Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Esteban
The house is quiet again. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your thoughts louder, heavier, harder to ignore.
I lean against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. The dishes are clean, the counters wiped, the fridge neatly packed with enough rice and beans to feed an army.
I walk to my room and sit down on my bed thinking about her.
After cooking, laughing, and pretending not to be attracted to Eva for the evening, I should be exhausted. But I’m wide awake. My brain’s buzzing, my chest feels too tight, and my bed, though freshly made, looks less inviting than usual. Because she’s not here.
God, that woman got under my skin so fast I didn’t even see it coming.
One minute she’s walking into my house, throwing around compliments about the kitchen like she’s not completely throwing me off…
and the next, I’m mentally bookmarking the exact way her eyes lit up when she said, “I love tostones.”
I scrub a hand down my face and let out a long breath.
It was supposed to be a fake date.
Just a fun dinner to help us build our story, get the details straight and make sure we don’t look like total strangers when we fly to Florida in two weeks and start selling the world the lie of “Esteban and Eva: Happily Engaged.”
And yet…
I had fun. Too much fun. The kind of fun that feels dangerous.
She laughed at my jokes. Flirted back, unless I imagined that part, which maybe I did.
But man, the way she looked at me when I told her I made the food?
That little smile she gave me before taking a bite?
And then the moan that followed, like I’d just served her heaven on a plate? That wasn’t fake. No way.
The worst part was how my body reacted to her.
I had to work way too hard to hide the erection that hit me both times she moaned.
Once for the food, and once when she went all dramatic and said I’d won her over with fried plantains.
I never thought watching someone eat my food could get me hard, but she pulled it off like it was nothing.
Just sat there, looking all gorgeous and sexy and completely unaware of the effect she had on me.
Or maybe she knew. Hell, maybe she meant it. I don’t know. And that’s the problem.
Because yeah, I’m a flirt. I own that. It’s basically my second language. But tonight felt different. I wasn’t just tossing lines for fun. I was trying. And not just because I need her help with McNeal. Which I do. Badly.
If we land this ski resort deal, it’ll change everything for Noah and me. So yeah, Eva’s help is priceless.
But tonight wasn’t about the business. Not really. It was about the way she crinkled her nose when she read my messy handwriting. The way she made fun of me for joking that she proposed. The way she told me her dreams like I was someone she could trust with them.
And damnit now I’m lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling like some teenager with a crush.
I even cleaned my damn bathroom just in case she peeks in there tomorrow when she comes over to show me how to use skin care.
Because apparently, I’m the kind of guy who’s willing to rub stuff on his face if it means he gets to be near her a little longer.
A serum. A toner. A hydrating mist. Whatever the hell she brings. I’m in. Like, all in.
I roll over, punch my pillow once like that’s gonna knock some sense into me and close my eyes. But all I see is Eva. I hear her voice. Her laugh. Don’t get me started on her damn smile.
Fake fiancée or not, I think I might be in trouble. If Noah notice that I really like his sister, he will kill me and I don’t want to have a fight with my best friend. I need to stay focused on what’s important and not loose myself in her.
I’ve failed miserably today.
My plan? Focus on work. Be productive. Keep my head down and stay the hell out of my feelings.
In reality, I’ve done nothing but think about Eva since the moment I woke up. Her laugh, the way she teased me. It’s pathetic. I even tried to act cool around Noah, but I’m pretty sure the man suspects something is off with me.
Thankfully, he didn’t say anything. Probably saving it for the next time we’re out fishing so he can roast me properly.
Now I’m standing here, watching the clock. I told myself I wouldn’t go overboard today. No fancy dinner. Just some spicy crab dip and a batch of tostones because I know she loved them last night. Something casual. Friendly. Easy.
Totally not a date.
Except… I may or may not have trimmed my beard this morning. And yeah, I put on cologne. Not a lot. Just enough. I didn’t throw on a nice shirt, either—just a plain fitted tee and joggers. Comfortable. Relaxed.
Still… I checked the mirror more than once before sitting down. Because even if this thing between us is fake, she’s real. And I like having her around more than I should.
Now all that’s left is waiting for the knock on the door. Or the ding of her car door outside. Or any sign that she’s here and this ridiculous nervous energy in my chest can finally chill the hell out.
There’s a knock at the door and suddenly I forget how to breathe.
I take a second to check myself in the reflection on the closest window—because I’m not ridiculous—and then open the door.
Eva’s standing there with a giant tote bag slung over one shoulder, her cheeks pink from the cold.
She's wearing jeans that hug her legs in a way that makes my thoughts very unholy, and a soft-looking cream-colored sweater tucked in at the waist. Over it, she’s bundled up in a tan beannie with a fuzzy ball on top. Cute. Way too cute.
“Hey,” she says, smiling like we didn’t spend half of last night fake planning our engagement.
“Hey,” I manage, stepping aside to let her in. “Do you always carry around your entire apartment?”
She laughs, brushing past me, and the second she slips off her coat, the fruity scent of her shampoo hits me like a damn truck.
Strawberries or peaches or something summery and bright.
Her hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, and I suddenly have this completely inappropriate urge to touch it.
Just to see if it feels as soft as it looks.
Down, boy.
“This?” she lifts the tote dramatically. “This is my mobile empire. Tripod, ring light, camera stuff, some skincare samples, a water bottle, snacks, chargers—basically everything but a fire extinguisher.”
“No extinguisher?” I raise an eyebrow. “What if your moisturizer combusts?”
“I like to live dangerously.” She grins.
“Food’s on the counter,” I tell her, gesturing towards the kitchen. “Grab a plate before your empire collapses under its own weight.”
She sets the tote down with a dramatic sigh and heads toward the food. “Mmm, is that spicy crab dip?”
“Yup. And more tostones because I’m apparently trying to win your love through fried food.”
She takes a bite, groans, and does this little happy dance that makes me want to kiss the food for being the reason she’s making that sound. “Esteban, this is insane. I might have to come here every day just to eat.”
“I’d support that life decision,” I say, pouring us drinks like I’m not internally spiraling.
Once we sit down, she reaches into the tote again and starts pulling things out like Mary Poppins. “So, I thought we could film a skincare basics segment for my page. I’ll introduce the new men’s line I’m testing, and you’ll be my charming model.”
I lift a brow. “You sure about that? I don’t know if charming is my default setting.”
“Please,” she snorts. “You flirt like it’s your full-time job. You’ll be great.”
“Maybe it’s different with you,” I say, softer this time, holding her gaze. “Maybe I really want to impress you. Maybe I flirt because I actually like you.”
She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head like I’ve just said something ridiculous, and starts setting up the table as if my words mean nothing. But I can tell she heard me. The flush creeping up her neck gives her away.
She sets up the tripod and ring light with practiced ease, her hands moving confidently. I watch her, the way her face lights up when she’s in her zone, and for a second, I forget we’re playing pretend. Because this is real. She’s real.
“Okay,” she says, motioning to a chair she’s dragged in front of the light. “Sit, pretty boy.”
I smirk but obey. “Only because you asked nicely.”
She hits record on her phone and slips instantly into content creator mode, voice smooth, expression bright, her energy electric. “Hey guys! I have a special guest today, this is Esteban who’s letting me test out the new men’s line I’ve been working on.”
I should be paying attention to what she’s saying.
I really should. But I’m too busy watching her.
She’s completely focused, brushing products onto my face with light fingers, explaining each step to the camera.
Her fingertips graze my cheek and jaw and suddenly I’m hyperaware of every breath, every inch of space between us.
Then she leans in to dab something along my brow line. She’s so close, her face inches from mine, eyes narrowed in concentration. I could kiss her. Right now. Lean forward, close the gap, and find out if her lips are as soft as they look.
But I don’t.
Because Noah will kill me.
Because I can’t screw this up.
Even if everything about her feels dangerously real.