CHAPTER 16
Miguel
The oven announced three hundred and twenty-five degrees with a screeching beep. Frowning at the pile of ingredients stacked on the kitchen counter, Miguel rolled a can of condensed milk toward Rachel. “Are you sure you want to make flan?”
“Yes, Miguel!” She widened her eyes in jest. “I’m sure.” Rolling the can back in his direction, she picked up the bottle of vanilla extract and tapped the plastic. “So, what’s first?”
His gaze connected with hers across the kitchen island. The simple smile resting on her lips warmed his soul. A shiver chilled his skin as he eyed the flush on her usually pale cheeks. Miguel swallowed and shook his head, savoring the easy moment, unlike any other before in his lifetime.
A Saturday night baking date with my beautiful girlfriend. When did I get so lucky?
“Miguel?” she prodded.
He cleared his throat and curled his index finger toward his body. “The first step is tricky. I’ll need your help.”
Rachel scooted from the barstool and circled the island. Stilling beside him, she surveyed the ingredients closer. “Okay. What—”
His palm cupped the back of her neck and his fingers threaded through her long locks of hair. Grinning at the surprise awakening in her eyes, he tugged her closer and brought his mouth to hers, willing the euphoric emotions swirling in his heart to convey the words trapped beneath his tongue.
She moaned in his arms and returned his embrace, following the lead of his lips as the connection grew between them.
My sweet Sunshine.
Miguel gripped her waist and pressed a soft kiss on her neck before pulling away. “See why I needed your help?” he whispered.
Rachel laughed and snuggled into his arms, resting her head against his chest. Her nearness quickened his heartbeat. “A kiss is the first step?”
“Always.” Miguel snickered and reached for the bag of sugar before dropping it in her hands. “Every dessert begins with a kiss.”
The flush on her cheeks spread to her neck as she furrowed her brow. “How were you single again?”
His stomach dipped, her sudden question, unsettling. Miguel tilted his head and bonked her on the nose with the tip of his index finger. “Huh?”
She swatted him on the arm. “For real, though! You say stuff like ‘every dessert begins with a kiss’. You’re this incredible, doting uncle. A business owner.” Rachel tapped each finger grasping the sugar as she spoke. “Oh, and not to mention, you’re sexy as hell. Are an amazing kisser... and know how to cook.” She snorted. “And bake!”
Miguel reclaimed the sugar from her hands. “Raquel, stop,” he muttered and selected a saucepan from the corner cabinet.
“What?” She stepped to his side and eyed his hands as he measured out the tiny white crystals in a plastic cup.
“Don’t you think I’ve been embarrassed enough already today?”
Her sweet laughter touched his ears as her fingers dragged along his forearm. “I’m not trying to embarrass you.” Rachel’s gaze fell to the saucepan as he added water to the sugar and moved it to the stove.
Turning on the heat, he winked and handed her a wooden spoon. “Want to stir?”
She gripped the spoon. “You’re not going to answer me, are you?”
“Answer what?” Miguel guided her arm to the pan and dipped the spoon into the mixture. “Bring this to a boil and stir until the water disappears.”
Rachel scoffed but began stirring.
I really don’t want to talk about why I’ve been single for so long.
Miguel pulled out the blender and gathered the remaining ingredients on the counter.
“Is it because of Lauren?” she murmured without missing a single stir.
Ugh.
His hands froze as he bit the inside of his cheek. The metallic taste of blood dripped along his tongue. Swallowing the angst building in his throat, he grunted.
I really don’t want to talk about this, Rach.
And as if she read his mind, she jumped in first.
“My family has always poked fun at me for boyfriend hopping, as they call it.” She shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like I enjoy it.” She increased the aggressiveness of her stirs. “It’s just really hard to find love,” she added under her breath.
Miguel sucked in a deep breath and nodded as her words hit home.
“Is it just me, or do people kinda look at you funny once you turn thirty and aren’t married? Or don’t have kids?” she continued, unprompted.
That’s the truth.
“It’s like they don’t see, or don’t even care, about a successful career. Or owning a house. Or living debt-free.” She tossed her hands in the air, sending a fleck of wet sugar across the counter. “None of those things matter if you’re not sharing it with someone.”
Her truth dripped from her lips, every detail a close replica of what lived in his heart.
“I’ve had all of those same thoughts.”
“You have?” Her stirs slowed as the heat increased, the sugar bubbling along the edges.
Miguel nodded and stepped closer to the stove. Gripping her arm, he guided the spoon over the bubbles and smoothed out the makings of caramel. With a sigh, he reached for a cake pan across the counter. “It’s like I said earlier. And a big part of the reason why I didn’t want to go to my aunt’s birthday party.”
Her head bobbed, eyeing the twist of his fingers as he turned off the heat and gripped the pan’s handle. Swirling the golden contents, he released another sigh.
“I understand,” she whispered.
Miguel poured the hot caramel in the round cake pan, coating the bottom and lower sides—the familiar smell of his youth... nauseating. “Rach, you just listed off a handful of really nice things about me. But trust me, not everyone shares that same sentiment in my family.”
Rachel frowned as he pushed the cake pan aside and reached for the tea kettle. “What do you mean?”
Miguel maneuvered to the sink and filled the kettle with tap water. “I’ve only been a business owner for a few months. Believe me, my family was never impressed with my bachelor lifestyle, waiting tables and pouring drinks,” he admitted and placed the kettle on the stove. “And I was so hung up on Lauren for so many years, that I hardly dated, let alone brought a girl home—”
And now look how much you’ve got me sharing...
Rachel gulped and plugged in the blender. “Miguel, can I ask you something?”
He snorted while sorting ingredients. Dumping a can of condensed milk into the blender, he lifted his gaze to meet hers. His chest tightened as the impending question sat on the tip of her tongue. Her curiosity was a guaranteed purchase in the truth department. “I’m afraid to say yes.”
She giggled and upended a can of evaporated milk into the blender. “You know I’m nosy.”
“I know you’re nosy,” he answered as heat blanketed his body. Cracking a sequence of six eggs into the mixture, he nodded in begrudging agreement.
“Did anything ever happen between you and Lauren?” She hesitated. “Er, I mean... wasn’t she married the entire time you worked with her?”
The breath stilled in his throat, hovering midway between his lungs and lips. A tingle rippled through his body like tiny needles prickling his skin. Rolling his head around his neck, he opened a package of cream cheese and tossed it in.
The infamous night returned to the forefront of his mind. The single moment that gave him hope. Deep within his chest, the holes in his heart ached at the memory.
I guess... What’s the harm in telling you?
Swallowing a gulp of air, Miguel tipped in a teaspoon of vanilla and searched for the confidence in his soul to speak. “One cup of sugar,” he choked out and pushed the bag toward her.
She nodded and fell silent.
Here goes nothing.
Miguel rested his butt against the edge of the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “There was one night,” he muttered as she poured the sugar in.
“Did you sleep with her?”
“No. I swear to you, it was nothing like that.”
With a nod, she replaced the bag of sugar on the counter and turned her gaze to his. She cleared her throat and rested her hand on his forearm.
Her touch soothed him, forcing the minuscule shred of confidence in his heart to grow. “Right before Pier Ninety-Two burned down, Lauren was at a really low point with Mitch. And I mean, low...” He dropped his arms from his chest and gripped her hands.
“I remember,” she whispered and squeezed his fingers.
“I swear, Rach, in hindsight, I was stupid to ever think I had a chance with her.”
Her right hand lifted to cup his cheek. “We all make mistakes,” she cooed.
“Yeah, well this was a big one,” he admitted and ran his thumb along her bottom lip. “The night Lauren received the insurance check after the fire, we went out to dinner to celebrate the payout. I knew she was trying to make it work with Mitch again, but I convinced her to stay out and share a few drinks with me.” He rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath. “We danced. We had a few margaritas. And—”
“Miguel...” she whispered.
“And,” he continued. “I almost single-handedly destroyed her marriage that night. I brought her home drunk. I saw Mitch in the window when I walked her to the porch. I knew he was watching, but I still kissed her... er, on the forehead.” Releasing an exhale, he eyed the floor, focusing on the specks in the tile. “But she let me do it. She didn’t push me away.” He gulped. “And it felt like maybe she wanted more.”
God knows I did.
Rachel cleared her throat.
“It was just that night though. Just that one time. I had one too many drinks and for a fraction of a second, I thought we might have a chance together. So, I took it.”
Fuck was I ever wrong...
As Rachel peered into his eyes, sympathy radiated from her heart. “I understand,” she whispered and fell into his arms. “I understand your desire to try,” she repeated in a whisper. “Especially if she seemed receptive.”
“You do?” He cupped the back of her head, bringing her closer to his chest. Beneath her touch, his heart throbbed. Thump bump. Thump bump. Thump bump.
“Mmm-hmm. I remember those days working with Mitch.” Lifting her face, she studied him. “He’d filled out an intent to file form... and had a lawyer and everything. Like, he was ready to leave her.”
You do understand.
Miguel nodded. “I know. That’s all true, but it doesn’t give me a pass for anything I did. I still kissed my married boss—”
“No, it doesn’t.” She interrupted and shrugged. “But it shows me what kind of a man you really are. I see the regret in your eyes and hear it in your voice.”
Forcing his lids closed, he cringed until her sweet giggle touched his ears.
“To my dying day, Rach, I’ll always regret what I did that night.”
Rachel pulled away and covered the blender with the lid. She tapped start and the roar of the blades commanded the kitchen as the ingredients whipped together in a tasty tornado.
Tapping the off button, Miguel kissed her cheek and removed the jar from the base. “Do you think less of me now?”
She cupped his chin. “No. If anything, I think more of you. Thank you for telling me about her.”
Relief flooded through his veins as her words touched his soul. Her acceptance and understanding were more shared connections held captive in his heart. “You’re welcome,” he muttered and poured the custard-like contents of the blender over the crystalized caramel in the cake pan.
She inhaled and smiled at the treat. “Now what?”
As if on cue, the tea kettle whistled. Gripping a dish towel, Miguel pulled it from the burner and pointed. “Hand me that baking pan, Sunshine.”
Rachel slid the pan in his direction, and he poured the hot water in.
“I don’t understand.” Her nose wrinkled examining the process.
“It’s a hot water bath,” he explained and covered the main cake pan with the custard and caramel with foil. “You bake it in the hot water.” Miguel tugged the oven door open and pushed the dessert inside. With a grunt of disgust, he set the timer for fifty minutes.
“Oh.” Her brow raised. “Shows you how much I know about baking.”
Miguel snickered but nodded toward the bottle of red wine on the counter. “Would you like a glass?”
“Always.” Rachel winked and pressed a kiss on his cheek.
“You pour. I’ll clean.”
She gripped the bottle and searched the top row of drawers until she found the corkscrew.
“Wine glasses are in that one.” Gesturing toward the cabinet above her head, he scrubbed the blender clean in the sink.
Rachel selected two glasses and rammed the corkscrew in the bottle. With a pop, the scent of blackberries and plums swarmed the small space. “Is merlot your favorite?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I like all wine, but I guess I lean toward dry reds. You?”
She poured and examined the bottle closer. “I like the sauvignon blanc you have at Pier Ninety-Two.” A grin overtook her lips and she winked. “I studied abroad in France one summer. Learned a lot about wine on that trip.”
“France?” Miguel frowned and wiped his hands on the dish towel. “Why there?”
Rachel handed him a glass as she sipped from hers. “Do I detect a hint of animosity, Mr. Rodriguez?”
He rolled his eyes and gestured to the back door. “No.” Miguel stepped outside and set his glass down on the patio table before moving to uncover the hot tub. “Just can’t understand why you’d choose a destination like France when you could have selected the cultural experience of a lifetime in Mexico.”
Rachel giggled. Her cheeks flushed again as she eyed his muscled tug on the cover and revealed the inviting water. After he tapped the big white button on the side of the tub, instant bubbles rose to the surface. The jets hummed to life with promise.
Miguel flipped the switch on the string of twinkle lights above their heads and grinned. His backyard was an invitation for romance. With a quick tap on his phone screen, the outdoor speakers piped out Yellowcard’s signature sound.
“There were only a few programs to choose from for my major.” She winked and took a large sip of wine. “Mexico wasn’t one of them.”
“That’s too bad.” A mischievous grin appeared as he tugged his shirt from his body and flung it across the table in her direction. “I feel like you missed out.”
Rachel dragged her gaze over his bare chest, charting a path down the burn scarring his torso. “Sounds like you’ll need to take me there one day then,” she teased.
“Considéralo una cita.” Miguel crawled into the hot tub. The warm water crashed over him, immediately relaxing his muscles as the steam tickled his face. Sighing with the contentment warming his heart, he pointed in her direction. “Did you bring your suit, or are you skinny dipping this evening?”
Her laughter fueled him, each giggly bubble bursting from her lips a bandage to his longtime damaged heart.
“I brought my suit.” She set her wine down on the table beside his and snorted. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Miguel winked and relaxed into the corner as she disappeared back into the house. The sun sank in the summer sky, bringing hues of orange and red to the evening scene. He closed his eyes and soaked in the moment. The unexpected reveal of truth in the kitchen fueled a sense of catharsis in his soul.
You’re so good for me, Rachel. In so many ways.
Resting his arms on the edge of the tub, he tipped his head back and gazed at the sky as Yellowcard’s violin serenaded his contented soul. Miguel willed the moment to freeze. “Raquel,” he whispered and closed his eyes.
“Hmm?”
The door slammed and his eyes snapped open. He took in her black and white polka-dot bikini hugging every curve, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Never mind. This is the moment I want to freeze.
“You’re staring,” she murmured and dropped two towels on the table. Rachel sipped her wine as the flush on her cheeks dipped lower to her chest.
“I can’t help it,” he muttered. Navigating across the bubbling tub, he leaned over the edge closest to the table. “We were in a dark storeroom—”
Her laughter stalled his words as the remaining daylight disappeared, the sun sinking behind the horizon. Rachel shook her head. “I still can’t believe we got locked in there overnight.” Rolling her eyes, she sat in a chair.
“Aren’t you getting in?”
“I am.” She nodded but tapped the screen on her phone. Holding it out toward him, she pointed. “This feels like weird timing, but...”
Ugh. What now?
“Mitch texted me while I was changing. Remember at the zoo how Lauren suggested we come over for dinner?”
His stomach churned and erased the moment of contentment. “Yes,” he grumbled and rested his chin on the edge of the hot tub.
“They’re inviting us over tomorrow. Dinner and drinks.”
Miguel frowned. “Oof.”
“I know.” Rachel tapped her foot against the wood beneath her feet and shrugged. “I can say no, but I get the feeling that it’s only a short-term cop out.”
Miguel inhaled a deep breath and lifted his gaze to hers. “I’m sure you’re right,” he muttered. “Let’s just get it over with, then.”
Rachel pressed her lips together and tapped out a reply. “Four o’clock,” she whispered and set her phone down on the table. “Are you sure?”
He cringed. “It’s just really weird, you know?”
“I do now.”
As he swallowed the bout of anxiety gripping his gut, his belly flip-flopped.
Rachel stood and lifted their glasses of wine. Handing him both drinks, she sat on the edge of the tub and swung her legs into the water. She slid down beside him and groaned the lower she went.
“Ugh, Heaven...” she murmured and submerged her body to her neck.
Miguel eyed the euphoria erupting on her face. Her happiness triggered an immediate flood of relief to course through his veins.
I’ll deal with Lauren and Mitch tomorrow...
“This is a-m-a-z-i-n-g,” she muttered and scooted closer.
He draped his arm over her shoulder, and a shiver sizzled along his skin as the wine took the reins over his brain. “I assume you mean the company,” he quipped.
She giggled and rested her head against his chest. “Yes, Miguel, the company.”
Elation consumed him, the moment one from only a half-recalled, hazy dream. Tugging Rachel closer, Miguel basked in the absolute perfection encasing his soul with her in his arms.
“Miguel?” she whispered.
“Hmm?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Anything,” he muttered and sipped the wine again. Blackberries lingered on his tongue, the taste of plum complementing the dry liquid.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before, either.”
What?
His heart stalled, frozen in his chest mid-beat.
“I thought I had,” she continued. “But now I’m not so sure.”
He blinked as the darkness surrounding them thickened, just the flicker of lightning bugs and the small strand of twinkle lights illuminating the deck.
“What changed your mind?”
“You,” she whispered and moved to straddle his pelvis. Rachel gripped the back of his neck with her wet palms. Her lips touched his in a passion-fueled kiss as she moaned, and his blood sizzled.
“Why?” he choked out as droplets of warm water trickled down the back of his neck.
Rachel took his wine and set it down beside hers. With a grin, she rubbed against his arousal beneath the water. “That day in the car. On the way to the zoo...”
Miguel moaned at her movement. “Mmm-hmm.”
“You told me that love is something two people share. Something two people experience together, not separate.”
“Yes,” he mumbled as his vision blurred.
“Then that means I’ve never been in love, until now, I think.”
His eyes shot open, connecting his gaze with hers as she held the back of his head.
“I thought I was in love with Ian,” she admitted. “But he didn’t love me back,” Rachel whispered, spilling her heart’s truth just as he had in the kitchen less than thirty minutes prior.
“He’s a fucking idiot.” Miguel pressed his lips to hers, moving his mouth with urgency as she quickened her pace beneath the water’s surface. Each thrust supercharged the emotional moment.
Hold on a second. Are you saying...
Miguel gripped her hips and begrudgingly stalled the rhythmic motion of her body. Peering into her brown eyes in the dim light, he squeezed her waist and took a chance.
“Rachel Prescott,” he whispered. “You say things in broken Spanish that make my heart burst. Your laughter is the primary reason I smile. And your nosy questions make me want to hold you in my arms and confess every secret in my soul.”
The intake of her breath egged him on, forcing the words in his heart outward.
“You understand my thoughts and feelings without batting an eye. You share my dreams, too, and in every way, you challenge and support me. The fact that you were still single boggles my mind.”
A sob penetrated his ear, gripping his heart like nothing experienced before.
“Oh, Miguel,” she whispered as his hands dropped to the string ties on her bikini bottoms.
He tugged at the material until the garment left her body. A shot of adrenaline surged through his system with physical and emotional need. Gripping his swim shorts, Miguel guided Rachel from his lap and yanked them free from his legs. Her intakes of quick breath tore at his soul, calling to his heart from the realm of passion.
“Raquel, I’m furious with my sister,” he murmured as she climbed back on top of him and untied her top.
A bark of laughter sailed from her lips as her body quivered, removing the remaining bits of cloth from her body. “Why?” she choked out.
“Because she spoiled my secret,” he whispered.
“What?”
His heart banged in his chest, forcing the blood in his veins to surge through his body on overdrive, zipping and dancing to every nerve cell imaginable. Sucking in a deep breath, he peered into her eyes as impending connection and vulnerability consumed his soul.
“I love you,” he whispered before the oven timer echoed through the kitchen window.
Fucking flan!