Catch Me in Castile (9 page)

Man, a gorgeous hottie fixing me breakfast? A girl could get used to that.

“What can I do?”

“You can tell me how you like your
huevos
.”

I coughed. “Isn’t that part of the male anatomy?”

He laughed out loud. “You’ve heard that expression? I meant your eggs. Scrambled okay?”

“Oh. Sure, however you’re making them is fine.”

I took our plates with the eggs and potatoes into the dining room. He followed behind with the rest. We sat at the table across from each other.

“It’s the first time I’ve beaten Maria out of bed,” I said.

“I doubt she’ll be up any time soon. She celebrated pretty hard last night.”

Laughing and cuddling up next to a handsome man at the end of the party, she had waved at me over his shoulder as I headed up the stairs to stumble into bed. Then to my surprise, she pointed at him and mouthed, “Jorge Lupes.”

Well, well, well, he was dessert after all
. I couldn’t wait to get the story from her later.

“What’s that you’re drinking?”

He pronounced it chok-o-la-tay. “Try this.” He dipped a long pastry into the thick-as-pudding drink.

“Mmm, chocolate. Breakfast of champions.”

He licked the thick brown goodness from his lips like a kid. “Rosa always makes this for me. It reminds me of good times we had when I was a boy.” His face was wistful.

“For me, it’s hot Cinnamon Spiced Tea. My mom made it for special times. Holidays, sick days, when Grandma came. Gosh, I miss Cinnamon Spiced Tea.”

“Maybe one day we can share recipes. My chocolate for your tea.”

“Throw in one of these pastry thingies and you’ve got a deal.” I tasted the
huevos
and
papas
. “Hey, you really can cook.”

“I can’t believe you doubted my skills.”

“You’re a man of many talents, Santiago.” I dipped my pastry into the chocolate.

“Maria will sleep the day away. Would you care to join me? I have this thing I do every Saturday morning.”

“Thing?” The pastry slipped from my fingers and stuck in the drink. “Care to elaborate?” I asked while I fished it out.

“Just a little something I do.” He crossed his arms and grinned at me.

“Ah. Tells me pretty much nothing. Intriguing. Yes, I would love to do the Saturday morning thing with you.”

“Great.” His eyes twinkled.

“Am I dressed properly for this top-secret adventure?” I had on my favorite butt-hugging Lucky jeans, a pink T-shirt with
Bebe
written across the chest and short black boots. It was my best attempt at casual-slash-smokin’.

From the look in his eye, I was successful.

“You look great.”

I took a choppy breath. “Thanks.”

He forced his gaze from mine by checking his watch. “Just about time to go. Are you ready?”

“Give me a couple minutes.”

I ran back upstairs, brushed my teeth and hair, dabbed on a little perfume, swiped on pink lipstick and raced outside.

“Oh no.” I stopped in my tracks. “We’re not going on
that
.”

“What? You’re afraid of motorcycles? It is the best way to get where we are going.”

“Where? Hell?”

“Ah, come on. Are you really afraid?”

I opened my thumb and pointer finger a pinch and peeked through the space. “An itsy-bitsy bit.”

He rubbed my shoulder and gazed sincerely into my eyes. “I’ll take care of you, Erin. I promise.”

And I thought, if you’ve got to go, it might as well be clinging to the broad back of a dreamy tall dark Spaniard with sparkling green eyes, surgeon hands and to-die-for lips.

I put my hand out, motioning toward the extra helmet. “All right. Let’s go do the thing.”

I shook my hair. “We’re going to watch a soccer game?”

“Watch? No.” He grinned. “Look, here comes the team now.”

A horde of young teenage boys filtered in through a narrow gate and stomped onto the field. A quiet moment turned loud with laughter, shouts and kid noises.

I smiled. “What’s this all about?”

“Those are my boys.” His smile was endearing. “I coach the Salamanca Devils, the local
fútbol
team. They’re good, really good. Haven’t lost a game this season. This year we’re going to the Junior Cup, I just know it.”

“That’s wonderful.”

His face was soft, caring. “Most of these kids come from tough backgrounds. No dads, poor grades, alcohol, abuses, low end of the economic scale. Bad stuff. But they all live and breathe
fútbol
. To play they must keep good grades, I won’t let them on the field unless they do.”

“Hi, men,” he called, turning his attention toward the approaching gaggle of twelve boys. “Ready to play?”

“Who’s the lady?” asked a light-haired boy who was kicking a ball up in the air and bouncing it on his head.

“Let me introduce my assistant coach for the day, Miss Carter.”

I shot a glance at him. Assistant coach? More like mascot. “Nice to meet you all.” The curious faces seared me up and down.

“All right, men, pick your teams and let’s get started.”

“We’re short, Coach,” a little guy with long dark hair complained. “Hector and Ramón are sick.”

A skinny redheaded boy coated with freckles piped up, “Yeah, their mom made them eat poison.” He grabbed his stomach and bent over in mock abdominal distress.

“Twin brothers with
food
poisoning,” Santiago explained. “I checked on them yesterday. They’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

Pretty soon all the boys were grabbing their stomachs. The morning air was pierced with a chorus of the crudest retching sounds ever made.

“Looks like an epidemic,” I said.

“Enough! We have a lady here today. Pretend like we know how to behave, okay?” The boys straightened up immediately.

“So what are we going to do, Coach?” The redhead asked. “We can’t play a full team without Hector and Ramon.”

“Well, I’ve got an idea if Miss Carter is willing.” Santiago’s smile was beyond mischievous.

“Oh, no you don’t.” I shook my head. “What do I know about soccer?”

“
Fútbol
,” he corrected. “We will teach you. Right men?”

“Sure, Coach Botello.” Their smiles were innocent, but those eyes sparked evilly. “We’ll show the lady.”

“Why do I feel like this is going to end badly?” I grumbled.

“Come on, Erin,” he said to me in English. “It will be fun. So what do you want to be skins or shirts?”

“What?”

“My team are skins. Miss Carter’s group is keeping their shirts on.” Santiago ripped his off. “Pick sides already and let’s play.”

With one glance at his glorious chest, ripped abs and perfectly defined pecs, I thought,
fútbol
? Yeah, I can do that.

I had no idea what I was doing, but if playing this game would keep Santiago running half-naked across the field then I’d do my best.

Five minutes into the game, a holy terror with short cropped black hair came straight for me. He dribbled the ball with his feet down the field while gunning for me. I stood my ground, ready to block him and make an attempt at the ball.

He was nearly on top of me when the kid passed the ball to his teammate. Strangely, though, he kept coming at me. Fast. He didn’t slow until he knocked me to the ground. Air huffed out of my chest as my butt made contact with the grass.

“Hey!” I yelled.

The boy shrugged at his teammates and walked a little taller when they all cheered. Apparently, flattening Assistant Coach Carter was the goal all along.

The blast from Santiago’s whistle made us all jump. “Foul! José Luis, what do you think you are doing?”

“Nothing, Coach.” The boy became smaller and more like his twelve years than the devil’s spawn who ran me down. “Just playing
fútbol
.”

Santiago gave me his hand and helped me up. “Are you all right?”

I was suddenly inches away from his muscular shirtless body. “Yeah, just a little—” my eyes lifted slowly from his glorious rippling abs, up that delicious chest to his concerned face, “—winded.”

He put a warm hand on my shoulder. “Do you want to quit?”

“What? Carters don’t use the Q-word.”
We prefer to crash and burn
.

“Penalty kick, Miss Carter. Take your shot.” Santiago glared at the boys to behave themselves.

I squinted my eyes at the goal, took a running start and kicked that sucker as hard as I could. Unbelievably, the ball shot past the goalie and straight into the net.

Santiago clapped. “All right, Miss Carter.”

The boys all sang in unison, “Goalllllll!”

The game continued and one of my teammates actually passed the ball to me. It was my chance. I ran down the field trying my best to dribble the ball as the boys had done. José Luis moved forward to block me.

“Perfect,” I said under my breath. “Bring it on.” I raced forward and bumped into his shoulder, leaving the ball behind me on the grass.

José Luis didn’t fall over because I purposefully didn’t hit him as hard as he walloped me. He stood there stunned, his mouth hanging open in astonishment.

Santiago’s whistle pierced the air again. “Miss Carter!” His face was full of shock mixed with admiration. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, Coach.” I cut my eyes toward the group of boys gathering around. “Just playing
fútbol
.”

Laughter erupted like a rash of explosions. I offered my hand to José Luis.

He faltered for a moment and then shook it. “I like this lady, Coach. She can be on my team next time.”

I smiled. “It’s a deal. Go on, take your free shot.”

Santiago shook his head. “You are one tough lady, Miss Carter.” The look on his face made my insides turn to mush.

“Yeah? You should have seen me about a month ago.”

When the match was over, we made our way toward the drinking fountains, the skins team tugging shirts over their heads as they walked.

The redheaded boy ran up next to us, matching our stride. “Where are you taking Miss Carter after this?”

Santiago gave me the head-to-toe once-over. “I don’t know, Javy, she looks a little tired.”

I checked out the damage. I had grass stains on the butt of my Lucky jeans, dirt embedded in my nails, and my hair was probably doing its own wild thing, but tired? “No. I feel great. Seriously. I can’t remember when I’ve had so much fun.”

“I’m glad. Not many women would want to come out here and go toe-to-toe with a bunch of twelve- and thirteen-year-old boys.”

“I’m not just any woman.”

He took a moment and studied my face, his eyes boring into mine. “I know,” he said softly. “That much, I know.”

“So?” asked Javy, the boy I’d forgotten was walking next to me. “Where are you taking her? She’s probably hungry—”

“Yeah, and thirsty too,” a skinny boy chimed in behind us.

“Someplace nice,” José Luis offered from the other side of Santiago and then blushed when I smiled at him.

“Hey, what’s this all about?” Santiago asked.

“Come on, Coach. You bring a nice lady to the field who can actually
play
fútbol
? Don’t you want to marry her or something?” a chubby kid said.

Santiago laughed. “Miss Carter does deserve a special lunch after all the hard effort she put in with you monkeys. How about it, Erin? Can I treat you?”

“Sounds wonderful. I am pretty hungry. And thirsty. Thanks boys, for a fun morning.”

“
Adiós
, Miss Carter. See you next time,” they called out as they filtered back out through the narrow gate. It was sad to see them go.

“Shall we be on our way?” He tucked his shirt back into his pants.

“Where?”

“The best place I can think of.”

“Pretty much tells me nothing. Is surprise the theme of the day?”

His eyes twinkled. “It might take a couple hours to get there.”

Hmm, clinging to that hunk of a man for two hours on his bike?
“Works for me.”

We were going sound-barrier-breaking fast. Any sane woman would be terrified out of her wits. Even if she was wrapped around a Spanish god who rode like he was one with the motorcycle. Santiago weaved us around cars on the congested two-lane highway. He’d confessed to being a national motorcycle champion in his younger days and hardly ever crashed.
Hardly ever
. Was that supposed to make me feel better?

It took a little while, but soon I began to enjoy the speed and the rush.

He pulled over to the side of the road, letting the cars whiz passed us. “We’re almost there,” he said loudly over his shoulder to me. “Keep your eyes open for an amazing sight.”

“Where are we going?”

“Segovia. I’ll give you the tour once we get off this highway.”

As we entered the city, he pulled onto a quieter street and parked the bike.

“Holy smokes! What’s that?” I pointed toward an intricate structure several stories high, arches upon arches as far as my eyes could see.

He grinned. “Amazing, right? It’s the largest and best-preserved Roman aqueduct of its kind in the world. And it still works. The coolest thing? None of those stone blocks are held together by mortar or concrete.”

Cool, yes, but it didn’t compare with his eyes glowing with excitement. A girl could be bowled over by so much boyish exuberance. Those dimples brought a punch of heat to my belly.

“Wow,” I said, and meant it.

He got off the bike and took my hand. “There’s so much I want to show you.”

We walked hand in hand down the cobblestone streets through romantic coves and hideaways.

“Hear that?” he asked. “The bells from the sixteenth century cathedral still call worshippers to mass. No matter what direction you come into Segovia, you can see it. I think the bishops wanted to make sure God was the first and last thing on your mind when you arrived here.”

“Has anyone ever told you what a wonderful tour guide you are?”

“You’re the first person I’ve taken on this tour.”

“Really? I love this city.” Happiness threatened to burst out of my chest. “It’s so old, modern, romantic.”

“I’ve been here many times.” He put his arm around my shoulders. “But this is my favorite.”

Mercy!
My heart pounded
.

“Hungry? The restaurant I’m taking you to is world-famous for paella.”

“Starved.”

When we got there, the restaurant was packed and my stomach was already eating itself. I didn’t know how much longer I could wait before I passed out.

He held up a finger, motioning for me to wait outside. Through the windows I saw him lean over the podium and whisper into the hostess’s ear. The hostess was far too pretty, with her gazelle legs and short skirt. Jealousy punched me in the gut when the pretty young thing threw her arms around Santiago’s broad shoulders and hugged him.

“What the—?” I snapped my mouth shut and moved away from the window as he made his way back through the crowd to little old normal-legged me.

“It’s our lucky day.” Santiago pointed to a table being cleared next to the window.

“What did you have to do, give up a kidney?” I whispered as we walked passed the line.

“Nothing so dramatic,” was all he’d say.

The hostess stood by the table beaming at him.

My word, she is young. And gorgeous. And curvy.

“Thank you, Daniela, this is great,” he said.

She handed us the menus as we sat. “If there is anything more you need…” She gave Santiago’s shoulder a little rub. “Anything…” The word hung in the air.

Heat rose in my cheeks. My fists balled under the table.
Hello?
I’m sitting right here.

She turned her dark eyes toward me for the first time. “Doctor Botello saved my brother’s life. My family will always be in his debt. Enjoy your meal.”

He watched her walk away. “Nice girl.”

“Indeed.” I smiled at him. “And quite pretty.”

“Yes, she’ll be a beauty when she grows up.”

When she grows up
. Man, I liked this guy.

“Hey, your back is to the window. You can’t see the great view from there.” I pointed to the segment of the Roman aqueduct arches framed by the window.

“Not true. I have the best view in the place.” He was looking at me.

I blushed and opened the menu. “Uh-oh.”

His black eyebrows notched up.

“Having a little trouble understanding some of these Spanish dishes.” I lifted the menu. “For example, what is
morcilla
?”