Page 26 of From LA to London, With Love

“His dog was sent there by mistake, and he’s going to find him. He wants me to come because I speak Spanish, and so I can help with his British accent so he doesn’t get too far behind. And for company too. He’s planned it all meticulously. Business class tickets and two rooms, one with a cot for Elliot, at a five-star hotel, which looks incredible.” I’d Googled it as soon as I got off the phone with Chris. It looked more luxurious than anywhere I’d ever stayed. “He also arranged for a chauffeured car with a baby seat to pick us up from the airport and drive us around. He’s booked for three days because he’s not sure how long it’ll take to find his dog. If we go, I’ll need to pack right now. What do you think, should we go?”

Chris had made it clear there was absolutely no pressure on us to come. He said everything he’d booked was refundable, but I suspected he was just saying that to make me feel better if I decided not to go.

“That all sounds great. But you’re not convinced. Why not?” I could hear Josh chewing on his lunch.

“I’m so torn. On one hand, spending three days alone with a man I’ve suddenly developed strong feelings for doesn’t sound like a great idea, especially when he’s not interested in me—and I’m not sure I’d want to date him even if he was. I’m also not sure how Elliot will take to traveling. He might hate it and make the entire trip really stressful. But then, I’ve always wanted to go to Barcelona. And while I’ve been too anxious to travel with Elliot so far, with Chris planning everything and being there too, it seems more manageable.”

More than manageable, in fact. Appealing. The private car meant I didn’t need to worry about maneuvering Elliot and the pram on and off public transport. Having Chris there to lug bags around and help with everything else would make it so much easier.

“And despite my feelings for Chris, I do enjoy his company. A lot. It might be good for Elliot to be exposed to a different environment. And did I mention the hotel looks incredible…”

Josh snorted. “I think you’ve just convinced yourself. But if you don’t want to go, please tell Chris I’m more than happy to accompany him. I’ll gladly throw all my energy into pet detecting if it means I can holiday with him in Spain. Just let him know separate rooms aren’t necessary.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes. “You’re right, I’ve convinced myself. I’m gonna do it. I’d better call Chris then. Thanks for picking up. I knew I could count on you to help!”

I sprang into action and started packing, calling Chris on speakerphone to let him know Elliot and I were both in.

* * *

“Excuse me, could I please have some more wah-tah?”

I choked on my own water, trying to suppress my laughter. To make up for missing his voice coaching lessons while we were away, Chris had decided to speak in his British accent for our entire trip. Despite his concerns, he was doing a great job. However, the shock of hearing him speak in perfect Queen’s English when I was used to his relaxed, American drawl kept threatening to send me into hysterics.

We were on the plane, flying over Spain. Chris had been updating me on his progress canine sleuthing.

“So, don’t laugh. My lawyer hired a private investigator specializing in missing pets–apparently pet detectives are actually a thing–and he’ll start looking for Alfie tomorrow morning. He’ll come to our hotel first thing so we can give him a briefing.” Chris had been propping Elliot up against the inside of the plane so he could see the clouds out the window. Now, Chris was sipping his water while Elliot, sitting on his lap, tried to bite one of Chris’s fingers. It killed me how cute Elliot and Chris were together. Ever since Josh’s accident, they’d been getting along like a house on fire. And if I kept going with the fire analogy, seeing them together really poured oil on the flames of my feelings for Chris. I was glad he’d booked three seats, even though we only needed two, because Elliot had to be on our lap most of the flight. The plane ride would have been excruciating if we’d been pressed up close together. It was bad enough as it was.

“When we get off the plane, why don’t we make a few enquiries at the airport, just in case we can fast-track the search? My Spanish skills were one of the reasons you invited me, so we might as well put them to good use and see if we can get anywhere this afternoon.”

I wanted to do as much as I could to help find Alfie. Chris didn’t seem his usual cheerful self, and it was clear he was worrying about his dog. I desperately wanted to see the sadness in his deep brown eyes replaced with their normal sparkle.

“Sure, that would be great, if you’re up for it. Ouch!” Chris’s smile turned into a grimace as Elliot chomped hard on his thumb with his three teeth.

The plane landed smoothly. Just like at Heathrow, a few travelers did a double-take when they saw Chris, nudging their companions and staring, but to my relief we weren’t swarmed by fans like Chris had warned me might happen. He’d had his bodyguard accompany us through Heathrow, just in case, but hadn’t made arrangements for Barcelona airport.

Once we got our bags and popped Elliot into the pram, we headed toward the service desk where a friendly airline employee greeted us. In Spanish, I explained our rather unusual predicament to the man who, according to his name badge, was called Carlos. I sensed Chris looking at me, impressed as the words rolled off my tongue, and couldn’t help feeling pleased with his reaction. Spanish was coming back to me more quickly than I expected.

Carlos, a dog lover, was very sympathetic to Alfie’s plight, shaking his head and apologizing on behalf of the airline. He showed us a picture of his own dog, a slightly manic-looking Chihuahua called Gloria Estefan.

“Awwww,” Chris and I said at the same time.

“Please wait a minute. Let me see what I can do,” he said, before disappearing through a door behind him.

“Did he just say that terrifying Chihuahua was called Gloria Estefan?” Chris whispered in his British accent, sounding like a befuddled Oxbridge professor, as soon as Carlos left.

I couldn’t help laughing. “Wow, you are really committing to this whole British accent thing. And yes, that’s exactly what he said.”

“You should be lucky I’m not going full method actor on you and behaving like an arrogant duke circa 1815,” he whispered, close to my ear. His breath gently tickled my cheek and sent a tingle down my body. More than one tingle. A lot of tingles… Oh god.

Was he being flirtatious, or was it all in my head? And why was the idea of him being a self-entitled duke turning me on? Gross, Sophie. Self-entitled men were usually everything I hated.

Carlos reemerged, smiling. He ushered us through the door and into a small, dark room filled with screens. A man hunched over them, studying them intently. He looked up and briefly acknowledged us before turning back to the images.

“Francisco will look for the recording of your dog being picked up. You said it was this morning, around seven a.m.?”

I nodded.

Francisco fast-forwarded through CCTV footage of the cargo area, where pets and other packages that weren’t accompanied by passengers were sent. Large suitcases, strangely shaped packages, and some smaller crates appeared. He paused when a larger crate arrived and zoomed in.