Page 68 of Cross + Catherine: The Companion

The Crush

Cece POV

“Oh, good,” Cece’s mother said as the two came to the exit door of the plane. “Miguel made it in time. I hate when I have to call in a driver.”

Cece followed her mother out of the plane, and found Catherine’s right-hand man wasn’t waiting alone. He’d brought along his oldest son—Juan.

Instantly, a hot flush climbed up thirteen-year-old Cece’s cheeks, and then raced down her throat as she caught sight of Juan leaning against the black Mercedes.

It wasn’t even her first time seeing Juan. She had known him for practically her entire life. He was two years older than her—fifteen—but he never made Cece feel like the annoying little girl he got stuck looking after whenever their parents had to do business.

They were friends.

Sort of.

Cece didn’t know when—or how—it happened, but sometime over the last year, she stopped seeing Juan like just a friend. Maybe it happened while he was growing taller, and filling out. Or maybe it was when his dark eyes started to always follow her whenever she moved.

It could have just been the fact Cece started noticing boys in general. Juan just ended up being the only boy she really cared to notice.

He was handsome, too.

Russet skin, and amber eyes. A baseball player with the grace and agility to prove it, not to mention the body …

Embarrassment crept up Cece’s cheeks again.

Dammit.

“Cece?”

It was only her mother saying her name that brought Cece out of her head. Apparently, she had all but come to a standstill on the bottom of the jet’s stairs.

Probably while staring.

At Juan.

Ugh.

“Yeah, Ma?”

Catherine glanced up the stairs to the jet, and then back to her daughter. “Did you forget something on the plane?”

“No,” Cece said quickly.

“Is something wrong?”

Cece’s gaze darted over her mother’s shoulder to see Juan talking to his father. “No, Ma, nothing is wrong.”

Just a little awkward.

The butterflies were back in her belly, too.

God.

Catherine followed her daughter’s gaze and then she grinned. “Ah.”

That stupid blush came back again at full force. She could actually feel the way the blood rushed to the surface of her skin to show off her shame. She might as well have just turned into a goddamn tomato for as red as she probably was.

Cece tried to play it off by coming down the last steps, and pushing past her stone-still mother. Because what else could she do?