Page 14 of The Christmas Cover Rule
“Yeah. I don’t really fuck with wild animals.”
She huffs out a small laugh, and the sound is so beautiful, I’ll take that small win.
CHAPTER 9
sella
“Ithink I’m going to skip dinner tonight, I’m still not feeling very well.”
“Alright, mija. Tell Jonas he’s welcome to come with us.”
I glance over at Jonas swinging gently in the hammock, one tattooed leg draped over the side, nudging the ground just enough to keep him going. He’s wearing an oversized Pearl Jam T-shirt, a pair of olive green shorts, his hair is a little messy, and his face is relaxed with a sun-kissed glow.
Jonas is objectively good-looking in his suit and tailored linen shirts, he’s been wearing around my family, but this Jonas is…otherworldly. Tailored suit Jonas… He would make me do a double-take. Pearl Jam shirt Jonas? He’s making my underwear wet.
He winks at me, and it’s not the first, fifth, or last time I’ll be caught staring. This time, rather than look away, I stare back, unwavering.
“Hello?”
“Yeah, I think we’re going to call it an early night.”
“Probably for the best. Get some rest and feel better. We’re having an easy day out at the pool tomorrow.”
“Sounds good. Night, Mom.”
“Good night, mija.”
Still locked in a game of who-will-break-eye-contact-first, I hang up the phone, set it on the table in front of me, and stand.
“Do you want me to order you some food?” Jonas asks, reaching a hand out to me. “Or I can go out and get something if nothing at the hotel sounds good?”
I close the small patch of space between us. “Let’s go out.”
His lips pull up, but it doesn’t mask the confusion in his eyes. “I thought you still weren’t feeling well?”
“I feel much better. I just want to give you a break from them.” I wave one hand in front of my face, and realize my other hand is busy twisting my fingers between his.
When I look back at him, nothing more than an easy smile covers his face. For a moment, I wish I had the same effect on him that he seems to have on me, but I quickly erase the thought.
“There’s a hole in the wall taco shop just a block away. I saw it on my run this morning.”
“Well, twist my arm. Let’s go.” I drop our hands and dart inside, determined to forget whatever flicker of heat has begun blooming in me whenever our bodies make contact.
“Oh.Oh, you meant like aliteralhole in the wall.” I look around at the unsuspecting cement building, to a woman now smiling at us through the hole in the bright orange wall.
“Hola. Cómo estás?” Jonas smiles at the woman, and I’m taken aback by not only his fluent Spanish but his near-perfect accent.
“Bien, graci. Que puedo obtener para usted?”
“Tendre dos tacos de carne asda, por favor y—” He looks back at me.
“Pollo,” I murmur.
“Y dos pollo tacos, por favor,” he tells her, holding up his index and middle fingers.
“You speak Spanish?” I ask after he pays and we step away from the window, waiting for our food.
“Un poco.” He gives me that unbelievably charming smile of his and slides his money back into his wallet.
