, Alma said she’s stuck at the lab, so I’m required to check in and care for you.”
Grace regained her composure quickly, reminding herself not to be distracted by Raf’s pretty face or impressive physique. “You arenotrequired to check in and care for me,” she said.
He raised his hands. “I’m only following instructions.”
“Well then, thanks for stopping by. As you can see, I’m perfectly fine, so you may go.”
“You know how Alma is.”
“Yes?”
Raf shook his head. “She’ll kill me if I don’t entertain you.”
Grace huffed a mirthless laugh. “You don’t need to entertain me, I promise.”
“That’s what I told her, but asyoucan see, I lost that battle.”
Grace turned away without replying—because what could she even say to that?—and allowed Rafael to enter the apartment. Here he was, forced to spend time with heragain.She hadn’t come to Spain for pity hangouts and overwrought sympathy, but she could admit she didn’t want to be alone all the time. She hadn’t been close with her co-workers in Chicago, at least not close enough to hang out when they weren’t co-workers any longer. Derek had been her closest friend, and obviously, that was no longer the case. And then there was her grandmother… Grace didn’t even want to think about it. Yes, sure, she could admit it. She’d been sad and lonely and pathetic, but that didn’t mean she needed this buzzkill showing up to spend time with her out of obligation. She had been managing just fine without him.
“Have you eaten?” Rafael asked.
Grace thought for a moment, trying to remember her last meal. Finally, she shook her head.
“Well.” Raf slid his sunglasses back on top of his scalp, and Grace watched their path as they made little waves through his hair. “Let’s go then.”
“We don’t have to do that.”
“You have something to eat here?”
Grace glanced toward the kitchen. She had…a jar of Nutella.
“Come on then.” Raf waved a hand toward the door. “I haven’t eaten anything either.Vamos.”
Grace pursed her lips. “I don’t need you to come check on me and make sure I eat. You can tell Alma that was very thoughtful of her, but I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Graciela,” Raf said sternly.
A shiver went down her spine. No one had ever called her that before, and there was something about it, something undeniably hot. His accent was already delicious, but to hear him use it like that…those soft a’s and rolling r’s… For a moment, she was caught so off guard that she forgot to be stubborn, and Rafael was able to push her out the door and down the stairs before she could give it any more thought.
Graciela.An image flashed in her head of Raf in bed, calling her that name, a flick of his tongue as he was licking her earlobe, then pressing his lips to the side of her neck. No, no. That wasn’t right. She was not going to start having fantasies of Rafael Ferrer-Martín, even if he was stupidly good looking. Grace had never been shallow, or she would have kissed him ten years ago. It waspersonalitythat mattered. Intelligence and kindness and a sense of humor for goodness’ sake. She knew Raf didn’t have that last one. He was stone-faced and unshakeable. Don’t bother telling him an ancient statue looked like Keanu Reeves on a motorcycle. Definitely don’t bother trying to give the statue a lap dance. Even when she and Alma tried to get Rafael in on their inside jokes, he remained willfullyoutside.
So, no, she would not be developing an attraction for Rafael. At least, not a real one. Physically, he was an absolute feast for the eyes, but it wasn’t enough to merit bedroom fantasies.
The sun had already set, but there was still a lingering remnant of deep purple on the horizon. Grace took a moment to appreciate it, to catalog that color as one of the things she could be grateful for, something she would always want to remember about living in Spain. She and Raf didn’t talk as they walked, but before she knew it, they’d ducked into a small, hole-in-the-wall place, not the kind of establishment where she’d pictured Rafael. She eyed him curiously, and he shrugged before pulling out a chair for her.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Share some tapas? They have really goodpatatas bravas. Always delicious.”
