Chapter 18

18

T hey stayed at the bar for a little longer, giving in to the urgency to keep staring at each other and sneaking in a few words about themselves—Luke had grown up in Islington and was paying an indecent amount to rent a cramped studio north of there, and Sol had grown up in Sant Antoni but she'd left Barcelona in her midtwenties.

It was her sixth night in the city and by then, Sol had lost count of how many times she'd felt perfectly content and at ease since landing in her hometown. And that was despite the fact that she was now not only unemployed but also cash-strapped. Barcelona soothed her soul in a way no other place could.

But even when the company, and the sights, couldn't get hotter, she couldn't keep warm as the night got chillier.

"Any chance you still feel like walking me home today?" she asked Luke, unsure what made her so bold.

She'd never been too much of an initiator. Both her ex-husbands were absolute opposites with not a single trait, thought, or opinion in common but would agree on that—and probably only on that.

She'd been younger when she'd met both of them. She was a different Sol now, a self-confident one. She also liked herself more than she'd ever done—and didn't care what others thought about her.

"I'm always up for a walk in the right company," Luke replied, and she could sense his charm being turned up.

"My place is very close, so it's going to be a short walk. But it has some killing views." For a moment, she didn't know whether they were still talking about strolling or if the conversation had moved to a more sex-adjacent level.

"Never been opposed to short walks with the promise of sightseeing," Luke said.

Definitely sex-adjacent.

"It's really just a few blocks down," Sol said as they strolled the tile-paved, pedestrianized street alongside the busy sidewalk terraces and the warmly lit interiors of bars and restaurants still in the middle of late dinner service.

Luke thought that, unlike two days before, she seemed to need to make conversation and fill the void instead of opting for a silent walk.

"No need for a long stroll, really," he said. Perhaps he also preferred to busy himself with words instead of opting for a quietness that felt loaded. "I went running this morning, and I've been walking around even more than in London. So I'm good for steps."

"It's good to get those in!" Sol sounded deceived at her own lack of imagination, not being able to come up with more inspired talking topics. "It's here," she finally said, sounding almost relieved, pointing to a glass and metal door. She started rummaging through a handbag that couldn't have room to carry more than a few credit cards and a phone and yet she seemed to have problems finding something inside it. "?Dónde están las llaves?"

After a few more seconds of insistent searching, she unearthed an almost exaggerated set of keys. She chose one among them and unlocked the building's street door only to fumble with the set a second time, identify a new key, and open yet another door before they could make their way to a barren entrance hall and from there a narrow lift.

When the doors to the lift closed, they found themselves standing one in front of the other, not even ten centimeters between their bodies. From that distance, he could smell her—flowery but not overly sweet, woodsy but delicate at the same time, and intoxicating.

She was strikingly sexy even under the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the lift. Luke caught a glimpse of himself in the wall mirror of the elevator and thought he looked green-skinned, sweaty, and too eager to impress.

But Sol seemed to have composed herself and was back at her most regal state. She was no longer making small talk. She looked at him, straight in the eye, as if interrogating him. Are we really doing this? her gaze appeared to ask. Are you as taken by me as I am by you?

Luke's eyes simply told her: More .