Chapter 11

For the second morning in a row, I wake up with my hand wrapped round my hard cock, and I’m not happy about it.

I’ve managed just fine for ten years. Fuck! It’s been ten years, and it hasn’t been a problem... until now. And it’s a problem all right. It’s fucked up. There’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Except ignore it, of course.

I can pinpoint the exact moment it happened. Two nights ago, at the dinner with Estrella, Florencio, and Rafe. I’d asked if I could play the piano. It’s a beautiful grand piano, a Steinway, a world apart from the old upright at my bar. Estrella agreed, if I played one of her favourite songs. Then I looked up and saw Florencio and Rafe dancing together. Florencio is graceful in the way only a dancer can be, and Rafe was just being his natural self and enjoying the moment. They were perfection, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from them. How they looked together.

But of course, nothing can come of it. One, Rafe is straight, though I admit he is full of surprises, and two, Florencio is so damn pretty. So what would they want with me? An old, washed-up widower who will never fall in love again. So yeah, it’s pretty fucked up. And now I have a raging hard-on again, which just heightens my bad mood about it all.

Today, we’ve been invited to dinner again. Knowing I missed seeing them yesterday and that I’m looking forward to seeing them again does nothing to alleviate my foul mood. Neither does the niggling feeling in the back of my head... how perverse it is that after ten years of being celibate and not caring one bit, two guys have managed to get past that and knocked me sideways.

No, they haven’t. They can’t have. It’s just the effects of ten years’ celibacy, now my cock is acting like it’s sensed a dog in heat. There’s only one thing to do: take a hot shower and alleviate the pressure that aches so much I can barely walk straight. I run the taps and step under the scorching water, as if almost burning my skin is somehow going to purge all thoughts of them from my system.

As soon as I touch my cock, I know it’s going to be frenzied. Images assault me: Rafe’s amber eyes, and how they sparkle with delight as he talks about something he’s passionate about; Florencio’s pretty mouth curving with witty remarks, and those damn hips of his. I gather more soap, my hand flashing up and down my dick, grunting as I let my imagination take me places where they’re together . . . and I’m watching. Seeing their limbs tangled, their mouths connecting. It might be a fantasy that can’t happen, but fuck, it’s hot, and I want to watch and be a part of it at the same time. That pushes me over the edge, and all too soon, I’m spilling into my hand. I stand there panting, letting the water wash away the cum and soap, knowing that whilst it might have relieved the immediate problem, it’s done absolutely nothing to diminish the cause. If anything, it’s made it worse.

The universe is also definitely against me when my shower turns cold and the water pressure drops. With a roar, I jump out of the cool dribble that my shower has become and vigorously towel myself dry to warm up. I look at the person scowling at me in the mirror. I grimace. There’s nothing I can do but get over myself.

Once dressed, my first job of the day is to call a plumber. I can cope with grumbling pipes but not a cold shower. They can’t come out until next week, which certainly doesn’t help my temper.

“Is everything all right boss?” Alena asks when I snap at her for no reason.

“I’m sorry. I’m just out of sorts.” I fill her in on the plumbing problem. She doesn’t know about the rest, and I am not about to enlighten her.

I thought I’d dressed casually for dinner, but when I appear in the bar, Alena gives a low whistle, and I see Anton smirk. When I glare at him, he turns away, busying himself with putting glasses away.

“That colour looks good on you,” Alena says as I reach past her to select a wine—one from my cousin’s vineyard. I look down at my midnight-blue shirt.

“Do you think so?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious of what I’m wearing.

“It’s perfect.” Her smile is encouraging and despite telling myself my appearance doesn’t matter, I feel pleased .

When I’m ready to leave, I turn to Alena. “Do you know what to do if there’s trouble?”

It’s Friday night, and although it’s not usually a problem, I can’t help but worry. To give her credit, she doesn’t roll her eyes or make some smart remark, she just recites my instructions back to me, word for word. Maybe I will make her bar manager, especially if I spend any more time away from the bar. I suppress a chuckle at that thought. This is all fine, but both Rafe and Florencio have homes to go to—homes in other countries, in fact. Whatever this is will be over soon, which is just another reason why nothing is going to happen. Then why am I going at all? For a brief second, I consider cancelling. After all, what is the point if it will end soon? But even as I think it, I know there’s no way I’m going to cancel. I don’t understand it, but I have to go.

“Hola . ” Florencio greets me at the door with his wide smile. He moves in for a quick kiss on my right cheek and then steps back. “Oh, you brought wine. Wonderful,” he says as I thrust it towards him.

“My cousin’s,” I say as an explanation as he reads the label.

“It will be perfect.” He whisks it away to the kitchen and I can do nothing except follow him.

Rafe is already there with a beer in hand.

“Hi,” I greet him.

“I’m told it’s ‘hola , ’ and I have to do this whole kissing thing now as well,” he says. “In England, we just shake hands for formal greetings and hug close friends and family. ”

“Well, we shake hands here, too, if you’d rather,” I explain, and I see him wrinkle his nose slightly.

“That seems a bit awkward now we’ve met a few times, don’t you think?”

“I agree. So you want to try a more informal greeting?”

“That also seems a bit weird now that we’ve been talking about it for several minutes.”

I feel a slight ripple of disappointment that I won’t be that close to him, even for those few seconds. “Maybe next time then, though I have to tell you that here in Spain, we use both cheeks, not just the one,” I can’t help adding, and see Rafe nod slightly as if he’s filing that away in his brain.

“Something smells delicious.” I change the subject before it gets more awkward and because it truly does smell good.

“Well, it’s nearly ready.” Florencio turns from where he’s been stirring something on the stove. “So shoo, off to the dining room.”

“Have you done the cooking?” I look around at the pans and dishes adorning the kitchen counters.

“I have and we are having a little taste of Argentina tonight.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask.

He thrusts the wine I brought back into my hands. “Open this, now go.” He makes a shooing motion with his hands.

“We’ve been dismissed,” I whisper to Rafe as we walk along the passage to the dining room, enjoying the sound of his laughter.

Estrella enters, aided by Juana, and I greet her in the Spanish way. Rafe, with a little smile, follows my lead. Juana helps her into a chair.

“Lovely to see you again, Miss Winters, and thank you for the invite.”

“Do you know, I think I’d like you to call me Auntie too. Both of you.” She fixes both of us with her sharp eyes as we sit. “I’ve never had my family close, and I find I’m rather liking it. It sounds much better than calling me Miss Winters, doesn’t it?”

“We could call you Estrella,” Rafe offers as Florencio bustles in carrying a large dish that he sets down on the table.

“You could, but I prefer Auntie.” She gives a mischievous grin that settles the matter.

The dinner is excellent. We start with provoleta, a grilled cheese, followed by steak with salad and chimichurri. The tarta de ricota with dulce de leche, a sweet, reduced-milk spread, finishes the meal perfectly.

“That was delicious, Florencio. Thank you,” I praise him as I chase the last of my ricotta tart round my bowl.

“You’re welcome. I enjoy cooking. It’s my favourite thing next to dancing.”

“That’s my first taste of Argentina,” Rafe says as Florencio holds his hands out to take his dish for clearing away.

“I’ll make sure it’s not your last,” I hear him reply with a smile. If Rafe understood him, he doesn’t show it. Florencio catches my eye as he asks for my dish. “What about you? Would you like to sample some more of Argentina?” He gives me a flash of his teeth.

“Of course, given the chance,” I reply, and I get a sassy wink as he rises.

“Can we help clean up?” Rafe asks, jumping up. “I can wash the dishes.”

“There’s a dishwasher, so no, it’s fine. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He disappears towards the kitchen .

“I’d like some air if you could help me to the terrace,” Estrella says, and I go to her aid while Juana helps clear the table. As I escort her through the house, I wonder if Florencio had meant what he said or if he was just harmlessly flirting. Right at this moment, I can’t decide which I hope for the most.