Perdona Si Te Llamo Cayetano Raquel Tirado Fe... Direct

Raquel paused her scrubbing. The accent, the Barbour jacket draped over his arm, the leather weekend bag—he was a walking stereotype.

He let out a startled, genuine laugh. "It’s Borja, actually. And the boat is named after my mother. My grandmother’s name was much too long to fit on the hull." Perdona Si Te Llamo Cayetano Raquel Tirado Fe...

"Fine," she said, swinging her bag over her shoulder. "But we’re going to a place I pick. And if I see a single person wearing a sweater tied around their shoulders, I’m leaving." Raquel paused her scrubbing

She had bumped into him—literally—outside a coffee shop in Salamanca. Her iced latte had done a graceful, tragic arc onto his suede loafers. "It’s Borja, actually

The man looked down at his ruined shoes, then up at her. He had that effortless, slightly tousled hair that looked like it cost a hundred euros to maintain and a smile that suggested he’d never had a bad day in his life. "It’s fine," he said, his voice smooth and maddeningly polite. "They were getting old anyway. All three weeks of them."