Free Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain) by Caroline Angus Baker

dropped his hand from around her arm. Mierda. Shit, there was a revelation.
    “What do you know, in an instant he has no interest,” Luna said with a sarcastic smile. “Are we done now?”
    “I love kids,” Cayetano replied. “I just don’t have any.”
    “Well, at least that makes me a little less of a home wrecker.” Luna turned and left. It didn’t matter how much she liked him, there was no need to drag this out. She heard him call her name out again, this time in anger, but she didn’t turn back until she heard him call out in pain. She looked over her shoulder; he was in a heap on the path. She cringed, that must have been extremely painful for him. His bandaged leg stuck straight out in front of him on the uneven cobbles. The dozen or so people between the two of them rushed to his aid, but he looked up at Luna. She came back over and picked up his crutches for him.
    Cayetano thanked the people who had helped him, and he sighed. “That was not how to win over a lady,” he said to Luna. “I’m sorry.”
    “Are you all right?”
    “No.”
    She looked at the defeated look on his face, lined with the pain that came from his leg. She realised she quite liked the cheeky smile that usually graced his face. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
    “I need to get a taxi home.”
    Luna helped Cayetano into a nearby taxi outside the building, and she was genuinely concerned at how much pain he seemed to be in. She could imagine what the wound he had looked like. How many ways could she mess up with the man?
    “You aren’t coming with me?” he asked. He sat in the taxi with his crutches over his lap. “Please? It’s not far.”
    Luna glanced from hi m to the driver, who seemed rather proud to have Cayetano Beltrán in the back of his car. Cayetano would need help to get inside his building at the other end. With some reluctance, she got in the taxi, and they set off through the busy Madrid streets. The driver wouldn’t shut up, and he barely even looked at the road. It seemed he had caught every second of Cayetano’s performance in the ring, and was more than happy to offer suggestions on how to fight next time. Cayetano sat there and spoke to the man, despite the discussion being about how much he had fucked up in the ring. She may not have known who Cayetano was, but everyone else in Madrid did.
     
    The day was one surprise after another. When the taxi pulled up outside Cayetano’s building, she couldn’t believe it. So he was wealthy. Of course he was. The restored building was a marvel, only a few blocks away from the hotel that Luna had been a few weeks ago. It was one of Madrid’s treasures. The grey and white stone work was as beautiful as the day it was built. The moment they stepped out of the car, the portero came out to help. Cayetano didn’t want the aid of the doorman, and he told the older man that his friend would help him upstairs.
    Luna sighed and got in the elevator with Cayetano, and watched the doorman slide the metal door shut and hit the button for the sixth floor. The old elevator was slow as it took them up the centre of the winding staircase to the top of the building. 
    “Thank you,” Cayetano said when Luna pulled the metal lattice gate across, and helped him ove r the gap onto the white floor of the dark hallway.
    “If you’re fine now, I will leave you. I need to catch my train.”
    “You won’t come in?”
    “Yeah, your wife and I can have coffee,” she scoffed.
    “My ex-wife lives across town with her parents,” Cayetano said. “Which you would have already known if you had let me talk.”
    “I’m sorry! Look, this isn’t even about you. I’m embarrassed by my behaviour enough.”
    “I see, you used me and now you don’t want to see me again.” A smile spread over his face while he unlocked the front door to his apartment.
    Luna couldn’t help but return it. “Cayetano, I’m sorry. I’m just outside my comfort zone here, for a lot of reasons.