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“Not a sane one.”
“See! It’s mutual then. You help him, he helps you. Now...if you want his help in the bedroom, I’m sure he’d be happy to oblige as well.”
“I can’t anymore with you!”
“Holy shit!” Brooke gasps.
“What?”
“You didn’t tell me his sister is Maya Slade! She’s YouTube famous. I watched her vlog last year when I was manifesting a trip to Switzerland.”
“What?” With every new piece of information that comes to light about Santiago Alatorre, a year is shaved off my life.
“She does a bunch of travel and lifestyle videos. I didn’t connect Santiago’s name and hers when you mentioned him! Oh my God. Noah fucking Slade!” Brooke screams a string of words into the phone. “That’s it, I’m packing my bags. You need a partner-in-crime, and I straight up just need a partner. They have to have some hot, famous friend for little old me.”
I laugh up to the ceiling, loving Brooke for erasing my concerns about seeing Santiago tonight. “If you come here, you’ll never leave.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
16
Chloe
Tonight is nothing like my last visit. For starters, Marko abandons me the moment I step into the house. He sits on the living room couch with his eyes glued to the television. His absence makes Santiago’s presence that much more daunting, like a dark force swallowing me whole. I, for one, am afraid of some unsupervised time with the tall man who checks all my boxes and then some.
He leads me into his luxurious kitchen. The smells coming from the stove and oven have me salivating. It’s nothing I’m used to.
Santiago knowing how to cook completely disarms me in a new kind of way. I lean against the counter, captivated by him cutting up onions like he’s a hot Spanish version of Gordon freaking Ramsey. His arms flex with every movement. The five minutes I spend drooling on the counter solidifies my commitment to binging every cooking show available on TV. Screw Love Island, I’m here for the kitchen island.
Thank God I have him locked down as a fake boyfriend. He shouldn’t be allowed in the dating world with talents like his.
I laugh to myself at my possessiveness over something unreal.
He looks up from the cutting board. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing,” I say to his straining bicep.
He tightens his hold on the knife, forcing the muscles in his arm to flex.
My cheeks warm as I lift my gaze, catching his eyes. “I didn’t know you could cook. Like really cook, you know, with fancy knives and real vegetables.”
“I’m almost scared to ask what you mean by ‘real vegetables.’” He fake shudders.
“Hey, don’t judge. I’m not talented in the kitchen so I make do with the frozen stuff.”
“Frozen stuff? Why would you do that?”
“Here’s a rough summary: I burn bread.”
The laugh he lets out makes goosebumps spread across my skin. “That’s like my sister. She couldn’t find her way through a kitchen if you gave her step-by-step instructions and a video tutorial.”
“I’d burn the guide and call for takeout. It sounds like the safest option for everyone involved.”
“Are you willing to learn?”
“To cook?” I ogle him while licking my bottom lip. The idea of Santiago teaching me something domestic has me practically panting.
His eyes darken as they drop to my tongue. “Can you stop doing that? It’s distracting.” He drags his thumb across my bottom lip, drying it.
