With one shaky exhale, I emptied my head and chest from every thought and fleeting emotion, and I let my arms drop from my hips as I reached for my bags.

Ya está bien. Time to go. Hell waits for no—

“Catalina,” a deep voice I’d thought I’d never be glad—not just glad, but also relieved, happy, freaking elated—to hear said behind me.

Closing my eyes, I gave myself a moment to get rid of the swirl of overjoyed and inappropriate emotions I had unsuccessfully tried to push away less than a heartbeat ago.

Aaron is here. He came.

Swallowing hard, I pressed my lips together.

I’m not alone. He is here.

“Catalina?” he called one more time.

Turning very slowly, I couldn’t stop my mouth from finally shaping into what I knew was a wobbly smile. One that probably gave away every single emotion fighting to burst out of me.

Aaron’s frown welcomed me, and I swore I had never been so happy to see that stubborn knot that wrinkled his brows together.

He came, he came, he came.

He tilted his head. “Are you o—”

Before he could finish formulating that question, I landed on his chest with an oomph. Then, I wrapped my arms around him the best I could. “You came.” The words were muffled against the soft fabric of whatever he was wearing. His chest was warm and wide and snuggly, and for a second, I didn’t want to give a damn about how I had plunked myself onto him or how embarrassed I’d be about it later.

Because for better or for worse, I was hugging Aaron.

And he … he wasn’t returning the embrace, but he was letting me. With his arms hanging on his sides, just where they had been when I launched myself at him. His chest wasn’t moving much either. It felt a lot like hugging a marble sculpture, unyielding and hardened under my cheek, only that it pounded with a heartbeat. The latter being the only sign that I had not shocked him into cardiac arrest.

Because besides that, Aaron remained completely still.

Taking one step back very slowly, I gazed up.

Okay, so he looked like a statue too. Perhaps I had broken him with my hug.

That would explain why he was barely blinking as he stared at me for a long moment.

Time in which the last minute started settling in. Desperately, I searched my mind for something to say, anything to excuse my brief and temporary madness that had resulted in me launching my body at his. I came up empty.

He finally broke the silence. “You thought I wasn’t coming.”

A part of me didn’t want to admit it. Even when it was pretty obvious.

Aaron continued, accusation in his voice, “You hugged me because you thought I wasn’t coming.” His gaze was searching. As if he couldn’t believe or understand what had just happened. “You’ve never hugged me before.”

I stepped further back, fumbling with my hands and feeling a little overwhelmed by the way he was looking at me. “I don’t think it computes as a hug when one of the parties remains like a wooden stick, Captain Not So Obvious.” I decided right then that in my head, it hadn’t been a hug. “Plus, you were late, and you never are, so what did you expect me to think?”

As I backed away some more, putting the right amount of space between our bodies, my gaze finally managed to take him in completely. From head to toe. And … yeah, from toe to head too. Because the soft fabric that had been pressed beneath my cheek a moment ago was a plain white cotton T-shirt. And the legs that had remained unmovable under my hug attack were clad in faded jeans. And the—

Are those tennis shoes on his feet?

Yes, they totally were.

I had no idea what I had expected him to wear, but it surely wasn’t that. I hadn’t been prepared for the image of Aaron standing in front of me in something that wasn’t the long-sleeved button-down shirt tucked in his dress pants that I knew him in.

Aaron looked relaxed. Normal. Not like the aloof stainless steel–working machine I was around at work. The one that screamed at you to keep your distance.

No. Ironically, what I wanted was to press my cheek against his chest again. Which was absolutely ridiculous. And dangerous too. This new version of Aaron was just as dangerous as the one that smiled and laughed. Because I liked it. A little too much for the well-being of our plan. Or mine.

“Catalina,” Aaron called, forcing my gaze to return to his face.

Cheeks heating, I pretended I hadn’t been ogling him. And appreciating what I ogled.

“Yes?”

“I asked if you were done with that?”

Mierda. “Done with what exactly?” I scratched the side of my neck, trying to conceal my embarrassment.

“Panicking. About me not coming. Are you finally done with that? Because I am here now, just how I said I would be. And I wasn’t late. You just happened to be shockingly early.” He tilted his head slightly and then added, “For once.”

Eyes narrowed, I checked the time on my phone. “Fine, you might be right.” I returned my gaze to his. “For once.”

The right corner of his lips tipped up. “Good. So, now that we have established that,” he started, and I did not like one single bit how smug he looked all of a sudden, “do you think you are done looking at me like I have grown a second head too? Because I’d like to get going.”

Busted. “Yep,” I squared my shoulders. “Done with that too.” I reached for the handle of my carry-on suitcase. “I just didn’t know you owned normal clothes.”

Aaron cocked a brow.

My treacherous eyes swept him head to toe again. Dammit, he looked really, really good, all cozy and comfy.

I shook my head. “Come on, Mr. Robot. We have bags to check in,” I told him, forcing my eyes away. “Now that you are here and all.”

Reaching for the weekender bag—which was filled to the brim—I lifted it off the floor, hung it off my shoulder, and tried to walk with as much grace as I could while probably looking a little bit like an overloaded Sherpa.

In one long stride, Aaron caught up with me. I watched his eyebrow rise as he gave me a sideways glance. “How long are you planning on staying in Spain?” He eyed my two pieces of bigger than strictly necessary luggage. “I thought we’d be flying back on Monday.”

“And we are.”

Eyes wide, Aaron made a show out of looking me and my luggage up and down. “That’s how you pack for three days?”

I quickened my pace while I tried really hard not to assplant on the terminal’s polished floor under the weight of the bag on my shoulder. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

Instead of answering, his hand on my arm stopped my course. Without giving me a chance to complain, he delicately snagged my bag and placed it on his shoulder.

The physical relief was so immediate that I had to stop myself from moaning in response.

“Jesus, Catalina,” he huffed, looking back at me, horrified. “What are you carrying in here? A dead body?”

“Hey, this is not a regular weekend visit to the fam, okay? Stop luggage-shaming me,” I said to the scowling man walking beside me. “I had to fit loads of stuff. Makeup, accessories, hair dryer, hair straightener, my good conditioner, lotion, all the dresses I’m taking, six pairs of shoes—”

“Six pairs of shoes?” Aaron croaked, scowling even harder.

“Yes,” I answered quickly, my gaze hunting for the right check-in counter. “One for each of the three different outfits I need, plus the pertinent three backups.” I paused, thinking of something. “Please tell me you packed at least one backup.”

Aaron rearranged my bag on his shoulder, shaking his head at the same time. “No, I didn’t. But I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand …” Another shake of his head. “You are—”

“Brilliant?” I finished for him. “Astute? Gifted in the art of packing? I know. And I hope you have enough clothes in that tiny suitcase you are carrying.”