Seaside Kisses Page 5

  "Talking weddings and babies," Brayden said.

  "And you guys didn't want to join them?" Rafael asked, chuckling.

  "Jake did," Brayden teased.

  "Funny." Jake shoved Brayden.

  Rafael rose. "You coming?" he asked Cruz.

  "Hold on. You wait."

  Rafael groaned.

  "What?" asked Jake.

  "I'm drawing Rafael's tat."

  "You're getting a tattoo?" Brayden asked, wide-eyed.

  "Yes," Cruz said.

  "No," Rafael insisted. "I only asked him what he thought I should get. I never said I was actually getting anything."

  "Done." Cruz put the pencil down. "What do you think?" He shoved the pad of paper at Rafael.

  It was actually quite remarkable. The picture was a partially bloomed rose with an unnatural amount of thorns on the stem. A bit of blood ran down over the thorns, finally dripping off at the last one.

  "You like?"

  "Maybe."

  "That's actually awesome," Jake said. "I could see that on you, Raf."

  "Where?" Rafael asked, not on board.

  "Your arm?" Jake asked.

  "Upper or lower?" Brayden asked. "I could see it on the lower part, underneath. Then when he rolls up his silk shirts, it'll show."

  "Oh, I like that," Jake said.

  "Dude, yeah," Cruz said. He stared at Rafael. "You'll be my first customer, right?"

  Rafael looked between his brothers. They all appeared to like the idea.

  "Maybe," he said, turning to Cruz. "But you need to get your tattoo parlor first."

  "I'm workin' on it."

  "Better make it happen before I change my mind."

  Cruz's eyes widened. "So, you're on board?"

  "I said maybe."

  "Yes. I finally talked one of you into it." Cruz raised his arm.

  Rafael gave him a weak high-five.

  "You can do better than that, bro."

  Shaking his head, Rafael slapped his brother's hand hard.

  "That's better. Now who's ready to play ball?"

  They all made their way outside where Zachary was already warming up. They broke off into their typical teams—Brayden and Rafael against the others. Though, now that everyone was grown, it wasn't as fair as it once had been. Brayden and Rafael had to work extra hard, and still fell short.

  "Next time, we get Zachary," Brayden said.

  "Not a chance," Cruz said.

  Rafael sniffed the air. "Do I smell peaches?"

  "Mom's famous cobbler," Jake said.

  Zachary threw the ball into the garage, and they all fought to get inside first.

  "Boys," their mom said, shaking her head. "You should know I make enough for everyone."

  After another hour of laughing with his family, everyone made their way out. Rafael hung back, not ready to go back to his big, empty house just yet.

  "Want some help cleaning up?" he asked his mom.

  "The girls already did most of it for me, but thanks."

  The dishwasher dinged, announcing a load of clean dishes. "I'll get those. Go watch the news with Dad."

  She gave him a hug. "I won't argue with that."

  Just as Rafael was putting away the last clean dish, Zachary strolled into the kitchen. "You're still here?"

  "Thought I'd help Mom."

  "Yeah? How are you doing? You seemed distracted during dinner."

  "Did I?" Rafael asked. "Probably just thinking about everything to do before the grand opening."

  "Not still thinking about LA?" Zachary asked. He was the only person, other than Brayden, who Rafael had talked to about what had happened with Kristine and Tony.

  He shook his head. "I've moved on."

  "Good. Well, like Jasmine said, she's on board with whatever you need. She'll give away up to five free sessions for your door prizes. You know what I was thinking?"

  "What?"

  "A huge grand prize. Have a raffle, sell tickets, and one winner gets the motherlode."

  "That's not a bad idea. I could use the raffle money to get the place decorated."

  "Or set up a website."

  "I already have one."

  "No," Zachary said. "I mean where you could sell the clothes online."

  "That sounds like a lot of work."

  "And suddenly you're afraid to work hard?" asked Zachary.

  "No. I just have enough on my plate, and once you start writing full time, I'm on my own."

  "Nah. By then, you'll have enough to hire several people."

  Rafael frowned. "I don't know about that."

  "You have to sell online," Zachary said. "You don't want to limit yourself to Kittle Falls. This isn't LA where foot traffic alone will keep you afloat."

  "Not that it worked there, either," Rafael muttered.

  "But it would have if Tony hadn't messed up that one account. It was his fault, not yours. He promised them that you guys could deliver more than you could and—"

  Rafael frowned. "I really don't want to talk about that. I'm in a good mood."

  "That's why we need to focus on your website. I think there's an app or something you can install to set up a store. Or you can join an online retailer where they rent out stores in a virtual mall. Then, like with a real mall, their traffic will have the opportunity to find you because of the location."

  "When did you learn so much about this?" Rafael asked.

  "I've been studying online marketing. I thought about trying to sell paperbacks in one of them, but I wasn't sure I could actually make money. If it were profitable, I would have found other booksellers there, which I didn't. But I did see a lot of clothing retailers."

  Rafael thought about it. "But then it wouldn't be part of my website, would it?"

  "You could connect it easily enough."

  "Tell you what," Rafael said, "I'll think about it."

  "Just say the word, and I'll see what I can do. I'm no expert, but I can probably figure it out for you."

  Rafael smiled. "Why do I have a feeling you'll have everything figured out by tomorrow?"

  "Don't hold your breath. I have a ton of writing to cram in before I help you out in the afternoon."

  "Well, get to it." Rafael said his goodbyes and then headed home. It was great to spend time with his family again—it always seemed to recharge his batteries. He was ready to climb into bed and have a nice, long night's sleep.

  He pulled into the driveway and put his hand on the remote to open the garage door. Instead of pushing it, he paused. Something caught his attention on the door itself.

  Rafael narrowed his eyes, his finger hovering over the button. It was already dusk, so it made it difficult to see anything since whatever he was trying to look at wasn't where the headlights shone.

  Leaving the car running, Rafael got out and looked. At first, it looked like something black had been spread across the bottom corner of the garage door, except there were other colors, too. He took out his phone and turned on the flashlight app. Instead of seeing something black, he saw the contents of his garage.

  Someone had busted a hole into the door.

  Rafael swore under his breath and moved closer. The hole was large enough for a skinny person to get through. There was no way he could fit with as muscular as he was, but other people definitely could. Like a scrawny high school punk who egged store windows. The bridal shop owner was wiry, so it stood to reason that her brats were, too.

  Anger burned in the pit of his stomach. He had to hold himself back from running inside to see if the jerk was still there, and then pounding the living daylights out of him.

  No. His parents had already had one son booked the county jail. They didn't need the stress of another.

  He turned off the flashlight app and called the police. He reported the break-in, and the operator ordered him to stay outside until the officers arrived. She wanted him to stay on the line, but Rafael faked a bad connection and hung up. He walked around the house, watching and listening for anything suspic
ious.

  Everything appeared normal, except for the hole in his garage.

  Seven

  Rafael thanked the officers as they left, and he closed the door, making sure to set the deadbolt and the alarm. Brayden had insisted that he have the security system installed, but Rafael hadn't bothered using it, thinking he wouldn't need it in Kittle Falls. He'd thought his brother was just jumpy because his place had been broken into over the summer.

  Nothing inside had appeared disturbed, so the officers said they weren't calling it a break-in. It was just property damage. More vandalism.

  He hung up his jacket, but left his shoes on since he'd need to go into the garage and fix the hole. But first, he needed to quench his thirst. Rafael took a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge and gulped it down. Still thirsty, he drank another.

  As he went down the stairs, his pulse raced. Part of him hoped he would find the perpetrator—that he'd successfully hidden from the cops. Then Rafael could take care of him personally, all in the name of self-defense.

  How dare someone damage his property? And with this being the second vandalism, it seemed too much to be a coincidence.

  Someone was targeting him.

  Rafael turned the doorknob slowly, but it clicked anyway, letting anyone who might be in the garage know he was headed out there. The door squeaked as he opened it. He moved to turn the light on, but stopped. He wanted to see everything as the coward had seen it.

  He walked around, careful to avoid his still unopened moving boxes. A little light shone from a streetlight coming in from the hole.

  Rafael turned on his flashlight app again, shining it around.

  Something in the back corner tipped over.

  Heart pounding, he shone the light in the direction. "Who's there?" he demanded.

  Silence.

  "I said, who's there?"

  Something skidded in that direction.

  Keeping the light pointed toward the sneaky burglar, Rafael made his way over to the light switch.

  "Show yourself," he ordered.

  Still, nothing.

  Rafael flipped the switch, light blinding him. He blinked fast, trying to let his eyes adjust. He couldn't see anyone. There wasn't really anywhere to hide. He stepped closer to the corner where he'd heard the noises.

  "You may as well come out, you wimp. You're trapped." Rafael thought back to his days taking kick boxing lessons with Cruz. He couldn't remember much offhand. Hopefully, it would come back to him after the first kick.

  He took another step closer. Someone shot out from behind a stack of boxes, moving behind another.

  Rafael put his fists up, dropping his phone on the concrete. He heard the face crack.

  It took him a moment to realize it wasn't a person behind the boxes. He let out a sigh of relief and walked around. A gray tabby hissed at him.

  Rafael laughed. He'd broken his phone over a cat. He squatted down, holding a hand out. He made meowing noises, trying to lure it to him. The cat's ears relaxed, making the animal appear more curious than afraid.

  "Come here," he said in a soothing tone. "I won't hurt you. You must have snuck in through the hole and gotten scared." He rubbed his thumb and finger together. "Over here."

  Finally, it inched toward Rafael. He reached for it, expecting it to jump back. When it didn't, he patted the soft fur. The cat moved closer, rubbing against his knees.

  Rafael started to pick him up, but the cat jumped out of his arms and ran to the corner it had been in before.

  Sighing, Rafael gave up. He'd try to find the owner in the morning, and let them come get it. He had a hole to patch. But first, he needed to figure out which moving box had his tools. They weren't things he used often, but at least he had some.

  As a kid, his dad had instilled in him the value of being able to take care of and repair things around the house. Every time something needed fixing, Robert always found one of the boys—and sometimes Sophia, since he didn't want her to become a damsel in distress—and taught them how to properly use the tools.

  It only took a few boxes before Rafael found the one he needed. He lifted the red box—it was still shiny—and set it on the workbench. Whoever had lived there before had obviously loved working the garage as much as Rafael's dad. The wall had hooks for all kinds of tools.

  He couldn't help taking a minute to pause and remember some of the times his dad had brought him into his garage, showing him things, teaching him names and functions.

  Rafael would have to give his dad a call, and the two of them could have some father-son bonding together in the son's garage. His dad would really like that.

  He looked at a small stack of wood the previous owners had left in the garage. One of the slats should get the job done—at least for the night. Maybe that was something he and his dad could do together, too. That would certainly be better than replacing the entire thing.

  He found a piece of wood and hammered it in. That would at least keep any more animals from coming in.

  Rafael went to the door to his house, called out a goodnight to the cat, and the stopped. He couldn't leave it in there all night. It would probably have to relieve itself. He sighed, already exhausted, and it was hours after he'd wanted to go to bed.

  Creeping over to where the cat was, he put out his hand. "Here kitty, kitty." He called out a few times before its gray head appeared from behind a box.

  Rafael rubbed his thumb and finger together again, calling softly for the critter. Finally, the cat came back out and rubbed against Rafael's fingers, purring. That was a good sign.

  The cat continued rubbing and purring, and Rafael waited for his moment. Once the little gray eyelids closed, he wrapped his arms around the animal. The purring stopped and it squirmed. He was too tired to risk it getting away and peeing in his garage.

  Holding on tightly, he took the cat inside the house and considered the next step. He was half-tempted to put it outside—that was where it had been when it crawled in through his door, after all. But he couldn't do that in good conscience. It was pretty friendly, so obviously someone's pet.

  "How do you feel about bathrooms, kitty?"

  It scratched his arm.

  "Bathroom it is," he grumbled. The downstairs bathroom had nothing in it yet, so that would be a good place for the cat. Even though he didn't want to clean up cat urine, at least it would only be on cheap tile that he was planning on replacing, anyway.

  He set it down in the empty, dry shower and bolted out of the room before the cat figured out what was going on. Guilt tugged at him for leaving the cat without something to sleep on.

  Rafael could almost hear his late sister's voice. "Come on, Raf," Sophia seemed to say. "Give the poor kitty something soft to sleep on."

  He never could say no to her when she was alive. There was no way he could say no to her now. What did he have that a cat could sleep on? He rubbed the scratch on his arm absentmindedly.

  There was a rip in the sleeve of his shirt. Rafael sighed. It was ruined. The cat may as well have that. He unbuttoned the shirt and slid it off. He pressed his ear against the door, trying to see if he could hear where the cat was. It wasn't making any noise in the bathroom.

  He opened the door, ready to catch the cat if it tried to escape. Then he threw the shirt in and slammed the door.

  Now everyone would be happy, his sister included.

  Rafael went upstairs, ready to climb into bed as he was—shoes and all. But then he thought about cleaning up cat droppings. He gagged just thinking about it. No, he needed a makeshift litter box. He'd seen a kid's sandbox in the backyard. Maybe there was some sand in there.

  Sighing, Rafael slid on his coat—he didn't even have a shirt on anymore. He zipped the coat up, grabbed a small, empty moving box and went into the backyard. He found the sandbox without his broken phone's flashlight app.

  "Mental note," he mumbled. "Get an actual flashlight for the house." But he doubted he would actually remember without noting it in his notes app.


  He lifted the lid of the sandbox and found just enough sand for a litter box. He dumped it in the cardboard box and went inside, preparing himself to get in and out of the bathroom without the cat escaping.

  Somehow he managed, and then he went to the entryway and slid off his shoes. His stomach rumbled.

  "Forget it," he said. "My exhaustion wins, you lose."

  He unzipped his jacket, and then he heard footsteps and voices outside. Rafael looked around for a makeshift weapon, but realized the voices were feminine. Maybe they were selling cookies or something.

  The doorbell rang.

  Rafael looked out the peephole, and though he couldn't see their faces, they looked harmless enough. He opened the door, and nearly passed out when he saw Amara standing there with Janelle Anderson.

  "Rafael?" Amara asked. She looked equally surprised to see him, focused on his jacket.

  The cold breeze from outside reminded him that he had no shirt on. He zipped it up all the way. "Amara. What are you guys doing here?"

  Janelle looked like she was holding in a laugh. She recovered quickly, though. "Actually, we're looking for my cat. He didn't come home for dinner, and he never misses a meal."

  "What's he look like?" Rafael asked.

  "Gray tabby with a black nose."

  "And he doesn't like to be picked up?"

  Janelle's eyes lit up. "You've seen him? Where?" She looked around.

  "He's downstairs. Come on."

  Amara and Janelle exchanged a look.

  "You rescued her cat?" Amara asked. She looked at Rafael like he was a hero.

  He had to admit, he liked that. "Well, the cat pretty much found me. I was going to try to find the owner tomorrow." He motioned for them to follow him downstairs, and he led them to the bathroom. "Watch out, he might try to escape."

  Rafael opened the door, but found the gray tabby fast asleep on his shirt.

  "Max!" Janelle ran to the cat and picked him up. He squirmed, but purred.

  "Look at this set up," Amara said.

  Rafael raised an eyebrow. "It's just sand in a cardboard box."

  "You've got a bed and litter box for him—you could have just left him outside."

  "That's not where I found him. He was inside my garage."

  "How'd he get there?" asked Janelle, rubbing behind Max's ear.