New Historical Romance Series
James’ Story
Next year I will be releasing a few new series, including ‘The European Series’, ‘Stoking the Fire’, and a ‘Shifter’ series. The first release will be a grumpy/sunshine romantic comedy entitled ‘The Spaniard’.
Here is an excerpt from ‘The Spaniard’:
The Spaniard
Rafael
Kit actually proved to be more helpful to the police than they thought she would. I think they assumed she had been drinking too, but, as it turned out, she was completely sober. She could detail at least three of the guys who took my sister from a club she was too young to be at. Thea is only seventeen and should have been having a sleepover at her friend’s house. Yeah, some friend. I warned Mama that Ava was a bad influence. Being a year older than Thea, she’s found the club scene with a bang and thought it would be a good idea to dress Thea up beyond her years so they could go together. She didn’t think about Thea when she left with some guy, leaving my sister all alone without even telling her.
I was ready to march myself around her house and lose my shit, but Thea’s already lost eyes pleaded with me not to. Trust me, it’s a temporary reprieve for Ava; if nothing else, her parents will be informed of the true extent of their daughter’s recklessness. Seeing as her father works for the Castillo financial empire, I can’t see them being too happy with her. Andres Sanchez is not a man who you want to make unhappy, especially if you’re his daughter and you’ve jeopardized his managerial position in one of the most successful financial companies in Europe. The bitch more than deserves to have Daddy lose his temper with her after what she did to Thea.
I’ve been enjoying the image of when I tell Andres Sanchez about his wayward daughter when I realize Bruno now staring at me as though I owe him answers. Kit is right beside him, looking just as expectant as he does. I notice him take a moment to glance at her while she’s not looking; he’s fallen hard for her, I can tell.
“So…? Can you take Kit home, Rafe?” he asks.
“Why can’t you?” I snap, making the girl look to the ground with an embarrassed hue.
“There’s an emergency at work,” he says with an impatient groan, “it will be quicker for me to go straight from here. Besides, I think you owe Kit after everything.”
“It’s ok, I can get a taxi, or walk…” she trails off and I instantly feel obliged to get this girl home safely. After that, she’s not my problem.
“Get in the car,” I sigh, “it’s on my way anyway.”
“Ok,” she mutters like a child.
“Don’t let him get to you, Kit, he’s just an asshole. We all think so.” Bruno laughs as I give him the finger. “Are we still ok for tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, ok,” she laughs nervously, blushing brighter than a tomato.
“What’s happening tomorrow night?” I ask, enjoying the sight of them both squirming.
“A little drinking, a little dining, and hopefully, a lot of fun,” Bruno replies with his usual relaxed persona coming through.
“Sounds great, what time?” I tease, to which he gives me the finger.
“Until tomorrow, Kit,” Bruno says softly to her, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. I watch as she freezes up under his touch with an expression that shows the attraction is very much one-sided. Poor Bruno, someone should tell him.
“Bye,” she replies with a nervous laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear as she steps away from him. I guess Bruno isn’t used to girls not wanting him back, he can’t see the way she flinches under his touch, at his hooded eyes, and his softly, softly approach.
“Adios, Carina,” I tease before about turning to unlock my car which beeps its response to my key fob.
As I hit the air conditioning up high, Kit jumps up into the seat beside me. She avoids looking at me and tries to huddle as small as possible; she’s nervous. I’m not interested in small talk, so I put on the stereo and pull out without another word. The beach soon appears on her left as we drive along the strip. Tourists are already claiming their sun loungers while the beach bars are just opening up for the day. She appears to be watching all of this with intent. Either that, or she’s trying to get through this journey without having to interact with me at all.
“I’m hungry,” I declare as I turn into one of the bars that serve breakfast.
“Oh, ok,” she says nervously, reluctantly turning to watch me pull into a driving spot. “I can walk from here. Thanks for getting me this far.”
“When I say I’ll get a girl home, then I get the girl home,” I tell her as I get out of the car. “You’re coming with me.”
She’s quick to follow and I smile smugly; my attitude is starting to crack her nervous disposition. I can see she’s annoyed but this only makes it all the more entertaining for me. She still doesn’t say anything to me, but she follows me by means of a hunched shuffle, the whole time keeping behind my back.
As we enter a bar that Bruno and I often frequent, usually after a night out, Miguel waves from behind the bar to welcome me in. We’ve known each other forever, but we moved in different circles. It’s never come between us, neither do we ever mention the fact that I’m an ex-private school student and he’s a high school dropout. He loves his life without the need for money in it, so why should it be an issue?
“Miguel, busy?” I ask as we slap hands in greeting.
“Not yet, Rafe, tourist season has only just opened up; plenty of time for things to get busy,” he says with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “This is the best time of year, trust me.”
“Always, my friend, always,” I reply as I whip off my glasses and place them on top of my head. I rub my tired eyes. Sleep wasn’t much of an option last night, not after what happened to my little sister. Mama stayed up to make sure she’d be ok, even after the doctor said she would be. My emotions were too high to calm myself into slumber, so I paced about in between calling people who might have known who dared to take her.
“Who’s this?” Miguel juts his chin out toward the curious girl behind me. Her hair is now looking like a perfect mess and she’s fanning herself with her hand. She’s too fair to handle the kind of heat we have over here.
“This is the girl who was with my sister last night, right before I found her,” I say quietly, clenching my jaw over the memory of it. I notice Miguel looking her over with curiosity. He doesn’t stop until he notices me staring back at him with a scowl on my face. I have no idea why his gawking at her should bother me, I suppose after what happened to my sister, I’m feeling sensitive towards women at the moment.
“Yeah, sorry,” he says awkwardly, rubbing at his neck and averting his gaze, “Bruno told me what happened. Any leads yet?”
“No,” I reply with a sigh, returning my expression to neutral, “but she just gave a statement to the civil guard. They seemed quite positive about the details she gave.”
“And if they do find them?” he asks with a smile that tells me he can already guess as to what I’ll do.
“Let’s just say they won’t be able to hurt another girl in that way ever again,” I tell him bluntly.
“Fair enough. You willing to share kicking their asses when the time comes?” he asks. Miguel is usually a fairly placid kind of guy, but I know he has a vicious side if needed. Having grown up with three sisters, two of them younger than he is, disrespecting a woman is a huge no-no in his book.
“I’ll bear you in mind,” I laugh with him. “Kit?” I call out, still with my back to her.
“Hmm, what?” she says after a few moments, probably surprised that I’ve acknowledged her.
“This is Miguel, you need to tell him what you’d like for breakfast,” I tell her as I retrieve my wallet from my back pocket.
“Oh, I’m fine thanks,” she says with nervous laughter. Miguel grins at me, knowing I’m being an ass, so I turn around to face her. She takes in a gulp of air, telling me I’m scowling, even though I hadn’t intended to.
“Please, let’s not do this merry dance,” I begin with a bored sigh, “just tell the man what you want, or I’ll order you the same as me.”
“What are you having?” she asks, all the while Miguel leans on top of the bar, just watching the both of us.
“Callos Madrile?os,” I reply, causing Miguel to shake his head at me with silent laughter.
“What’s that?” she asks, looking curious.
“A traditional Spanish dish from Madrid,” I tell her, “Miguel’s mama makes hers with morcilla, Spanish blood sausage, but some prefer to use ox cheek.” I notice her nose screwing up in disgust, just as I thought she might. I have yet to meet an English tourist who chooses to eat offal, whereas my sister and I were brought up on dishes that use the whole animal, not just the cuts that are considered more palatable. Of course, I do not eat such dishes for breakfast; I am just teasing her. “The main ingredient is tripe. Miguel always uses honeycomb, for it is the most tender type you can buy.”
“Oh,” she murmurs, looking positively green. Miguel has now turned his back on us; if you look carefully at him, you can see his shoulders shuddering with his laughter.
“So, you want to join me?” I ask as if I haven’t noticed how pale she’s turned over such a prospect.
“Er…do you have anything a little lighter on the stomach? I’m not used to eating such delicacies in the morning. Perhaps some fruit or yoghurt?” she asks, looking toward Miguel who has had to cough away his laughter and plaster on a serious expression for her. He looks incredibly uncomfortable.
“Of course,” he says in a professional tone of voice, “how about a fruit salad? Perhaps a croissant for after?”
“Perfect,” she almost shouts, beaming from ear to ear.
I hold out my hand toward a table near the back and she begins walking. I take one last look at Miguel who calls me a bastard and begins silently laughing again.
“Eggs?” Miguel mutters.
“As always,” I reply with a wink.
Kit
This is not what I came away for, being subjected to eating in front of one of the most attractive and moody people I’ve ever met. I feel sick and he’s about to eat tripe in front of me. And not just any tripe, tripe full of holes. The thought grosses me out, let alone seeing it in the flesh. I don’t have an issue with offal if that’s your bag, but the honeycomb bit? This girl has trypophobia, a fear of holes. Though I wouldn’t call it a fear, more of a gross-out. I can’t even bear crumpets.
“Are you ok?” Rafael asks me, looking at me like I’m one sandwich short of a picnic. Just to finalize that assessment, I give him a maniacal kind of smile. “You just shuddered.”
“Are you really having that honeycomb tripe dish?” I almost whisper for I know he’s going to tease me for this.
“Alas, Miguel has run out,” he says with a smirk of satisfaction over my discomfort. When he sees me sigh with relief, he furrows his brow as if he’s genuinely confused by me. “Are you vegetarian or something?”
“Something,” I reply on a sigh. He simply keeps staring at me, urging for an explanation without the possibility of me getting out of it. “It’s the pattern of holes, it creeps me out.”
He keeps staring, unblinking, unfaltering in his emotionless expression.
“It’s called tryp-“
Before I can complete the word, he bursts out laughing, shaking his head the whole time. I feel even smaller than I did before. The bastard keeps laughing even when Miguel, the barman, brings over our breakfast. Even then he remains grinning at me, enjoying the fact that I’m now sitting with my arms firmly crossed and scowl upon my face.
“Gracias,” I murmur to Miguel who gives me a friendly smile before walking off. I think he knows his friend is being an arse, even if he doesn’t know the whys or hows, it’s obvious.
“I’m glad my condition amuses you,” I sneer, “I should have guessed this would be your reaction; you’ve been uber-friendly so far.”
“You think I’m an asshole?” he asks with his arrogant grin still in place.
“No,” I mutter, to which he looks at me like I’m a giant liar. “I know you’re one.”
I expect him to give me hell, to call me a whole host of names, but instead, he laughs again, to the point he has to wipe away a few tears with his hand. I slam my body back against the chair and roll my eyes, waiting for the bastard to stop. I’m left waiting a long time. However, after a few moments of looking at his face melt away its usual moody expression, and instead light up with mirth, I can’t help but smile. My smile soon turns into a giggle.
“I guess you’re right,” he says as begins to calm down, still wiping away tears of laughter from his eyes. For a moment or two, we stare at one another, as though calling a momentary truce over our breakfast. I have to admit, I'm starving.
"It’s beautiful here,” I say with a contended sigh. The sun is steadily rising to its peak and the sea is almost flat calm. The sound of waves crashing gently upon the shore has me calming my breathing back to normal. I close my eyes and let my other senses consume the beauty of everything in the here and now.
“It is, but I guess when you see it every day you forget to notice,” Rafael says, speaking to me like a normal person for the first time since I met him. When I open my eyes, he’s looking right at me. With his intensely chocolate brown eyes looking right into mine, I lose myself in them a little. “Why are you over here by yourself?”
“That’s a little personal, isn’t it?” I ask, though I’m still smiling.
“It’s an obvious question, why avoid it?” he asks with a casual shrug. “Do you have something to hide?”
“Not at all,” I reply defiantly, “but if I tell you, you have to be nice.”
“I am rarely nice,” he says bluntly, “especially to strangers.”
“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath, “you’re a barrel of laughs, aren’t you. If you must know, my best friend just got married.”
He looks at me with only a hint of confusion between his brows, though it still manages to make me feel inadequate. I’m beginning to wish I could stuff the words back inside of my mouth if for no other reason than it still hurts too much to acknowledge it all out loud.
“And you were competing for who got married first?” he asks with a judgmental quirk of his brow. “Forgive me, but you are an adult, are you not? Your so-called problem sounds like one of a child.”
I just stare at him, feeling nothing but disdain for this awful human being who thinks he’s so much better than me. How dare he judge me when he hardly even knows me? All I ever did was risk my own safety to save his sister and yet here he is, trying his best to make me feel pathetic.
“Can you take me back home please?” I ask him without any emotion, dropping my spoon into the bowl with a loud clatter.
“Why?” he asks, all the while continuing to eat his eggs, which I hope get stuck in his throat.
“Because I’m not enjoying the company and I think I’ve given enough of my time to someone who clearly has no respect for me,” I reply, crossing my arms defensively.
He looks at me for a moment, gradually lifting the corner of his mouth into a satisfied smirk. This time, I stare right back at him, no longer feeling intimidated. His handsome face has just been tainted by his ugly attitude. I’ll be more than happy to never see him again. I’m half tempted to cancel my date with Bruno just to ensure Rafael and I never run into one another again.
“Miguel,” he calls without taking his eyes away from my furious ones. “La cuenta, mi amigo.”
As soon as Rafael has put down the notes to pay for breakfast, I’m up on my feet and huffing my way out of the bar and toward the car. I listen to the men laughing with one another, no doubt at my expense, and silently curse the both of them. The sheer arrogance of this man amazes me. He saunters out while casually putting his aviators into place, opening his ridiculous car with his key fob. The fact that he’s so cool and casual makes him even more irritating. I bet Luca would love him; they’re just as cocky as one another.
“After you,” he says as he opens the door for me.
“Don’t bother,” I reply bitterly, “I already know there’s not a gentlemanly bone in your body.”
“You don’t know that,” he says before closing the door and walking around to get in the other side. “Perhaps I’m just this way with you.”
Those words are the final straw to make me go volcanic on his arrogant arse. What do I have to lose? Hopefully, this is our final encounter. As he starts the engine, I turn to glare at him, as well as switch off the stereo with a bang of my hand on the knob. His only reaction is to smile with his perfect teeth.
“Just what the hell is your problem?” I gasp with rage. “All I ever did was stop a bunch of perverts from molesting your sister and yet you’ve been nothing but vile to me.”
“Vile is a bit strong,” he laughs, “I bought you breakfast.”
“And yet, I stand by it,” I declare. “You’ve been looking down on me since the moment you saw me, why?”
“Honestly?” he says with a tone that suggests he’s about to tear me to pieces.
“Honestly,” I reply calmly.
“I don’t have a lot of time for girls who purposely put themselves in danger,” he says with anger now clenching at his jaw. “My sister did just that by trusting a girl who is just like you are. Laughing in the face of risk to try and prove something to themselves. Did you even think about those people who would be absolutely devastated if something were to happen to you?”
“What?!”
“Yeah, Carino (sweetheart),” he snaps, using his hand to flap about the place all the while he loses his shit with me. “You laughed in their faces last night, and what’s more, I bet you’d do it again. No doubt about it!”
“Wait, let me get this straight,” I manage to say even though I can only see red in front of me, “I go out of my way to save your sister from a fate that is so abhorrent, it’s hard to even think about, yet I’m somehow the arsehole in all of this?”
“You put yourself in danger before you saw my sister,” he mutters bitterly. “Going out at gone midnight in a foreign country, near the clubs in towns that are full of drunken idiots.”
“I could be a judo champion for all you know, you pompous git,” I snap, “and I was on the phone to my brother the whole time.”
“Fat lot of good that would be if someone were to attack you,” he argues. “You sit in that bar telling me about your fear of holes – holes, for Christ’s sake – and some ridiculous gripe over your friend getting married before you, not even considering what really could have happened last night!”
“Tell me, Rafael, man who only met me last night and has no idea about me whatsoever, did you give your poor sister this speech this morning or are you saving it for another day?” I growl, averting my gaze from him before I slap his smug face. “I don’t know who you think you are but leave me out of it. When you’ve dropped me home, please forget I exist.”
“Believe me, Carino, I most certainly will,” he mutters, “I have no desire to get involved with someone who has no sense or intellect when it comes to self-preservation.”
“Involvement? What’s that supposed to mean?” I turn to face him with adrenaline coursing through my veins. I feel about ready to throw myself from this car just to get away from him.
“I mean I’ll be talking to Bruno about going out with you,” he says, with a completely serious face. Who is this man?!
“Excuse me, who the hell do you think you are? You might be used to everyone else bowing down at your feet, but you can get over yourself if you think I will. If I want to go out with Bruno, I will. He’s a nice guy, unlike you!”
“Well, tough shit,” he snaps, “Bruno and I have been friends since we were children, I think we both know who he’ll listen to.”
“Well, more fool him. I might be reckless in your eyes, but at least I’m not judgmental, conceited, and downright rude.”
He doesn’t say anything, just keeps his eyes trained on the windscreen with his jaw clenched in anger. I turn to look out the window, willing the sight of the Mediterranean sea to soothe my anger. I’m here to try and recuperate and be me again, and this dude is completely ruining it.
By the time he pulls into the drive of my parents’ villa, I’m already grabbing for the handle to get out of his him-smelling car.
“Thanks for the ride,” I grumble as I lean forward to get out, but he grabs hold of my other wrist before I can fully put this hideous trip behind me. “Jeez, what now?”
“Promise me you won’t go out past dark on your own again,” he says, looking strangely serious.
“Why the hell do you care?”