Page 16 of It Takes Three To Tango

“That also seems a bit weird now that we’ve been talking about it for several minutes.”

I feel a slight ripple of disappointment that I won’t be that close to him, even for those few seconds. “Maybe next time then, though I have to tell you that here in Spain, we use both cheeks, not just the one,” I can’t help adding, and see Rafe nod slightly as if he’s filing that away in his brain.

“Something smells delicious.” I change the subject before it gets more awkward and because it truly does smell good.

“Well, it’s nearly ready.” Florencio turns from where he’s been stirring something on the stove. “So shoo, off to the dining room.”

“Have you done the cooking?” I look around at the pans and dishes adorning the kitchen counters.

“I have and we are having a little taste of Argentina tonight.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask.

He thrusts the wine I brought back into my hands. “Open this, now go.” He makes a shooing motion with his hands.

“We’ve been dismissed,” I whisper to Rafe as we walk along the passage to the dining room, enjoying the sound of his laughter.

Estrella enters, aided by Juana, and I greet her in the Spanish way. Rafe, with a little smile, follows my lead. Juana helps her into a chair.

“Lovely to see you again, Miss Winters, and thank you for the invite.”

“Do you know, I think I’d like you to call me Auntie too. Both of you.” She fixes both of us with her sharp eyes as wesit. “I’ve never had my family close, and I find I’m rather liking it. It sounds much better than calling me Miss Winters, doesn’t it?”

“We could call you Estrella,” Rafe offers as Florencio bustles in carrying a large dish that he sets down on the table.

“You could, but I prefer Auntie.” She gives a mischievous grin that settles the matter.

The dinner is excellent. We start with provoleta, a grilled cheese, followed by steak with salad and chimichurri. The tarta de ricota with dulce de leche, a sweet, reduced-milk spread, finishes the meal perfectly.

“That was delicious, Florencio. Thank you,” I praise him as I chase the last of my ricotta tart round my bowl.

“You’re welcome. I enjoy cooking. It’s my favourite thing next to dancing.”

“That’s my first taste of Argentina,” Rafe says as Florencio holds his hands out to take his dish for clearing away.

“I’ll make sure it’s not your last,” I hear him reply with a smile. If Rafe understood him, he doesn’t show it. Florencio catches my eye as he asks for my dish. “What about you? Would you like to sample some more of Argentina?” He gives me a flash of his teeth.

“Of course, given the chance,” I reply, and I get a sassy wink as he rises.

“Can we help clean up?” Rafe asks, jumping up. “I can wash the dishes.”

“There’s a dishwasher, so no, it’s fine. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He disappears towards the kitchen.

“I’d like some air if you could help me to the terrace,” Estrella says, and I go to her aid while Juana helps clear the table. As I escort her through the house, I wonder if Florencio had meant what he said or if he was just harmlessly flirting. Right at this moment, I can’t decide which I hope for the most.

When I reach the terrace, the sky is just starting to turn indigo, the inky colour fading to the east where the last of the sun washes into the horizon.

My aunt is in a chair, while Constantin and Rafe are standing by the balustrade, one of my favourite places to look out over the city.

“Are you all right, Auntie?” I ask as I stop by her chair to check on her.

“I’m fine, my dear.”

Constantin turns, concern etched on his face.

“I’m sorry if we tired you out the other night,” he says.

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