Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
“And what if I don’t want to share my ‘deal’ with a total stranger?” I tease, taking another sip of my coffee.
“Then I’ll just have to guess,” he says. His green eyes narrow as though he’s deeply evaluating me. “You’re from England - easy. You’re stubborn - obvious. And you’re here because you like a challenge.”
“Wrong,” I say, my tone triumphant as I smirk back at him. “I’m here because I wanted an adventure. Also, who says I’m stubborn?”
He raises an eyebrow. “I can tell. It’s in the way you talk. Like you’ve already decided I’m trouble.”
“Am I wrong?” I counter.
“Depends,” he says with a wink. “Do you like trouble?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I… you’re impossible.”
He’s clearly quite pleased with himself. “And yet, you’re still talking to me.”
I give up on trying to work. It’s clear that Santi has no desire to leave me alone right now, so I close my laptop and lean forward on the table.
“Fine, then. What’s your deal? You’ve got me curious now.”
“Curiousity,” he says with a playful glint in his eye. “That’s a dangerous thing.”
“Well, you seem to think you know me so well already, but I hardly know anything about you. Surely it’s only natural for me to be curious.”
“I’m just a guy who likes coffee,” he shrugs. “What else is there to know?”
“That’s the most non-answer I’ve ever heard,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Maybe you’re a politician.”
He pulls a face, evidently unimpressed.
“No way,” he says. “Maybe I’m just mysterious.”
“Or maybe you’re just avoiding the question,” I shoot back, smirking as I tilt my head. “And all these deflections are making me impossibly more curious. What are you hiding?”
Santi gives me a slow, lazy smile as he leans forward again in the booth, and we’re suddenly a lot closer, to the point where I can clearly see the hints of yellow in his lovely green eyes.
He pauses for a moment, and I practically wait with baited breath for what he’s about to finally reveal…
“Nothing you can’t figure out if you try hard enough.”
I don’t attempt to hide my disappointment at his answer, letting out a long, loud groan.
“You’re so frustrating!” I say, laughing despite myself. “You know what - fine. Keep your secrets. But don’t expect me to believe you’re just some random guy who happens to show up everywhere I go.”
“Alright, alright,” he says with a dramatic flourish, “I’ll give you something.”
Now that piques my interest, and I eagerly wait for him to continue.
“My full name is Santiago Ortiz.”
“Santiago Ortiz,” I repeat, testing the name.
It sounds so much nicer falling from his tongue, but he smiles as though he likes the sound of me saying it anyway.
“For all your stalking needs,” he adds.
“Good to know,” I say, trying not to look too pleased with myself. “Should I write that down somewhere?”
“Probably,” he says, grinning. “You might need it.”
From where we’re both leaning towards each other over the table, our hands brush slightly, and I just about manage to refrain from physically jumping as a jolt flies through my body. My eyes flicker between his large, warm hands and his face, and my abdomen clenches when I notice his gaze briefly drop to my lips.
The banter between us might be light and easy, but there’s an underlying electricity here that I can’t ignore.
“Anyway,” Santi says. The sound of him speaking again breaks me from the spell I’m under. “I should get going. Your lessons aren’t going to plan themselves.”
I nod as he moves to stand, unable to stop my gaze from wandering all over his broad body as he towers over me.
“Good luck, profesora.”
“Thanks,” I say. “And Santi - for the record, I’m definitely not stalking you.”
“Sure, sure,” he teases, tipping his cap. “Whatever you say, Olivia.”
I watch him make his way to the main door and step out into the afternoon air, and as he disappears from view, I can’t help but smile to myself.
Santiago Ortiz.
There’s something about him that’s impossible to ignore.
Chapter Eleven
I’m still replaying my conversation with Santi when I get home later that afternoon.
Part of me is irritated by this whole thing. After everything that happened, I told myself I wasn’t going to do this - had sworn off even having a brief fling whilst here in Spain - but no matter how hard I try to resist him, Santi has a way of drawing me in.
Now that I’m in the privacy of my own apartment, curiosity gets the better of me, and after dropping my bag down by the door, I reach for my laptop and settle down on the couch.
“Alright, Santiago Ortiz,” I mutter as I open a search engine. “Let’s see who you really are.”
The moment I hit ‘search,’ dozens of images and articles flood the screen, a cascade of snapshots that make my heart leap into my throat, and my jaw drops as I click on the first link.