CHAPTER 20
Rachel
Rachel squeezed Miguel’s butt as he stood behind her kitchen island slicing tomatoes.
“Hey!” He snickered and flashed a grin. “Hands off my buns.”
Tugging out a bag of hamburger buns from the corner cabinet, Rachel winked. “But they’re my buns.”
Miguel rolled his eyes and zig-zagged a pattern of bright red tomato slices on a white ceramic tray. “What do you think?”
With a snort, she wrinkled her nose. “I usually just throw them in a bowl.”
“You are related to Rose, aren’t you?”
Rachel giggled. “Ryan is my twin. The world-renowned chef and I share a last name in common, but not a whole lot else.”
And not for much longer, actually.
“You look similar, too,” he muttered.
She nodded. “So I’ve been told.”
Miguel raised a brow and reached for an onion. Slicing it in two, he frowned at the knife in his hand. “When’s the last time you sharpened these?”
She shrugged. “They came sharp in the box.”
His exaggerated sigh echoed throughout the kitchen. “They came sharp in the box,” he repeated with wide eyes.
Laughing at the deepening crease on his forehead, she bonked the brim of his baseball hat. “Relax, Mr. Pier Ninety-Two. It’s just an onion. It doesn’t need to be sliced to perfection.”
He pressed a hand over his heart and groaned. “Sunshine, you don’t know me at all, do you?”
“Better than you think.” Rachel winked again and turned up the volume on the Yellowcard album before pointing to the knife. “Which means I’ll upgrade my kitchen supplies if you’re going to be cooking over here more often.” With a shrug, she snickered. “Before I met you, I mostly lived on Lean Cuisine microwave meals. And all I needed for those was a fork.”
Miguel sliced the first half of the onion and cringed. “Raquel,” he scolded.
“Oh, stop! Not all of us were made to cook. Some of us were born to have conversations with the person cooking.”
He chuckled. “Well, I can’t argue with that.”
With a grin, she ripped open the cellophane on three packages of ground turkey and turned to the cabinet housing her odds and ends of spices. “What do I season these burgers with?” She pulled out four plastic bottles and surveyed her options. Basil. Oregano. Chili powder. Cinnamon. “Basil, maybe?”
Miguel sprinkled the slices of onions over the tomato art and arranged them in a contrasting pattern. Frowning as he worked, he lifted his gaze to peer in her direction. “You want to season turkey burgers with basil?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know! Oregano then?” Pointing to the four little bottles of spices, she leaned back against the counter in defeat.
We can’t all be masters of the kitchen.
“Hang on a second.” Miguel turned to the sink and washed his hands. Gripping the dish cloth, he moved across the room to her side and eyed the minuscule selection of seasonings. “Do you even own salt and pepper?”
“No.”
“Dios mio.” He set the towel on the counter with a roll of his eyes and stuffed his hand in his right front pocket. Miguel pulled out his keys and dropped them in her hands. “The spice cabinet is just above the dishwasher.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Grab cumin, garlic powder, red pepper flake, salt, and pepper.
She nodded and toyed with his keys.
“It’s the gold one,” he murmured and pointed to the smallest key on the ring. “Opens the back door,” he added.
Rachel nodded and separated it from the others. Smiling as the tiny key rested in her palm, she lifted her gaze to Miguel and immediately fell into the love spell cast by his deep brown eyes.
He leaned forward and brought his mouth to hers. Passion and anticipation radiated from his kiss. His tongue tasted and explored.
She groaned and tumbled into his embrace, willing him to continue as each nerve cell in her body awakened at his sensual touch.
“On second thought,” he whispered and grabbed the keys from her fingers. “I want you to keep this one.” Miguel twisted the small gold key off the ring and placed it in her palm.
Her chest tightened. “You want me to keep this?” she whispered.
“Mmm-hmm. Now you can come over anytime you want.”
Oh, I like that idea.
Nodding as her cheeks flushed, she stepped away and grabbed her purse. Digging inside, Rachel searched until her keys scratched her palm. She singled out one of the duplicate teal keys inscribed with the word home and twisted it off the ring. Placing the key in his grasp, she peered into his eyes. “To my front door, Miguel Rodriguez.”
His kiss incited fire to burn in her veins, fueling her blood stream with heat and passion. Grinning against his lips, she moaned as his hands slipped beneath her t-shirt. Rising inch by inch, Miguel cupped her breasts.
She gasped as her belly tightened. “My family will be here any minute,” she choked out.
His hands disappeared, their sudden departure jarring as he stepped back with a frown. He rammed his eyes shut and lifted his arms to grip the back of his neck. “Cumin, garlic powder, red pepper flake, salt, and pepper, Raquel.”
Giggling at the pained look of deprivation on his face, she nodded and bolted out the back door. The blades of grass tickled her bare feet as she jogged across her backyard. Unlocking the back fence, she continued the journey toward Miguel’s yard, keeping her focus on the porch light above his backdoor.
She reached his deck in record time and skirted around the memories the hot tub held. Inserting the little gold key in the lock, she stepped into his home and smiled.
He gave me a key!
Rachel paused and inhaled his scent, taking in the immaculately kept kitchen and adjoining living room. Bypassing the spice cabinet, she tiptoed further into the house and released a breath. “Miguel,” she whispered and basked in the moment.
Her mind raced, calling forth the foundational memories of their relationship. From Pier Ninety-Two’s storeroom and the San Diego Zoo to McDonald’s with Izzy and an awkward double date at the Templeton Manor, the last two months whizzed by in a blur. Each snapshot grew the love in her heart for the boy next door.
She snorted. “Literally, the boy next door...”
With another smile, the courage swirling in her heart radiated to her fingertips. Rachel tugged out her phone and tapped Ian’s name. Inhaling a deep breath, she leaned into the moment and responded. Ian, I’ll always cherish the time we had together, but what we shared is in the past. I’ve moved on, and I think you need to as well. I’m sorry.
Nodding at the note, she swallowed and tapped send. “There, it’s done,” she whispered and pocketed her phone again. Relief crashed through her, absolving her of a week’s worth of confusion. Lifting her gaze to the cabinet above the dishwasher, Rachel moved back to the kitchen and grabbed the bottles of spices as directed.
With one last look at Miguel’s home, she smiled as a text buzzed against her hip. “I love you, Miguel,” she whispered and stepped outside.
The evening summer breeze whipped through her hair as she jogged back across the lawn. The unexpected field trip freed her. As she passed through the fence, Rachel eyed the bright lights beyond her patio door and the group now crowded in the kitchen.
“Oh, shit, they’re here!” she murmured and doubled her speed. Within seconds, she gripped the door handle and huffed out a breath as Rose scowled.
“Basil and oregano, Rachel? Really?”
Nice to see you too, Rose.
Rolling her eyes, she stuck her tongue out at Miguel and dropped his selected spices on the counter in front of her sister. “My expertise is in real estate, Rose. Not flavors and spices!”
Cole laughed and pulled her into a hug. “Always living up to your name, Rachel Ray.” He snorted. “Thanks for having us over and for letting these two cook.” He gestured toward Rose and Miguel, now side-by-side at the island tag-teaming the dinner prep.
Rachel play-punched him in the side. “I never once claimed to be a chef.”
Tess giggled. “Good thing, too, Rachel Ray.”
The worst nickname ever.
“Just ignore him,” Rachel muttered and shoved Cole toward the back door. “When did you guys get here?”
“Umm, like two minutes ago. Ryan is still outside, talking on the phone to the guy we hired to landscape the bungalow.”
Rachel nodded as the moment barreled into her heart. It was the first time Miguel would truly meet her picky twin. Her belly churned, rousing the sudden anxiety brewing in her blood.
“Don’t be nervous, Rach,” Tess whispered. “Ryan is really gonna like him.”
“Am I that obvious?” Rachel murmured and dragged her hands over her hot cheeks. Glancing out the front window, she eyed her brother pacing with his phone in hand. “Ryan never likes the guys I date.” She cringed. “And he hated Ian.”
“Miguel is nothing like Ian.” Tess giggled. “Come on, you’ve got the list to prove it.”
Rachel pulled Tess into a hug. Squeezing her petite body, she sighed. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Anytime.” Tess moved to the refrigerator and selected a beer. With a click-clack of her heels, she crossed the kitchen and pulled on the door, ready to follow Cole outside. The scent of campfire smoke billowed into the house and competed with the aromas of raw ground turkey.
“Rachel?” Rose called. “These are just about ready. Do you want to start the grill?”
Miguel tapped the counter. “I’ve got it. You ladies relax.” He winked and shadowed Tess into the backyard.
“You know...” Rose scooped up the dirty dishes and placed them in the sink. “I don't think Ian could have even opened a bag of charcoal without having an asthma attack.”
Rachel snickered and pictured the image in her mind.
Yep, that’s accurate.
“What’s so funny?” Ryan appeared in the doorway. His dirty work boots banged against the tile floor as he moved to the fridge and found a beer.
“Er, nothing. Rose just thinks she’s funny.”
Her sister sneered, but continued cleaning as Ryan turned and gripped his keys to pop off the IPA’s cap. “So, long time, no see, sis,” he murmured and leaned over the counter.
“Ryan! Ew!” Rose swatted at him. “You’re all dirty! Get away from the food!”
With a shrug, he backed away and rolled his eyes. “Been working all day! Give me a break!”
“Yeah, well, go wash your hands,” she grumbled and tugged the makings of the potato salad away from him.
“Fine.” With another shrug, Ryan slumped away down the hall.
“You’re crabby.” Reaching in the fridge, Rachel pulled out two more beers and used Ryan’s keys to pry the tops off.
“I’m not,” Rose defended. “Just prefer to keep dirt out of our dinner.”
Yikes.
“Can I help—”
“No,” she snapped and frowned at the dull knife in her hand mangling a potato. “Er, just go outside. I’ll finish this.”
“Aye aye, captain.” Rachel saluted her in jest and gripped the patio door. Grinning at Rose’s grumble, she hopped down the steps toward the grill.
Miguel lit a match and ignited the perfectly piled stack of charcoal. “You didn’t tell me Cole worked for the Rams, Rach!”
“Umm, I didn’t even know you liked football.” She flicked the brim of his Arizona Diamondbacks baseball cap and handed him a beer.
“I can get tickets anytime!” Cole called and poked the campfire with a large stick. Sparks shot into the evening sky, bringing light to the otherwise slowly darkening patio. “Let me look at their remaining home games, and I’ll get us a suite.” He dropped into a camp chair. “Rose never wants to go with me,” he muttered.
“Go where?” Ryan closed the patio door and joined the group.
“A Rams game,” she answered and elbowed him in the gut. Inhaling a whiff of the jasmine scented soap from her bathroom, she giggled.
“Well, I’m in. Cole hooked us up last year. Amazing seats,” he added and extended his hand in Miguel’s direction. “Hey, dude. I’m Ryan.”
Miguel gripped her brother’s hand and shook. “Nice to see you again.”
“Yeah, you too.” A crease formed on Ryan’s brow.
And... you have no clue...
“Er...” Rachel interjected. “You met Miguel for like eight seconds at the engagement party.” Her belly flip-flopped. Fighting with the sudden anxiety coating her stomach, she swallowed.
“Oh, right!” Ryan lifted his gaze to the sky. “So, you own Pier Ninety-Two then?”
Miguel nodded and peeked at the warming charcoal.
“You know Lauren Templeton?”
With a snort, Rachel gripped Ryan’s arm and squeezed. “I swear, you’re my parrot.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He frowned.
“Never mind. Oh, but hey, you two actually do share something in common.” Gulping down the air lodged in the back of her throat, she chuckled. “Ryan, Miguel is a huge fan of emo music. You wouldn’t believe the playlists he’s shared with me.”
Her brother’s eyes widened with intrigue as Tess cackled with laughter in her lawn chair behind them. “Oh, God! Not another one!” she whined.
“Really? What’re your favorite bands?”
The weight in her stomach disappeared as the smiles beside her widened. Snickering at their likely lengthy conversation ahead, she winked at Tess as familiar band names sailed through Miguel’s lips.
“It’s so hard to choose! I love My Chemical Romance and Yellowcard.” Miguel grinned. “But I’ve seen Fall Out Boy and Mayday Parade in concert at least six times each,” he continued. “Hey, did you see Sum 41 is calling it quits after twenty-seven years together?”
Miguel’s voice faded away as Rachel tiptoed toward Tess. She sank into a seat beside her and sighed, eyeing the stars appearing overhead.
“Big Dipper,” muttered Tess. Her arm lifted and pointed at the sequence of stars forming in the shape of a large pan. “Oh! And the North star, right there,” she added as excitement grew in her voice.
“Shall we get you a Celestron for Christmas?” Cole snickered and sipped his beer. “Wait, Rach, who was that guy again that came camping with us?” He shook his head and poked the fire. “You know, the one who liked all the planets and stars?”
“Ian,” Tess choked out.
Her ex-boyfriend’s name caught in her ear as Miguel laughed no more than ten paces away. His grin matched her brother’s. Both men chatted away about their shared love for music. Recalling Ryan’s dislike for Ian from the start, she felt a weight lift from her chest as she eyed his interest in holding a conversation with Miguel. From deep within, a bubble of hope blossomed in her soul.
As Ian’s text returned to her mind, Rachel gripped her phone and leaned toward Tess. “He texted again,” she whispered as Cole handed her the fire stick.
“Be right back,” he muttered and pointed at Rose’s solo form in the kitchen.
Rachel pushed the phone into Tess’s grasp. “I haven’t read it yet.”
Widening her eyes as the honor fell to her, Tess typed in her passcode and queued up the text. She scanned the note with a shake of her head. “Rach, maybe you should—”
“Just read it,” she begged. “This Ian stuff has to end.”
Nodding along, Tess snuck a peek at Miguel and Ryan before reading, That’s just it, Rach... I can’t move on. Not without you.
Tess cringed. “There’s a second text too,” she added. “Er, it’s a bit longer.”
Rachel groaned and extended her hand.
“Just remember, the list didn’t lie,” she muttered and stood, her out-of-place pink high heels clicking against the brick pavers.
The list didn’t lie.
Sneaking a final peek at Miguel and Ryan’s still lively conversation, her eyes fell to her phone, and she read, I know you’ve moved on. Any guy would be lucky to have you. But Rach, remember who I am. I helped you plan Rose and Cole’s engagement. I also helped you bring Ryan and Tess back together. I know how much you love and prioritize your family and how much they all depend on you. I know it. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it with you. Whoever it is you’ve moved on with, doesn’t have that history. He doesn’t know you the way I do. I want you back, Rachel Prescott. I miss you. I love you.
His words stung, piercing her flesh like a bee defending its queen to the death. Rachel closed her eyes and let his sentiment wash over her. His admission was truthful to the very last letter.
“Fuck,” she murmured and toyed with the fire stick. Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, Rachel prodded the flames and dropped a new log on the campfire. Her gaze lingered on Miguel’s retreating figure as he joined Rose, Cole and Tess inside.
“Did you know he’s had backstage passes to meet Blink-182, twice?” Ryan sank into the seat beside her and snorted. “Yellowcard is playing their twentieth anniversary tour of Ocean Avenue at the YouTube Theater in Inglewood next month. We’re going,” he announced. Grinning wildly, Ryan turned toward her.
“Are you dating him, or am I?”
He barked out a laugh. “For once, Rach, I really like the guy you picked.”
She smiled and gripped his knee. “So do I,” she whispered as Miguel reopened the patio door.
Carrying out a plate of burgers, he winked and made for the grill as her phone buzzed again.
*
Rachel stuffed the leftover burgers in a Ziploc bag and wedged them beside the depleted stash of beer on the middle shelf.
“Is there room for the potato salad?”
Turning to size up the dish in his hands, Rachel nodded. “Yeah, maybe, right here.” She rearranged the bottom shelf and shoved the ceramic dish inside. “There,” she murmured, but released a quick breath as his arms snaked around her middle.
“You have a wonderful family, Sunshine,” he whispered and pressed a kiss on the back of her neck. “Thank you for hosting dinner so I could meet them.”
His sincerity squeezed her heart. His sweet words tickled her skin as his grip on her hips tightened.
“I met every aunt you have.” Giggling at his comical, immediate groan, she turned to face him. “It’s only fair you meet my—”
Miguel’s lips connected with hers. Returning to the passion-filled moment before the party started, Rachel moaned and lifted her hands to cup his neck. His skin sizzled beneath her touch, heat infusing with her fingertips.
“I’ve been thinking about this for the past four hours,” he muttered and lifted her shirt over her head with ease.
The cool air kissed her bare skin. Grinning against his lips, Rachel moaned at the quick return of his palms on her breasts.
“Me too,” she whispered.
Among other things...
He toyed with the navy-blue lace as a growl rumbled in the back of his throat. Dipping a finger beneath the material on her left side, he skimmed her nipple.
Fire shot through her, the tantalizing twinge a direct path to the tightening sensation stirring in her groin. The breath of air in her throat stalled as he paused to pinch the bundle nerves, shooing away all other thoughts in her brain.
“Fuck,” she whined. “Do it again.”
He followed her demand, inciting a guttural groan to escape her lips.
“Hazme el amor, Raquel,” Miguel whispered and unhooked the tiny wire. “Right now.” The lacy material fell away and dropped to the kitchen tile. Cupping her bare breasts, he pressed his arousal into her middle.
“Upstairs,” she choked out with building excitement. “My bedroom is upstairs.”
Scooping her into his arms, he carried her to the narrow staircase off the dining room and bolted up the steps. Bypassing her room at first, Rachel giggled and shook her head. “Wait! In there!” She pointed and Miguel backtracked.
His ragged breath beat against her ear as he entered her room and faced the bed. Fresh with clean sheets and a smattering of decorative throw pillows, a smile touched his lips.
“Did you—?”
Rachel snickered as he lowered her to the mattress. “Buy new sheets, a bedspread, and throw pillows because I thought our night might end right here?” She giggled and spread her legs. Basking in the arousal swimming in her veins, she arched her back as his hands returned to her breasts. “I just might have.”
His sweet snickers gripped her ear as he trailed kisses along her neck, and his lips sank lower by the second. Heat blasted through her as he tasted each nipple, every innocent flick on her sensitive skin fueling the deepening desire.
“More,” she begged. Dragging her hands through his thick hair, she squeezed her eyes shut.
“More of what?” he teased against her flesh, tracing his tongue in a slow circle.
Rachel shivered and lifted her pelvis. “You fucking know what.”
His groans ignited the flames in her heart to erupt, warming her body from head to toe as his tongue and lips took turns.
Her brain fogged with a swirl of singular focus. Rachel gasped for breath as his fingers toyed with the zipper on her shorts, inching the tiny piece of metal lower and lower.
Miguel tugged on the fabric until it fell to the floor. As he dragged a finger over the lace outline of her panties, the pressure building in her belly doubled.
“More,” she whined and tugged at the hem of his t-shirt.
His fingers left her as he stood and removed his shirt in a single sweep. He tossed it to the bed beside her and unbuckled his belt. His gaze raked over her full body.
“Eres tan hermosa,” he whispered and dropped his shorts to the floor. The belt buckle clanked against the hardwood.
Rachel eyed the last bits of fabric hugging his body and dragged a hand along her bare thigh. Resting her fingers at the top of the lace still adorning her body, she sighed.
“Tell me what you want, Sunshine,” he whispered and gripped the waistband of the lace. Removing the panties from her skin, Miguel pressed a kiss on her inner thigh. “Show me what feels good.”
Heat warmed her cheeks as a sudden rush of realization struck, lifting the haze-like, adrenaline-fueled fog from her brain in a single whoosh. Swallowing the air lodged at the back of her throat, Rachel rested her fingers above her belly button—frozen in the moment—willing her broken past away from her heart for good as Miguel’s gaze held her in place.
“Rach...” he whispered. “What’s—”
She shook her head and cupped her cheeks. “I’m sorry—”
“No apologies.” He pressed a hand over her heart. “If you don’t want—”
No!
“No, that’s not it.” She brought his hand to her lips. Pressing a kiss on each fingertip, the tender moment sank in her soul.
Miguel’s dark eyes caught in the light of the moon streaming in through the window. He brushed the strands of hair away from her face and sighed.
The ghost of every man before him drifted away. The moment returned as her heart released Ian’s final pleas and closed the chapter on their relationship.
For good.
The words hovered on the tip of her tongue, silently stalling as her brain caught up with her heart. Relishing the heat emitting from Miguel’s skin as he tugged her closer, she pressed a kiss on his lips. His sweet moan and muscled embrace ignited the courage in her soul, and the words tumbled out, both truthful and sincere.
“This isn’t just sex for me,” she whispered.
“Me either, Sunshine.” He tilted his head and trailed a finger along her neck, sinking lower between her breasts.
Her heart beat wildly. The gentle touch of his finger spurred the breath in her lungs to fight for freedom.
“It’s love,” he whispered and lowered his mouth to hers. “You’re my only one.”
Butterflies danced in her belly. Breathing into the comfort and safety his words offered, Rachel closed her eyes. “My only one,” she repeated in a whisper and led his fingers to the source of all pleasure.
He moaned as she guided his hand. While he slid a single finger inside, her back arched, craving more.
“I want to feel you inside me,” she pleaded as his finger teased in and out, in and out. “Miguel, please,” she whined.
The pressure disappeared as he stood and dropped his boxers to the floor, completing their array of scattered clothing. Gripping his length, he swallowed and brought the tip of his arousal to her entry. With a soft moan, he placed a kiss on her forehead.
“Rachel Prescott, I remember the day I first got your email.” He lowered his lips to her neck. “I didn’t know you, but I felt your words. I felt your soul somehow, screaming for mine through the screen.”
“Mmm,” she hummed and locked onto his innocent gaze.
“On the night we met, I stared at you through the window for the full party, just building up the courage to come out and say hello.”
The recall flitted through her brain, bringing the moment to her mind in the heat of passion.
“I knew I had to meet you,” he added and pushed the tip of his length inside her.
Her mind fogged all over again, blurring his words with desire and passion. She groaned and arched her back, the gentle pressure a true tease.
“Knew I had to hold you in my arms...” Miguel pushed himself in further. “Learn your soul...” He shivered. “And Rach?”
Desire tingled along every nerve in her body, glistening her skin with a light sheen of sweat. She silently begged for more as his words soothed her soul. “Hmm?”
“Your heart is mine now.”
“It’s yours,” she whispered as he slid fully inside.
Miguel moved, escalating his rhythm thrust for thrust. Sweat coated his skin as his body met hers, uniting their shared admission in a bed of passion.
Pressure built in her lower belly as his fingers returned to tease her nipples, pinching until her raw flesh screamed with agony. Her pulse quickened. The roar in her ears grew and sent a flood of adrenaline through her veins.
Miguel whispered her name before he came undone, his sweet mutters in Spanish granting permission for her to follow. Swallowing the passion swelling in her body, Rachel gave in to the sweet release.
His breath rang ragged in her ear as he collapsed on top of her—heartbeat for heartbeat in the silence of the bedroom.
Gasping for air, she wrapped her arms around him and snuggled into the crook of his neck. With a soft kiss on his throat, Rachel sighed and basked in the glow of love.
Pure love.
And Ian, a light-year away from her heart.