Page 19 of It Takes Three To Tango

“Told you.” He smirks and I eat in silence for the next few minutes, satisfying the hunger that had appeared after I had the first mouthful. When I’m done, I sit back and drink more of my coffee.

“So how come you’re so good at cooking?” I’m intrigued by him.

“We always had cooks at home, and I spent a lot of mytime making sure I kept out of my father’s way. He rarely entered the kitchen, so I was pretty safe there.”

“Was it that bad?” I ask. My parents might not agree with my career choice, but I am loved nonetheless. The thought reminds me that I need to call them today and let them know I’d cancelled my flight home, And I ought to call my agent as well. I put off the dreary thought of that and turn back to Florencio.

“He was never cruel. Well, not physically, but psychologically . . . it hurt. I could never do anything right. I never lived up to his expectations. A constant source of disappointment. At school I was interested in the arts, not maths and business. I have an older brother and sister who love that sort of stuff and they’re both top executives in the family business. One of them, and my money is on my sister, will take over from him one day. I’m five years younger than my sister, an afterthought, possibly even a mistake. I’m so unlike my father that I’m pretty sure he might have even questioned my parentage.”

“Is there a question about it?” I blurt, then grimace as I realise I’ve been insensitive. I was so wrapped up in his story, I didn’t think.

He laughs. “No, my parents are good together, and I’m more like him than he cares to notice—or admit. I’m stubborn and pretty relentless when I want my own way. Asking for dancing lessons was a battle of wills.”

“Did you win?”

“No. I didn’t actually take any proper lessons until I was eighteen and decided I wanted to teach it myself. But I loved to dance and asked the cook and the maids to teach me that as well. Another activity that could be done in the safety of the kitchen and away from my father. So before I was ten, I could dance the tango and make a very credible dulce de leche.”

It’s an amazing story and I’m stunned at how dedicated he is to following the path he wants to, even given the obstacles in his way.

He stretches slightly. “So now you’re here, what would you like to do?” he asks with a smile, resting his head on his hand. His brown eyes are soft as he looks at me. I feel like he’s genuinely interested in what I might say. It catches me off guard for a minute.

“I have to tell my parents I’m staying here for a while, and my agent too, but then I thought I’d like to read for a while.”

“I’m going to spend some time this morning with my aunt, let Juana have some time to herself, but we’re going to the bar later. Yes?”

“Of course.” We’d agreed that we were going to see Constantin later.

“Bien. I think you’re ready to dance in public,” he says. “That is, if you want to be seen dancing with me in public, of course.” His mouth is smiling, but his eyes darken, throwing down a challenge. I wonder if this is one of the times he’s like his father. I know what he meant, though, referencing when I refused him the first time. But I’m no bigot, and I have no problem being seen dancing with him.

“I’ll gladly dance with you,” I reply, and this time, his smile reaches the corners of his eyes, making them crinkle slightly.

“A month!” The shriek pulses down the phone, and I hold it away from my ear slightly. I knew Helen would not be happy, but I didn’t expect it at that volume. She launches into a tirade about me not taking my job seriously when she’sworking hard to get me a contract. Right now, I couldn’t really care. I know I have to face it at some point, but I need this month to consider my options, not a reminder of what they aren’t. I only half listen, letting her run her course. But a name snags on my consciousness, and I become fully alert. Sloan Thorpe. By the time she mentioned him the third time, this time asking why I’m not more like him, I’ve had enough. I thought Sloan had an agent, but something about her words puts my hackles up.

“Did you take Sloan on? Are you his agent now?”

Silence greets me at the other end of the line. Then, after what feels like a full minute, she replies.

“Well, you’re not doing much at the moment. I have bills too . . .” It’s bullshit. I know she has lots of successful authors she agents for. She just wants to ride on his coattails as he becomes the darling of Deatons.

“Don’t call me again,” I grind out and cut the call. I throw the phone down on my bed and follow it a second later, lying face down and groaning.

“Am I going to be plagued by that guy all my life?”

I allow myself exactly two minutes of time wallowing in despair before calling my parents. I don’t know if I can trust Helen not to, and I don’t want them to hear from her that I’ve extended my stay in Spain.

Luckily, she hasn’t, but that fact does nothing to redeem her right now. They take it very well, better than expected, actually. I might have bent the truth a little and said I was working on some new ideas. It might be true by the end of the month, so I don’t feel too bad about that. They even surprise me by saying that they might come to Barcelona for a visit. Maybe take in some European cities. That they deserved a holiday and hadn’t been away for a while. I’m not sure what they’d think of my current living arrangements. I’ve been economical with that information as well. But that they canstill surprise me after twenty-eight years puts me in a better humour.

I find my way downstairs and find a spot in the shade to read. But first I download a phrasebook and an app. If I’m going to be here for a month, I really want to learn some of the language.

I look at the table filled with dirty glasses and empty bottles and sigh. I really should’ve cleaned them away last night instead of leaving them for this morning. But it was late, and I was exhausted. Maybe I’m just getting old—too old for entertaining. I laugh at myself, knowing exactly what Estrella would say to that notion. Last night was the second night in a row that Florencio and Rafe have come to the bar since Rafe started staying with Florencio and Estrella. They don’t have to. They can stay up at the mansion, but I appreciate their company. Perhaps it’s just to give Estrella a break, so she doesn’t get too tired.

For whatever reason they come, I like them being here. But it’s also difficult, seeing them laughing and dancing together. I join them as much as I can, but I also have a bar to run, and I don’t feel I’m doing very well at that right now, not with them there to distract me. They stayed late last night; it must have been three when they left this morning, hence whyI didn’t clean up. I grab a few glasses and take them to the sink, then I clear away the bottles. I might have drunk a bit too much rum, which would account for my fuzzy head this morning. I should definitely cut down a bit.

“Hi, boss.” Alena comes in just as I’m finishing wiping the table.

“Is it that time already?” We open at noon for most of the year, but when the summer comes we won’t open until four in the afternoon, after siesta. I continue to clean the other tables, setting the chairs out ready to open.

“Almost,” Alena laughs at me. It’s unusual for me to be so out of it, but I do feel sluggish this morning. Luckily, Alena is efficient, and she makes a quick inventory of the fridges, ready to restock them.

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