Chapter 9 #2
“Exactly,” Alma said firmly. “You will not get hurt again. I won’t let it happen.”
But maybe since Grace was absolutely not interested in a relationship—maybe a night spent across the hall in the bedroom of the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world…
No. Nope. No way. Bad idea, Grace.
She would take heed of Alma’s warning; she would tuck it away in the back of her mind just in case. Rafael was her temporary roommate. He was her best friend’s brother. He was still a little stuck-up. And there was no way she would get involved with him.
A few days later, when Grace emerged from her bedroom after a surprisingly restful siesta, Raf was sitting at the kitchen counter with his laptop open in front of him and his head in his hands.
She padded over to him, trying to figure out what he was doing. “You okay?”
“Uggghhhhh.”
“Doesn’t sound good.”
“Trying to learn about art so I can put it up on the textured walls of a dark little cave.” He lifted his head and looked over at her hopefully. “You here to save me?”
She pursed her lips together, trying to seem annoyed, but he looked kind of cute when he was flustered. He was always so confident and in control, but Grace could appreciate his grumpy, floundering, vulnerable side.
“Let me see what you’re working with.”
Raf opened a file on his computer, and a gallery of pictures of some of Christian’s paintings appeared on the screen. The first one he clicked on was a self-portrait of Picasso.
“Christian owns all of these?”
Rafael’s mouth quirked up to the side. “I knew it.”
“What?”
“I knew you’d be impressed. I knew you couldn’t resist having access to history like this. Don’t deny it.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m impressed. You caught me.”
“And you’re dying to help me out?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Raf clicked the mouse, and another painting lit up on his laptop screen. “Christian says this is by Maruja Mallo. Ever heard of her?”
Grace smiled. “I’ve heard of her.”
“And she was a…cubist?”
“She was a surrealist. This is so vibrant, isn’t it?” She was staring at the wild colors, completely transfixed.
When she remembered Rafael was still there and glanced over, he was grinning at her like a kid who knew he was about to get his way after throwing a tantrum. He knew exactly what he was doing—making the catch, reeling her in—and Grace knew it, too.
Besides the mention of Picasso, Grace had been unaware of what else Christian’s collection had to offer.
But a Mallo? Grace clicked the mouse and saw the next photograph.
A new pallet of colors spilled across the screen.
It was a piece by Maria Blanchard. The opportunity to see these paintings in person, to get to study them up close for herself without anyone else there, to bask in their presence…
Rafael was right. It would be a dream come true for her.
Perhaps Grace had judged Christian too quickly for his obsession with Picasso.
There was more to his collection than she’d ever anticipated.
Maybe she still wouldn’t have any clue what to do with it, and maybe she was still just an amateur who’d be playing at curator despite a complete lack of experience, but Rafael was spiraling, and he was only asking for her ideas and input.
It wasn’t like she’d committed to anything more than that.
“I think I’d like to see the venue,” she announced with a small nod, trying to infuse her voice with a certainty she didn’t quite feel.
Rafael jerked his head up; his eyes went wide. “Seriously? That would be amazing, Graciela. Thank you.”
She hesitated, surprised again by his enthusiasm for her help. “I’m still not making any promises. I might take one look at the place and have nothing to offer.”
“I completely understand. No pressure.” He was excited, though. She could see it in his eyes. He touched her hand, and Grace’s face went blank from shock. The air almost crackled with energy all around them.
Rafael seemed to remember himself, and he turned back to the computer, fingertips hovering over the keys instead of against her skin.
Ding!
Grace startled as Rafael’s ridiculously high-volume phone chime echoed through the room. “That’s quite a notification,” she commented when her heart rate slowed again.
“Don’t want to miss any important business.” He glanced at the screen and gave it a few quick taps before releasing a heavy sigh.
“Everything okay?”
“It’s nothing,” Raf said. “Just an email from my father.”
“He emails you?”
“It’s the method of correspondence that works best for us. It’s always the same thing, ‘stop messing around with your life, and come work at this big, important job instead.’”
Grace grimaced. She could relate to part of this.
Her mother only communicated in sporadic text messages, and usually only when she wanted something.
An update on any items of interest in Gram’s will, for instance.
That was expected. However, it would have been the shock of Grace’s life if her mother reached out to pester her about career opportunities.
Becky Cameron couldn’t very well try to push Grace into pursuing bigger goals when she was hardly doing anything herself.
“Don’t you own your own company?” Grace asked. “It’s not like you’re an embarrassment to your family.
Rafael shrugged, but the vulnerability that flashed across his face carved out a little tender spot in Grace’s heart before she could think better of it.
“I am an embarrassment to my family, actually. There’s no living up to Simón’s expectations,” he explained. “All you can do is come to terms with it.”
“Have you?” Grace chewed on the nail of her pinky finger and studied him more closely. “Come to terms with it?’
Rafael turned back toward his computer again, focusing on the screen with a quiet determination. “Let’s see what else Christian owns that might interest you, shall we?”
The drive to Sacromonte only took about thirty minutes, but Grace felt like they were traveling through time.
There was a narrow road that skirted the edge of a cliff, and she was clinging to the side of Rafael’s car with white knuckles even while she was gasping at the gorgeous views.
The houses, the hills, the bright whitewashed buildings—all of it was like something from a story book, so beautiful and unique she could hardly believe it was real.
Every time they rounded a corner there was a new landscape to behold.
The greenest trees sprouted from the hillside, flashes of the whole city visible from way up there, as if they were on the edge of the world looking over everything.
Rafael kept glancing over to gauge her reactions, which she found flattering and frustrating at the same time.
“Keep your eyes on the road!” she yelled when he took a corner too quickly for her liking.
“Oh, you want to drive next time?” he asked with a grin.
“Not even a little.” She could see how this place held a great appeal for Rafael’s client. Besides how beautiful and extraordinary it all was, it also felt tucked away and hard to get to. Something special. Something secret. Just what he was looking for.
“Look at that!” Grace called, pointing.
Rafael jerked the wheel in alarm before straightening it out and following her gaze. “You know what that is, Graciela?” he asked, tilting his chin toward her and trying to hide his smile.
“A pomegranate tree,” she said, laughter bubbling out of her at the sight of the big, beautiful plant. It had become a scavenger hunt to her now, and she’d spotted several carvings and plaques with pomegranates, but this was the first time she’d noticed a whole, real-life tree.
“It takes one to know one, Little Pomegranate,” Raf said, his accent even thicker than usual as he enunciated the English words.
The sweetness and familiarity of it seemed to seep into her skin.
It was hard to believe he’d practically had to force her to come here, to this magical place of caves and pomegranate trees.
She was in love with it already, and she hadn’t even set foot inside the exhibit space.
The truth was Grace was having fun. She was having fun riding along in the car while enjoying the views.
She was having fun finding pomegranates everywhere as if this was her new mission in life.
She was having fun with Rafael, and it surprised her as soon as she recognized the feeling.
It had been a long time since she’d truly enjoyed herself, but she wasn’t sure quite what to make of the revelation.
“I don’t think anyone’s here right now,” Rafael said as they pulled up to a small building at the end of a road that looked similar to the others—which meant stark white and curving into the side of a cliff with little windows surrounding a peach-colored door.
It was difficult to determine how large the place was since it was built on the side of a hill.
How deep underground did this thing go? she wondered, staring with her mouth agape.
“We can take a look around so you can get a feel for the place, and then a van is coming with some of the art later on.”
Grace shuddered at the thought of a big van on the narrow roads. She wondered how many trips it would take to get all the paintings to the cave.