California Heart Series, Book 3
Contemporary Romance
Date Published: 04-17-2024
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Heartbroken and mortified by mean-spirited taunts and social media pictures of her looking like a hot mess at her ex-boyfriend’s wedding, Leah James decides to accept her friend, Miguel Montoya’s, offer to take a road trip to their hometown of Santa Lorena.
Miguel, ex-Marine turned fitness trainer, is done pretending that he doesn’t have strong feelings for Leah. From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was the one, and now this trip provides the perfect opportunity to take their relationship to the next level.
Will shocking lies, deceits, and half-truths dampen the fiery sparks of passion that ignite when Leah and Miguel are forced to share a cozy honeymoon cottage, or will they overcome their fears and build a brighter future based on honesty and love?
Chapter 9
Leah
That was an eye opener. I didn’t know Miguel
had someone in Santa Lorena. What had the woman said? Something about him not
having any clothes on. I’m happy for him, even if I’m disappointed that he
can’t come get me.
As soon as the cocky stranger retreats outside, I hop off the
couch, grab my clothes, then run to the bathroom to throw on my clothes. The
more I think about it, the more I’m certain that I over reacted. The guy has
got to be doing some construction work on the house, hence the tool belt and
the key to let himself inside.
A pink t-shirt and my powder-blue jeans are perfect for
hanging out around here. Since Miguel is busy with his girlfriend, I have got to talk to someone now. While
heading into the kitchen, I call Jenny.
“So, what’s the skinny?” Jenny asks as soon as she picks up
the phone. “Did you talk to your dad to find out what he’s doing with the
student?”
“Jenny,” I say, exasperated. “You really have to control your
imagination. That is absolutely not what’s going on here.” I open a few
cabinets, looking for the cereal, which I find in the pantry between containers
of flour and sugar.
“Oh.” She sounds disappointed. “I guess I was wrong then. So,
your father said there was no hanky-panky, huh?”
“I didn’t ask him.” Opening the refrigerator, I find some
almond milk and decide it will do fine for my bowl of cereal. “They were gone
when I woke up.”
“What?” Sighing loudly, she continues, “Are you saying you didn’t
talk to him about the woman in his house?”
I can imagine her shaking her head. “She is not a woman.” I
pour the granola in a bowl. “She’s a girl.”
“Do you know how crazy that sounds?” Her signature loud laugh
echoes through the phone. “You said she’s in her mid-twenties.”
“At the most. Maybe younger.”
“Well, in any case, being in her twenties qualifies her for
adulthood. Stop fooling yourself. We aren’t that
much older that you don’t remember what it was like to have a crush on one of
our handsome professors.”
“I remember no such thing.” I should have known Jenny would
refuse to see logic, what with her magic incantations and spells. “There’s no
hocus-pocus going on here.”
“No. I’d say not.” She chuckles. “If you don’t want to
remember Professor Larsen, our very bohemian art history teacher, well, good
for you. Even I was attracted to him,
and that’s saying something.”
“Okay.” Of course, I remember him, but I’m not about to share
that with her so she can gloat in satisfaction. My father is nothing like
Professor Larsen, who had loads of sex appeal. He’d probably been in his late
thirties or early forties, tall and rangy-looking, with a slightly disheveled
look, messy hair, and crumpled clothes that looked like they’d been purchased
at a secondhand store. He’d consistently appeared excited to discover he was
teaching art to an excited group of students who he may or may not have noticed
were mostly female. “I didn’t ask my father about the living situation because,
by the time I came back in the house, they were in bed.”
“Together?”
“Jenny!” After choking on my cereal, I wipe my mouth with a
napkin. “No.” Although, really… how would I know? But the thought is too
ridiculous to seriously consider.
“Go check now,” she orders. “See if it looks like she’s using
the second bedroom and he’s using the other one.” Jenny can be very bossy.
Normally, I admire her directness, but not so much right now.
“I’m not going to snoop around my father’s house.” I chew on a mixture of
crushed almonds, coconut shreds, and pumpkin seeds. Obviously, this cereal is
eaten for the health benefits, not the flavor.
“Don’t be silly,” she says impatiently. “That’s exactly why
you can snoop. All kids wait until their parents leave the house before they
embark on a treasure hunt to discover what bounty they can unearth—candy bars,
love letters, perfume samples, etc. You apparently missed out on some of those
important developmental milestones. Go now and call me back when you’re done.”
“I’m not sure,” I say hesitantly, while the idea begins to
make sense. After all, they aren’t here, and it will just take a minute.
Taking my bowl to the sink, I quickly wash it, then set it on
the drying rack. “Okay, you’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion.
You’ll see I’m right.”
“Want to bet?” she asks eagerly.
“Not really.” Now that I’ve decided to check out the rooms,
I’m eager to get off the phone, so I can prove my point.
“If I win—or perhaps I should say when you see that they are sharing a room—you owe me a crystal of
my choice.”
“Fine. And you owe me one when you find out
that she’s renting a room.”
After disconnecting, I set my phone on the table and walk to
the back of the house. My father’s room is the first door on the right.
I twist the nob and look inside. Same teakwood headboard on
his double bed that is clearly unsuitable for two people. The beige curtains
cover two windows, and the oblong brown-and-beige rug is on the floor at the
foot of the bed.
Stepping inside, I make my way to the dresser where there’s
one bottle of expensive designer cologne. My hand shakes as I pick up the
bottle, looking for an indication if it’s for a male or female—but there’s no
designation either way. Maybe I should check in the closet. If the girl’s
sleeping in this room, she’ll have to have some clothes in the closet.
Just as I’m about to slide open the door panels, a deep voice
behind me says, “What do you think you’re doing?”
It’s the construction guy, a drill in one calloused hand, and
a stern expression on his lean face.
“Hey.” Startled, I jerk away from the closet door and hit my
hip against the sharp corner of the dresser. “Ow.” I rub the spot where the
wood jutted out. “I’m looking for something.” Women’s clothes to be exact, but
he does not need to know that. “I could ask you the same question. What are you doing here?” I feel guilty but also
apprehensive since I’m alone with a stranger. Truth is, he probably does
know what’s going on here, even if I don’t.
“I’m working on the other room.” He tilts his head across the
hall. “I didn’t mean to startle you this morning.” He looks at me sheepishly, a
grin beginning to spread on his face. “I’m Aaron and you’re a friend of the
professor?”
My face grows warm and I look down as I remember the short
pajamas I was wearing earlier. No need to think about that, not when I have
things that are more important on my mind. Maybe I should befriend him since
he’s apparently harmless and knows more about my father’s situation than I do.
“You’re not…” His brown eyes are filled with questions. “… an
acquaintance or should say friend of the professor, are you?”
“No, I’m not.” My response is quick since I’m unsure of the
direction he’s heading. Obviously, Jenny’s gotten into my head with her
overactive imagination. Not knowing when Melissa or my father will return home,
I am now eager to leave the room.
Edging my way past him, I can’t help but notice how he
smells—like a combination of sweat and musk, a strangely appealing mix on him.
“I’m Leah Ann.”
“Nice to meet you, Leah Ann.” Grinning, he follows me out of
the room into the hall. “Is that one word or two?”
“Two.” I’m on a mission and not in the mood for small talk,
even if Aaron appears to be a decent guy. “Don’t let me stop you from doing
your job.” Glancing past him, I focus on the second bedroom door that he’s
blocking. I feel like reaching around and grabbing the handle. And why
shouldn’t I? It’s my father’s house after all—the place that I spent time in
during school breaks. It doesn’t matter if I had fun or not.
“What, with the other room being taken, I guess you had to
sleep on the sofa.” Scrunching his nose, he makes a face. “Doesn’t look that
comfortable.”
“It was okay,” I lie, remembering how uncomfortable I’d been.
“Here.” He slips a hand into his back pocket, pulls out a
business card, then hands it to me. “At your service. My number’s there if you
need me.”
I take a minute to read the card. Aaron Wong. Construction. His name is in bold, blue print, with a
picture of a red crane in the background. A phone number, website, and a
contractor’s license number are listed. “I won’t be needing this, but thanks
anyway. I’ve got no plans to remodel anything. I’m just visiting my dad for a
couple of days.” Feeling awkward about entering the other room now with him
looking on, I saunter past the closed door.
“Really?” Following me down the hall, he adds, “I didn’t know
the professor had a daughter.” He nods, looking at me appreciatively. “You must
be excited.”
“I am,” I say confidently, having no idea what he’s talking
about, but I don’t want Aaron to know how little I know about what’s going on
in my father’s life. “Very,” I say emphatically. I’m eager for him to go so I
can finish my snooping. What am I supposed to be excited about? It would be too
weird for me to ask him what he means. After all, we are talking about
my father. “Don’t let me hold you up.” I wave a hand. “I know construction runs
on deadlines.”
“We’re just getting started.” He lays a hand on his tool
belt. “I’ve been working for the professor for a while.” He shrugs. “I do odd
jobs here and there, although this is a bigger project. Anyway, it’s nice
meeting you.”
“Nice meeting you, too.” I wave my hand
again, before shoving the door closed.
After he leaves, I rush to the other room. As I’m about to
enter the bedroom, I hear someone at the front door. Impatient, I rush back
down the hall to see who’s here now.
“I thought of something.” Aaron’s hands are jammed in his
pockets as he stands on the porch, a sheepish expression on his face.
“Yes?” How am I supposed to inspect the other room if Aaron
keeps distracting me? I slowly uncurl my fingers from where they clutch the
door handle. It’s too early for either Melissa or my father to be returning any
time soon—or… is it? What if he has only one class to teach today and Melissa’s
running an errand that takes a short time to complete? “Did you forget
something?”
“You’re here to spend some time with your
father, right?”
“Correct.” Now I’m puzzled. He now wants to talk about how
I’m going to spend my time? I glance at my watch.
“Probably Melissa, too, am I right?”
“Hmm.” Saying no could be construed as rude, so I
murmur something unintelligible. Why
is this man assuming that I’d want to spend time with one of my father’s
students? Strange.
“I know you said you’re only going to be around for a couple
of days, but there is a new Italian restaurant in town.” With a grin, he holds
out a hand. “Do you like Italian?”
“I do.” He has a great smile and his tattoos are sexy, but
I’m not interested in going out with anyone at this time—even someone as
ruggedly attractive as Aaron.
“Great. Want to get a bite to eat later? How about six? I can
pick you up or we could meet in town.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I’m good.” This guy works fast.
Maybe if I lived here, I’d take a chance since Raymond has someone and so does
Miguel. But I need to stop hanging onto the past and move forward. “I’ll be
gone in a couple of days, so…”
“Say no more. It’s cool. You have my
number.”
As he walks out the door, I hear him call out, “Call me if
you change your mind. You have to eat while you are here.”
About the Author
Dalia Dupris has been a book lover as long as she can remember. Dalia’s BA in English Literature from UCLA and Master’s degree in Social Work, from the University of Southern California, in addition to years of experience as a licensed psychotherapist, contribute to her creation of relatable and complex characters.
In her spare time, she enjoys bike riding along the California coast with her husband, and hiking with her daughter. She loves hearing from her readers. Their words of encouragement inspire her to continue creating memorable characters, who will make you laugh and cry and keep rooting for them until the very last page. Subscribe to her website for a chance to learn more about Dalia and her books.
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