Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain) (6 page)

“Maybe. Don’t hate me because I didn’t call. I was in the hospital!”

“I never expected you to call.” S
he stepped into the entrance way of the huge apartment, and watched him hop over and close the door behind her.

Cayetano gestured for her to turn right into the kitchen, and he hobbled without his crutches into the large room with her. The place was immaculate; the all-white marble kitchen sparkled in every corner of the room. They sat down on the stools along the island
counter in the centre of the kitchen. Cayetano was eager to rest his injured leg, and more eager to have the lovely lady next to him. “How did you find out I was married?” he asked.

“I saw your fight on the news. The presenter mentioned your wife was there.”

“I can see why you hate me. I didn’t mean to lie to you about so many things. It’s like you say, you don’t tell your life story on the first date.”

“Was it even a date?”

“Don’t ask me, it’s been years since I have been on one,” Cayetano half-smiled. He realised how pathetic that sounded. “I liked that you didn’t know who I was, and I didn’t want to ruin it. But I realise that was selfish, especially since you were very clear about who you are.”

“What do you mean that I didn’t know who you were?”

“I meet women, and they know me as the bullfighter, the famous guy. Their intentions are never genuine. My wife and I split eight months ago, and she moved out. But no one knows that, other than our families. But I’m single. It’s complicated.”

“Clearly,” Luna sighed. “I watched you hurt your leg. Did you really mess up with the bull because of exhaustion, as was suggested? They said that you were
late for preparation the day of the fight. This all happened because you were with me?”

“I knew what I was doing when I went out with you that night. Trust me, if a man is interested, he doesn’t care if he is busy the next day. He stays the night anyway.”

“You could have been killed.”

“It’s my job. Please don’t worry, I will be fine in a few weeks, and other than the public humiliation
and the anger of my father over me losing, there is no harm done.”

“That sounds like a lot of harm.”

“It hasn’t been my best few weeks, I will agree with you,” Cayetano said. He stood up from his seat and shuffled across the room to the fridge and opened it. “How about we have another date here in my kitchen? I suggest lunch.”

“You can cook?”

Cayetano pulled an enormous chocolate cake from the fridge. “Cake counts as lunch doesn’t it?”

Luna chuckled while he placed it on the counter between them, and pulled two forks from the drawer. “No, I can’t cook at all, I won’t lie,” he said. “My Mamá  made it and put it in my fridge.”

“Ah, a mother. That explains how a man can have such a beautiful home.”

Cayetano scoffed lightheartedly and pulled a bottle of red wine from the rack and sat back down with her. “As I said, my family is aroun
d me all the time. Mamá was only 15 when I was born, and she has been … how you say… sobrecompensando…”

“Overcompensating?”

“Sí, overcompensating my whole life, by trying to do a good job. My father, he is much older than her, and her family were not happy when they found their daughter was pregnant to a bullfighter twice her age. She felt she had to prove that Papá was good for her and that she could raise my little sister and me.”

“And your parents are still together now?”

“Sí, very much so. I work with my father and uncles every day, and my mother is the protector of everyone. And since María left me, she has fussed over me, even though I’m 40.”

“You’re her baby. Mothers will always love their sons.”

“Do you have a son?” Cayetano asked with caution.

“Two. They’re five years old.”

“Twins?”

“Yes.”

“Wow… that must be amazing. What are their names?”

“Giacomo was born a few minutes before Enzo.”

“Italian. Like their father,” Cayetano commented. “Luna, I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I mean… you told me all about Fabrizio’s death, and now I find you also have children.”

“Trust me, I didn’t tell you even half of the story. But… Fabrizio died only a few years ago, and it’s been hard. So when I threw myself at you the other week, it… forget it.”

“How can I forget it?”

“I’m angry at myself, not you, please don’t get me wrong. I feel guilty for cheating on my husband, and I know that sounds ridiculous…”

“Not really. At least when your wife of ten years cheats on you, you can kick her out without feeling bad. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you, to raise the children alone after the one you love dies.”

“I don’t raise them alone. My friend,
Darren, lives with me. He took Fabrizio’s place… on the cycling team. He is the boys’ godfather.”

“He is your… lover? Boyfriend?”

“No! No… maybe. Christ, I should go.”

Cayetano reached out and grabbed Luna’s hands when she stood up from her stool.  “Can I just say something first?”

“Okay.”

“I like you. I thought you liked me. I thought we had a good time. I had an amazing time. I just don’t know what to do, you’re a widow, and I didn’t know how far I could push. Then I had my accident, but if I hadn’t I would have called you. I want to see you again, but I can understand if you don’t like me.”

Luna stood on the spot, and watched the hopeful man before him. His eyes were so full of anticipation, those green flecks in the honey brown back again. What was it about this man? The second he touched her hands, the short, sharp shot of attraction and promise ran through her again. She had felt it every time she had thought about him, and that was a lot. Now she was here in his apartment, and for what? No one would ever know she was there, and now that he wasn’t married… “I like you,” she managed to say with her dry mouth, “in spite of myself.”

“I’
m just asking for you to… try my cake.” His voice was gentle and coaxed her closer to him.

Luna let him pull her into him, and she stood in between his legs that were balanced on the edge of the stool. A lock of his curly jet-black hair had fallen forward on his forehead and the curl begged to be twirled around her finger. She just had to tell herself that it was okay to like a man. Because she liked his one, whoever he was. “I will try your cake.”

“Good,” he said, and let her hands go. “If you don’t like Mamá’s cake, I can’t ask you out on a second date.”

“I thought this was a date.” She watched him stab a fork into the moist cake.

“Shh… it’s our little secret,” he whispered, and held the fork to her lips. “Go on.” He waited until she went to bite it and pulled it away and sniggered.

“That was mean.”

“I’m sorry,” he said in mock apology. “Try the cake.”

Luna tried to bite the cake off the fork, and he snatched it away again and laughed at the look on her face. “Fine, forget the cake,” she said. “I might go and get that train now.”

“Aww… come on,” he said and offered it again, but she didn’t budge. “Please?”

“No,” she said with a grin. “Keep it.”

“I’ll make you eat it.”

“How?”

Cayetano wrapped one arm around her waist, spun her around and held her back against him while she struggled. “Fight me all you want, preciosa. I do two hours in the gym every day. I will beat you.” He dug his fingers into her ribs and started to tickle her, which resulted in high-pitched shrieking while she tried to make him stop. “You need to beg for mercy,” he joked.

Luna grabbed the piece of cake off the fork and mashed it against Cayetano’s stubbled cheek and rubbed it into his skin. “How’s the cake?” she
asked.

“I’m going to make you eat it,” he replied, and let her go, and she turned to face him. “You know that, don’t you?”

“How, chase me on your crutches?”

Cayetano pulled her to him again, his hands firm on her back.
He could feel her heart pound against him. He was ravenous when he brought his lips to hers, and smothered her in his desire – and cake. Either her initial anger at him was gone, or she had channeled it, because the way she held herself to him and kissed showed no mercy at all. This was the girl that had been on his mind for the last two weeks. She was so different to what he was used to. She left Cayetano feeling upbeat and inspired about life. Luna was so beautiful that she would stop traffic, only she hadn’t noticed. He could pretend to be the well-known popular bullfighter and the occasional celebrity, and that would work well if he wanted to take home a soulless but attractive woman, and he had done that more times that he wanted to admit. But Luna didn’t know that man, and she didn’t ask about that life. She liked him for who he was himself – and Cayetano didn’t even know that man all that well. It was a pure attraction to each other, every complicated detail aside.

Cayetano reached out and fumbled on the counter until he found the cake, and stuck a finger into it. He brought his hand to her neck
and ran his cake-covered finger down her neck and chest, which made her pull away from him in surprise.

“You bastard!” she cried with a grin on her face.

“Don’t you like my cake?” He smirked at the chocolate smeared on her face.

Luna couldn’t help but laugh when she looked down at herself. “That was the best thing I have ever tasted. Cake isn’t bad either.”

“You like the famous Beltrán torta de diablo then?”

“Devil’s cake? I believe that. How am I supposed to go home covered in cake?”

“You don’t have to,” his deep voice said, and he brought his mouth to the smudge of cake on her throat. Her kissed her skin, and gently licked some of the chocolate icing from her body. A burning feeling shot through him when she sighed, letting his lips and his hands become lost on her. Maybe it was that they didn’t know each other, or that they, in fact, knew quite a few private details about each other, neither of them knew. There was an unquestionable attraction between them. He didn’t just want her, he wanted to know her, and talk to her, touch her, listen to her, to watch her, and none of it made any sense. Maybe that was the best part. They were a secret from the world, and none of it needed to make sense.

“Cayetano,” Luna muttered. She had her fingers in his hair as his lips trailed down her body. His fingers were nimble in undoing the
third button on her blouse. She knew that she needed to make him stop. The night she had met him, she had felt awoken for the first time in years, and today had the same effect. After a private adult life, to act like this with a stranger also brought out the worst emotion – guilt. “Cayetano,” she stuttered again. “I have to go.”

Cayetano brought his eyes to her, not worried in the least that his face was covered in chocolate. “You don’t,” he purred.

“I do. I’m not proud of what I did the other week, and… I don’t even know why I’m here…”

“Give me one reason why what we’re doing is wrong. Tell me that you don’t feel what is going on here.”

“I’m not ready to see anyone,” Luna said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I want.”

Cayetano sat back on his stool. He couldn’t argue with that. He couldn’t convince her, and he couldn’t persuade her. “Okay. I understand.” In all reality, it was moving
at a lightning pace for him. The pain that María had caused was still pretty fresh in his mind, and while one-night stands might be able to block it out for a moment, this was not the same. “What if I just suggested we wipe up the cake and you stay in the city, and we go out for lunch?”

“I need to go home to Valencia.”

“Why?”

“I want to see my children. I don’t like leaving them.”

“Of course, I’m sorry.” Cayetano got up awkwardly from his seat. He wet a cloth under the tap over the sink. “Who has them now?”

“
Darren does.”

“And
Darren is only your friend?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

Cayetano gently wiped her neck with the cloth, and the smudge of licked chocolate icing came off her pale skin. She let him rub her neck and chest, before he wiped her cheeks clean. Her young, fresh face enchanted him, and he didn’t realise that he was staring. He put the cloth down on the counter and gently pulled her to him again, to give her a deep and tender kiss, to which she returned. They just had to go slow with one another. Pleasure was as fragile as glass, she had said. Her heart seemed just as fragile, so much so that he was worried he would break it when he touched her. “If I let you go, will you promise me that you will go out with me again?”

“What about your leg, don’t you need to recuperate?” she asked,
her arms around his waist, her body tucked up into his.

“I would cut the bloody thing off for you,” he said through gritted teeth. He didn’t want to admit it, but the pain in his leg beat the desire he had for the woman in his arms. He would love to sever the entire limb to avoid the pain and take her to bed.

“I can see that you’re in pain,” she said while he wiped the cake from her face again. “You need to sit down.”