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

Reasons you don’t talk to strangers about.”
    “Then why don’t you come in and not be a stranger anymore?”
    “Is your leg even sore?”
    “Yes, I have 36 stitches. Every one hurt like hell when I fell over like a fool.”
    “Does it hurt enough that you needed me to help you up here?”
    “Maybe. Don’t hate me because I didn’t call. I was in the hospital!”
    “I never expected you to call.” S he stepped into the entrance way of the huge apartment, and watched him hop over and close the door behind her.
    Cayetano gestured for her to turn right into the kitchen, and he hobbled without his crutches into the large room with her. The place was immaculate; the all-white marble kitchen sparkled in every corner of the room. They sat down on the stools along the island counter in the centre of the kitchen. Cayetano was eager to rest his injured leg, and more eager to have the lovely lady next to him. “How did you find out I was married?” he asked.
    “I saw your fight on the news. The presenter mentioned your wife was there.”
    “I can see why you hate me. I didn’t mean to lie to you about so many things. It’s like you say, you don’t tell your life story on the first date.”
    “Was it even a date?”
    “Don’t ask me, it’s been years since I have been on one,” Cayetano half-smiled. He realised how pathetic that sounded. “I liked that you didn’t know who I was, and I didn’t want to ruin it. But I realise that was selfish, especially since you were very clear about who you are.”
    “What do you mean that I didn’t know who you were?”
    “I meet women, and they know me as the bullfighter, the famous guy. Their intentions are never genuine. My wife and I split eight months ago, and she moved out. But no one knows that, other than our families. But I’m single. It’s complicated.”
    “Clearly,” Luna sighed. “I watched you hurt your leg. Did you really mess up with the bull because of exhaustion, as was suggested? They said that you were late for preparation the day of the fight. This all happened because you were with me?”
    “I knew what I was doing when I went out with you that night. Trust me, if a man is interested, he doesn’t care if he is busy the next day. He stays the night anyway.”
    “You could have been killed.”
    “It’s my job. Please don’t worry, I will be fine in a few weeks, and other than the public humiliation and the anger of my father over me losing, there is no harm done.”
    “That sounds like a lot of harm.”
    “It hasn’t been my best few weeks, I will agree with you,” Cayetano said. He stood up from his seat and shuffled across the room to the fridge and opened it. “How about we have another date here in my kitchen? I suggest lunch.”
    “You can cook?”
    Cayetano pulled an enormous chocolate cake from the fridge. “Cake counts as lunch doesn’t it?”
    Luna chuckled while he placed it on the counter between them, and pulled two forks from the drawer. “No, I can’t cook at all, I won’t lie,” he said. “My Mamá  made it and put it in my fridge.”
    “Ah, a mother. That explains how a man can have such a beautiful home.”
    Cayetano scoffed lightheartedly and pulled a bottle of red wine from the rack and sat back down with her. “As I said, my family is aroun d me all the time. Mamá was only 15 when I was born, and she has been … how you say… sobrecompensando…”
    “Overcompensating?”
    “Sí, overcompensating my whole life, by trying to do a good job. My father, he is much older than her, and her family were not happy when they found their daughter was pregnant to a bullfighter twice her age. She felt she had to prove that Papá was good for her and that she could raise my little sister and me.”
    “And your parents are still together now?”
    “Sí, very much so. I work with my father and uncles every day, and my mother is the protector of everyone. And since María left me, she has fussed over me, even though