The American Roommate Experiment (Spanish Love Deception #2)(64)

I didn’t want to reveal myself, my feelings, but I had to ask. “Are you excited to return? After you recover from… whatever happened?” His eyes narrowed slightly and I felt the need to say, “Lina said you were smashing competition after competition. You had sponsors, and social presence… You were killing it. Before the break.” Lina had never told me all that much about Lucas. I’d gathered most info from his social media. From how much he had shared online before he’d vanished completely weeks before the wedding. “So, I just wondered.”

Lucas swallowed. And he stayed quiet so long that I thought he wasn’t going to say anything. I started turning away from him, just to hide the disappointment of him not confiding in me, but just as I moved, his hand wrapped around my elbow.

“I can’t do any of it anymore, Rosie,” he said, and I could feel the weight behind his words, as if these were rocks he was hardly able to lift. “I… won’t be able to surf ever again. Not at the level I did. Not even close.” His gaze tipped down to the leg I knew bothered him more than he wanted to show. “So, that career as a pro? It’s not exactly stopping me from anything. Especially not dating. What will I be offering anyone anyway, huh?”

And oh.

Oh my God. This wasn’t just a vacation. He wasn’t taking time off to recover from anything.

And I… Lord, I wanted to wrap my arms around him. To smack myself for asking those questions because it must have been so incredibly hard for him to answer them.

I also wanted him to tell me everything. How he felt and how it had happened. I was on the quest to know all there was to know about Lucas Martín and it wasn’t because I was curious, but because I cared.

But Lucas looked at me like he’d just been cut open, exposed, and had nothing left in him to deal with that conversation. So I didn’t ask. This was big enough already. He’d given me a meaningful, crucial part of who he was today. Now. Not the social media persona he once had been that I had happened to spy on.

“You’re not defined by a career, Lucas.” I let my hand fall on top of his, very briefly, just so I didn’t lace my fingers with his like I was desperate to do. “You’re way more than just that. You have more to offer, too.”

He blinked, a muscle in his jaw jumping, his gaze clouding with something that looked a lot like wonder. Awe. Also, surprise.

And just as quickly, he was walking off, severing the contact, and reappearing with a large wooden spatula.

He leaned down on the counter, assessing my work like we hadn’t had that conversation. “Good job, Rosie. I think you might have a knack for this.”

He slid my pizza onto the spatula and left to put it in the oven. I took the opportunity to check his toppings choice. “Whoa. Is that honey that you drizzled on yours?”

“Yes,” he said when he came back and repeated the process with his pizza. “Pear, walnuts, some prosciutto because I couldn’t find any jamón that was worth our time, and a little of blue cheese, too.”

He walked back to the oven, and my gaze followed him this time, getting caught up in the way his back shifted as he slid the spatula in and out. Muscles moved and rolled, making me think of him in the water. Him, a board underneath his body. And him, not able to jump on one anymore.

“… Or in other words,” Lucas was saying, “any Italian’s nightmare.”

He strolled back to where I was at the counter, and I nodded my head, fully aware that I had spaced out. “Yes, total nightmare.”

“You didn’t listen to a word I said, huh?”

“What? Of course, I did.”

He snickered knowingly. “Rosalyn Graham, and you dare deny I’m irresistible.”

I was ready to deny it again, but now that he was standing closer, not more than a foot away, I could see that the tip of his nose was covered in flour so I told him, “Your ego is so big that I should probably let you walk around the rest of the night like this but… you have something on your face.” I brought my index finger to my nose, pointing him in the right direction. “Right here.”

He dragged the back of his hand across his nose and cheek, but only made it worse. He asked, “Now?”

“Yep,” I lied through my smile. “Much better.”

He narrowed his eyes, inspecting my face. “It’s not gone, is it?”

I shook my head and finally let out a laugh.

Lucas’s palm returned to his face, but he must have covered his hands in flour when he slid the pizzas onto the spatula, because he somehow managed to paint his chin white, too. “How about now?”

I laughed harder. Smiled bigger.

“Come here and take pity on me, woman.” He held both hands in the air, looking at his palms. “Fix me up, before I end up completely covered in it.”

“But you look soooo cute.”

He sent me a dark look that made me immediately move, closing the small distance between us and stopping right in front of him. I held my hand up in the air, reaching for his face but not making contact. And I swore, I’d never—ever—understand what got into me to say what I said next.

“Maybe I like you covered in flour.”

Lucas’s eyes sparkled with surprise. Something warm and sultry, too.

My smile died slowly. My left hand reached for the remnants of flour that had been covering the counter and I covered my fingers in it.