My big sunglasses and cap hide my face from people on the beach. Venturing out into the wild was a risky but necessary decision. The last thing I need is to meet Santiago in my apartment and further propel the rumors.
“I was surprised to hear from you,” Santiago smirks as he sits on the chair across from me. He’s also hiding as much of himself as possible. Especially the eight-pack he had on display yesterday. What a shame.
“Were you really?” I lift my brows though he can’t see them behind my shades. “After the rumors, I thought you’d expect it.”
“I hoped for it.” There’s that smirk again. “And I wouldn’t call it a disaster. Es el destino.”
“El what?”
“Destino,” he accentuates each syllable for my Spanish-lacking brain. “Destiny.”
“Not sure if it’s destino but nice try.” The smile he gives me for using the Spanish word yells trouble. Where’s the red abort button?
“I always have good aim. My goals record is one of the highest in the league. The fact that I missed my shot and hit your head…” he leans back with his arms behind his head. “El destino.”
“Moving on. I’m afraid this video and rumors are going to cause me trouble.” I lean forward on the table, elbows resting on it.
“I do like trouble.”
“Not that kind.” I take a deep breath. He didn’t have to say it for me to know that Santiago is a fan of trouble, the messy kind that gets sand in all the wrong parts.
Stop it, Noel.
“What can I do?” He tilts his head, all ears.
“Is there a way you can use your own platform to douse these rumors?”
“I’ll do my best.” He mirrors me, leaning forward. I can see a glimpse of his eyes through the dark glasses by the way the sun is reflecting on them. It’s a tiny peek into what he’s hiding from everyone else as if nature is working its magic on our destiny.
Great, now he has me believing this.
“Although…” A devilish smirk shadowed by his cap makes my heart race. He’s got danger written all over him, and I’m ignoring warning bells blaring for me to escape.
“Dramatic pause has served its purpose. What were you going to say?”
“Santiago!” We both whip our heads to the side to find a group of people smiling and holding up their phones. I’ve only been famous by association for a few hours, but looking at them is clearly a rookie mistake. Never let anyone know you’re who they think you are.
Santiago mumbles something under his breath in Spanish and presses his lips together. This isn’t going to help dissolve the rumors. Chances are, people will think he's lying to keep our privacy.
“Vamos.” Santiago grabs my hand, waves at the crowd, and takes purposeful strides away from them while I keep up with his long legs. I'm not short, but my average height doesn’t compare to Santiago’s.
I keep my head down as he guides me while screams and questions tail us. His hand tightens around mine, calloused and safe. I try not to focus on how it feels because this isn’t the moment to think about romance.
My breath swooshes out of me when he takes a sharp right and then a left. My shoulder brushes against a stone wall, and I wince at the stinging pain. Before I can think about it, my back hits a wall with Santiago next to me. His chest rises and falls quickly.
“I think we lost them,” his accent is heavier, and it does things to me that no accent should.
I remove my cap, no doubt sporting some crazy hat hair, but I need to fan myself because running from a crowd in a hilly town when the weather is in the high nineties is enough for a heatstroke.
While I fan myself, I hang my sunglasses from the top of my shirt. Santiago chuckles, removing his own disguise and finally giving me a glimpse of his face. His eyes shine like the sky.
“Running in this heat should be forbidden.”
“We had to make an escape.” His eyes scan me and furrow. He reaches out and touches my shoulder with gentleness. “You got hurt.”
I look down at my scraped shoulder. It seems like all I do lately is get injured. “It’s okay.” His fingers continue to caress around the cut. I glance up at him, taking in his full lips and beard, the definition in his neck and chest.
I catch sight of his tattoos, random things filling the canvas on his arm that flow together, including the Olympic rings, Roman numerals, and a rose.
While I’m distracted by his ink, Santiago shifts, stroking his thumb over the scrape. I tense and look up at him with wide eyes.
“We should clean it up.”
“It looks worse than it is. I’m more worried about the group of people who noticed us. No doubt this will fuel the rumors.” All I wanted was a relaxing vacation on the beach where I could disconnect for a few weeks.
“We can still make your vacation amazing,” he smirks as if he’s read my mind. “If you let me help.”
As I stare into his eyes, I know that I’m going to agree with anything he says. Warning bells be damn.