CHAPTER 4
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Miguel
Miguel gripped her hand and guided her down the hallway toward the exit. Pushing the door open, the cool summer breeze greeted his warm skin.
Rachel groaned and pointed at her Corolla in the first row of parked cars. “I have an open house tomorrow at 11 AM.”
Miguel squeezed her fingers and tugged her along to the side alley. Tapping his key fob, he unlocked the doors to his Mazda 3. “I can pick you up in the morning and bring you back to your car. It’s no problem.” He opened the passenger side door and snickered before reaching inside. He tossed a pink, plastic water bottle and a Peppa Pig stuffie into the back seat.
Rachel giggled and got in. “Should I even ask?”
He closed the door and jogged around to the driver’s side. Sliding into his seat, he matched her laughter. “My niece, Izzy, is three. I pick her up from daycare every Tuesday and Thursday for my sister.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Miguel grinned at Rachel’s quick glance at the car seat behind her.
“That’s really sweet of you.” She fastened her seatbelt before dropping her purse to the floor between her feet.
With a tap of his finger, the engine hummed to life and the speakers blared—the signature violin of Yellowcard bursting into the car.
“Sorry,” he murmured and twisted the knob.
She shook her head and turned it back the opposite way, belting out the last lines along with William Ryan Key to “Only One.” When the song ended, she grinned. “My brother loves all the early emo bands. Which means by default, I do, too.”
How much more perfect are you going to get?
“What’s your favorite band?” he asked.
“Yellowcard. Obviously.” She laughed and pointed at the dash. “You?”
“New Found Glory. Er, wait, maybe Less Than Jake.”
Rachel nodded with a wide grin on her pretty lips. “Both solid answers.”
He matched her smile and handed her his phone. “All right, emo princess, put your address in so I can take you home.”
Rachel tapped in her address and dropped the phone in the cup holder as the navigation system overpowered the music through the speakers.
Miguel examined the screen on the dashboard and peered at the route as Siri instructed him. “Wait, you live in Pinecrest?”
She nodded and turned to face him. Her smile glowed, lit up by the red light on the dash.
“I do, too.”
Her head tilted. “Really? What area? Er—subdivision?”
Miguel pulled out of the alley and onto the main road. “I’m at the corner of Sunrise and Sunset. It’s a subdivision on the west side—”
“Rainbow Ridge!” She giggled. “We’re neighbors! My house is on Sunshine. I must literally live in your backyard.”
A surge of adrenaline zipped through his body as he merged onto the highway, gaining excitement with each mile per hour of acceleration. Miguel glanced over his right shoulder to check his blind spot and his gaze lingered on Rachel. Her enthusiastic grin sent a tingle tickling his skin.
“Blue A-frame house with the white shutters,” she continued. “It has a fire pit out back and a vegetable garden. Do you know it?”
This is so weird!
With a nod, he widened his eyes and pictured the view from his porch overlooking her yard. “So, you’re saying you’re the mysterious bonfire girl?”
She giggled and swatted him on the arm. “What does that mean?”
“It means”— he snickered— “I’ve seen you out there every night this summer, pyro.”
“Not every night!”
“Most nights.” He winked and flipped on his turn signal to merge off the highway and onto the familiar frontage road. “From my bed, there’s a little gap between the blinds and the window. If I lay on my right side, I have a direct view of your house.”
And of the dude that’s been over there with you.
A bark of laughter released from her lips as she leaned over and gripped his knee.
His muscles tensed and his stomach dropped, the touch of her fingers gripping his heart with exhilaration.
“That’s a bit creepy.”
He chuckled, but dropped his hand on top of hers, her fingers cool to the touch. “I just mean I know what house is yours.”
Rachel flipped her hand over and threaded her fingers through his.
Oh!
He swallowed as his chest tightened. “Well, welcome home, neighbor.” He steered the car to the right and onto Sunshine St., still gripping her hand. With a squeeze of her fingers, he pulled into her driveway.
“It’s your own fault, you know,” she whispered.
“What is?”
“You sent a full bottle of wine to my table.” Giggling, she tugged her hand away and unfastened her seatbelt.
He bit his bottom lip as her touch disappeared. Fighting the desire to lean over and tug her hand back, Miguel unbuckled his seatbelt and turned off the engine. “Guilty.” With a shy smile, he leaned forward and picked up her purse. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the door.”
Even the dim lighting of the late hour couldn’t hide the flush on her cheeks. She nodded and gripped the door handle.
Miguel met her in front of the hood and extended his elbow.
Snaking her arm through his, she followed his lead along the path and to the front door. “Miguel Rodriguez,” she cooed. “I’m not sure if you know, but I got stood up tonight after a really lousy day at work.” She dug in her bag and gripped her house keys. Ramming a teal key in the lock, she twisted the handle and pushed the door open.
The dark house greeted them, and Rachel flipped on the foyer light, flooding the space with fluorescents. “I really didn’t expect to end the day with a smile.” She grinned and dropped her purse on the little hallway table. “So, thank you. For not making me feel like a total loser.” She flushed again and dropped a hand to her hip. “And for the ride home,” she added.
“What was his name?”
She frowned. “Who?”
“Your date tonight.”
Her lids fluttered as she gripped his hand and tugged him inside.
His belly flip-flopped, mixing the mushroom ravioli and wine with anticipation and longing. Miguel snickered and tripped over his own shoes until her body collided with his.
“His name is Miguel,” she whispered and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek.
The roar in his ears pounded against his brain, stalling the air in his lungs as he worked to draw a breath. Her bold, sensual actions took him off guard.
Returning a peck to her cheek, he lifted his hand and cupped the back of her neck. Miguel dragged his fingers through her long sandy-brown hair before his lips parted. “Ms. Rachel Prescott,” he whispered. “You said so yourself... it’s my own fault you’ve had too much wine this evening.”
As he drew back and groaned, a memory swooped in. Lauren’s face swam before his eyes on an evening similar to this.
I brought you home drunk that night, too...
“It’s wearing off,” Rachel muttered and stepped forward.
Gripping her arms, he held her firmly a foot away, unwilling to let the past repeat itself. He swallowed and dragged a thumb over her bottom lip.
I can’t. I won’t do it again.
The breath left her, and the warm air tickled his fingers. “Stay,” she whispered and pressed a kiss on his thumb.
He shook his head. “Not tonight,” he whispered.
She groaned and stomped her foot playfully.
Dropping his hand to his pocket, he grabbed his phone and pressed it into her palm. “Give me your number. You can text me in the morning when you need to get your car.”
Begrudgingly, she gripped the phone and entered her number with a roll of her eyes. “You’re one of those fictional gentlemen I’ve only read about in romance novels, aren’t you?” Tucking his phone back in his pocket, she stepped forward and pressed her lips to his.
She tasted of wine, but the desire fueling her kiss overpowered the alcohol.
His body awakened. A flurry of tingles rippled along his spine as his hands instinctively gripped her hips. He pressed his middle into hers and tugged her thin frame closer.
She moaned against his mouth, and his mind melted.
Fighting every physical instinct, he pulled away with a snicker. “That is one convincing argument.” Heat pummeled his body, flushing his cheeks and warming his skin.
Rachel dragged a hand through her hair. “Until tomorrow then, neighbor.” She winked and blew him a kiss.
As he caught it midair, a matching grin consumed his lips.
“Goodnight, Sunshine.” He winked and tugged the door closed behind him.
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Miguel chased his niece’s toddling steps around the swing set. “Busy Izzy!” he yelled and scooped her little body up as she roared with laughter. He blew a raspberry on her belly and carried her back to the picnic table beneath the park’s pavilion.
“Time for lunch, munchkin.”
His sister pushed a pink plastic plate across the table’s surface as he set Izzy down on the bench. “I’m exhausted.”
Maria smiled. “I don’t doubt it. You’ve been chasing her around for the last hour!”
“Well, she’ll give you a good nap later.” Miguel pulled a sandwich toward him. With a grin, he undid the foil packaging.
“Don’t get too excited.” Maria giggled and pointed. “It’s just a leftover torta ahogada. Nothing fancy like your restaurant.” She winked and opened her own sandwich.
Miguel took the first bite and savored the cold red chili and tomato sauce on his tongue. “I love Pier Ninety-Two’s menu. But this?” He winked and licked his lips. “This is comfort food.” Smiling again, he sank his teeth into the sandwich.
“Mom’s recipe.” Maria’s gaze lifted to the sky. “She’d be so proud of you, hermano.”
He shoved the straw into Izzy’s juice box. Nodding toward his niece, he raised his shoulders and winked. “I think she’d say the same about you.”
“What’s gotten into you? You’re far too happy this afternoon. Where’s my brooding baby brother I’ve grown to know and love?”
His heart raced. “What’re you talking about?” He took another bite. “I don’t brood,” he mumbled.
“Oh, you brood.” Queuing up a Peppa Pig episode on YouTube, Maria propped her phone against a bottle of water and aimed it at Izzy. “But there is something up with you. You never smile this much.”
Another grin touched his lips as the recall of Rachel’s morning kiss lifted his spirit all over again. “It’s nothing,” he muttered and stuffed another bite of the sandwich in his mouth.
“I call bullshit.” Her eyes widened. “I mean, you’re always good with Iz, but you’re extra attentive today. What gives?”
Miguel shrugged. “The restaurant is going well—”
“Stop.” She rolled her eyes. “The restaurant has been going well since you first opened the doors. Come on. It’s just me. Tell me what’s up.”
He snorted. “That’s definitely not true.”
“True enough, owner.” Her brows lifted as she took another bite. “Come on, even Lauren told me how proud she is of what you’ve accomplished with the place.”
Lauren’s name pierced his heart, stabbing the elation singing in his soul with a blade of sudden sorrow—like a balloon popping at the end of a party.
Ugh, why’d you drag Lauren into this?
“Whatever she said, she’s just saying it because she doesn’t have to deal with the nonsense anymore.”
And that’s the truth.
Maria huffed out a breath and tore a piece of crust off Izzy’s sandwich at her request. “Well, whatever nonsense you’re dealing with seems to be under control. The place is—”
“Hard to run.” Chewing on his final bite, Miguel huffed out a breath. “I had no idea what it would take,” he admitted.
“Well, keep doing what you’re doing. It’s clearly working.” Blowing a kiss across the table at her daughter, she smiled. “But my question stands. I know you work hard. And it’s clear Pier Ninety-Two is thriving. But there’s something else going on here.” She circled her finger over him.
Am I that obvious?
“There’s not,” he insisted. “I just love my niece. And I love my sister.” He winked. “I’m happy to be here spending time with you both.”
“Liar.” She stuffed the last bite of sandwich in her mouth.
“You’re ridiculous.” Rolling his eyes, he smashed the foil wrappings into a ball and tossed it into the trash with the free throw skills of Lebron James.
“It’s a woman, isn’t it?” Her head tilted to the side as she skipped an ad on her phone for Izzy.
Oh, my God. How can you read me this easily?
His belly flip-flopped, still toying with the emotions swirling in his system. Miguel released a breath as the memory of Rachel’s lips consumed his brain—and his body. “Er, maybe,” he muttered.
“Miguel!” Leaning back in her seat, Maria clapped her hands together and giggled. “I knew it!” she announced. “Come on. Tell me. Who is she? Will you bring her to Aunt Lorelei’s big party so we can meet her?”
He shook his head. “Hell no.”
“Miguel!”
Waving off her word vomit of enthusiasm in favor of Izzy’s sudden request for another trip down the slide, he stood and scooped her off the bench with a laugh. “Her name is Rachel Prescott. She’s my neighbor,” he admitted, throwing her a bone.
But she’s about to be so much more.