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?
EXCERPT
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.
Contact Links
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