CHAPTER 1
Maverick's Bar and Grill was crowded when Gabe Herrera arrived just after ten o'clock on Friday night. After the day he'd had, he needed a drink, and Maverick's was his go-to bar. Located on a bluff overlooking the ocean in Oceanside, California, it was only a few blocks from his apartment at Ocean Shores, and he knew just about everyone who worked at Maverick's, including his roommate, Max Donovan, and the owners of the bar, Brad and Tyler Morrison.
He was almost to the door when he heard his name called. He turned to see his nineteen-year-old sister, Christina, hurrying toward him, her long black hair flying out behind her. His first thought was that her dress was too short and her heels too high, but she wasn't a little girl anymore, and he needed to keep those thoughts to himself. He just felt protective. At thirty-one, he was twelve years older than Christina, and after their father had died eight years ago, he'd had to step into his dad's shoes and help watch over his three younger siblings, all of whom seemed to be in some sort of crisis at the moment.
"What are you doing here, Christina? Is everything all right?"
"Mama wants to kick me out of the house," she replied in dramatic fashion.
He let out a quick breath, happy her trip to see him was just about another fight between Christina and his mother. "There's no way that's true. She wouldn't kick you out."
She gave him a hurt and angry look. "I wouldn't lie."
"Why would she say that?" he asked. "What did you do?"
"I didn't come home last night. It was late, and I stayed at Eric's apartment. I meant to send her a text, but I forgot."
"So, she gave you the speech about if you want to live with her, you have to follow her rules."
"I'm nineteen, Gabe. I'm an adult. If I was away at the university where I wanted to be, she wouldn't even know what I'm doing, but I stayed home and went to community college to save money, and now I'm being punished."
"You're not being punished, you're being loved."
"I'm being smothered."
"She worries about you, Christina. And you're going away to school in September. It's June. You have three months to get through. Just go home by midnight and you'll be fine. Or don't forget to text Mom if you'll be late, so she won't worry."
"It won't be fine. I want to live my own life the way you do, the way everyone else in the family does. I hate being the youngest."
Her whining made him smile. She might be nineteen, but sometimes, she still sounded like she was nine.
"Our house is also like a childcare center since Laura moved in," Christina added. "And guess who she's always looking for when she needs a babysitter?"
"I had to babysit you when I was a teenager," he reminded her.
"Hardly ever," she retorted. "I need you to help me, Gabe."
"I can't convince Mama to bend any rules for you." He knew that for a fact because Christina was not the first one of his siblings to ask him to do that.
"Then maybe you could lend me some money," she suggested, giving him a pleading look. "I can move in with my friends for the summer. Kim got a place near the beach. There are two bedrooms, and there will be four of us in the apartment. It will be pretty cheap."
He frowned at her request. "I don't know, Christina. I have a lot going on."
"But your business is so successful, and it's really not that much money. I just need an extra three hundred dollars a month for three months. That's a total of nine hundred dollars. I can cover the rest with my job. I'll pay you back, I promise."
"It's bad timing, Christina. Lucas asked me for cash today, too. His car broke down, and he can't get to work without it. Can't you just hang in at home for a few more months?"
"I'm going crazy, Gabe. It's not just Laura and her kids or Abuela's health issues; it's also Mom. It's the anniversary of Dad's death this week, and she's so sad; she's crying all the time. When she's not crying, she's angry. I cannot be in that house anymore. I've been the one living with her the past eight years while the rest of you went off to do your own thing. I need a break. It's not like I won't visit her and Abuela; I just need my own space."
There was truth in her statement, and he felt bad he hadn't realized the burden she'd carried. "All right. I'll help you with the apartment."
She immediately threw her arms around his neck and gave him a hug. "Thank you, thank you," she said. "You're saving my life."
"I'll give you three hundred a month, but you have to come up with the rest yourself."
"I will. I'll tell Kim I'm in."
"And about Eric…"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't go all big brother on me."
"So, I can be a big brother when you need money, but no other time?" he asked dryly.
"Fine. Say whatever you have to say."
"Don't let him call the shots. You're young. Live your life, not his."
"Well, of course. What else would I do? I'm not looking for anything serious," Christina said. "We're young. We're having fun. I'll talk to you soon."
As Christina jogged across the parking lot, he sighed. He was a sucker for his family, but he couldn't help it. He was the oldest, and if they needed help, he was there.
Turning toward the door, he headed into Maverick's and made his way through the crowd to the bar where Max was mixing drinks. Max had black hair and striking blue eyes, and the ladies were often lined up at his end of the bar. But Max was more than a bartender; he was an aspiring screenwriter, and two weeks ago, he'd gotten an option picked up on one of his screenplays and was heavy into rewrites. Even now, he could see the distraction in Max's eyes. He might be serving up cocktails, but his mind was in the apocalyptic thriller he couldn't wait to bring to the screen and finally get his big break.
He'd met Max three years ago when Max's roommate had moved out, and he needed someone to split the rent in his two-bedroom, two-bath apartment at Ocean Shores. While he hadn't been looking for a roommate, the extra space and the lower rent was enough to convince him to grab the deal and not look back.
He was pouring all of his money into his food truck, and he didn't much care where he slept. Living with Max had turned out to be good for a lot more reasons than saving money. He'd become part of the Ocean Shores community, where he'd made a ton of friends and found a second family. Not that he needed a second family. He had his hands full with his first one. But his second family wasn't continually coming to him looking for a handout, and that he appreciated.
As a stool emptied at the bar, he slid into the seat. A moment later, Max put a whiskey in front of him.
"How was your night?" Max asked.
"Busy and long," he said, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Business has picked up since I changed locations, but the truck is old and it's starting to break down. I don't know how long I can keep it operating. Nor do I know how long I want to. Working in that small space is starting to get to me."
Max gave him an understanding look. "You'll be in your own restaurant one day. You're too stubborn not to get what you want."
"I hope you're right."
"I am. By the way, Michael dropped by. Your brother said he just got accepted into law school, and he needs to talk to you about his tuition. I told him where you were parking your truck these days. Did he find you?"
"No, he didn't. Law school, huh?" He wanted to feel happy for his younger brother, Michael, but all he could think about was how he was going to help Michael with tuition, pay for Lucas to get a new car, and subsidize Christina's rent. "I don't know why my family thinks I'm made of money."
"Maybe because you don't share your problems with your family," Max said pointedly.
That was true. But there was no point in sharing. While his siblings might come to him for help, he could only rely on himself. "How are you doing, Max? How are the rewrites going?"
"Not well. I ran into a plot problem today that I can't quite figure out. I'm going to work on it tonight when I get out of here."
"I'll stay out of your way."
"I wouldn't notice if you were there. I barely know what's going on here. My mind just wants to get back into my story."
"I thought you were going to take some time off."
"He is," Brad Morrison said as he stepped up to the bar next to Max. Brad was a friendly, outgoing guy in his early thirties with sandy blond hair and brown eyes. He owned Maverick's with his brother Tyler. "Starting now," Brad added. "Dave and I can cover for you the rest of the night, and for the next week, too, if you want to take some shifts off and work on your screenplay."
"That would be great," Max said. "I just need a few days."
"You've got 'em. Go."
"I'm not going to argue with you," Max said. "See you at home, Gabe."
"Good luck with your plot twist," he said. He smiled at Brad as Max left. "You're a generous boss."
"Max is more of a friend than an employee, and I want this movie to get made."
"So do I. Max has been working hard on his craft for a long time."
"Speaking of working hard for a long time, how's the new location going?"
"Surprisingly great. My regulars have found me, and there's more parking by the park. There's also more foot traffic in the area, so it was a good move."
"But it's not the restaurant you wanted. How is that place doing?"
"Looks pretty dead to me," he said.
"They should have hired you."
"Well, they didn't. Anyway, we don't need to talk about that."
"I hear you. You should drink, relax, have some fun. There are a lot of pretty women here tonight."
He grinned back at him. "You're still allowed to notice the pretty women?" Brad had gotten married in March to Serena, a pretty brunette who also worked at Maverick's, and they both lived at Ocean Shores.
"He can look but not touch," Serena said as she joined her husband at the bar. "How are you, Gabe? I haven't seen you around the building lately."
"I've been working a lot."
"Well, I hope we can catch up some time." Serena turned to her husband. "Can I grab you for a second?"
"Always," Brad said, giving her a wicked look.
Serena laughed and shook her head. "Not for fun. The guy who booked the back patio wants to talk to you."
"Again? He has complained three times already."
"I don't think he's having the best night. The woman he's throwing the party for seems to be interested in someone else."
"Well, that makes me feel sorry for him. See you later, Gabe. Have some fun tonight. You look like you could use it."
As Brad left, Serena poured him another whiskey. He'd no sooner gotten his drink when a group of women crowded in behind him.
"Would you mind sliding down?" one of the women asked. "We're having a bachelorette party, and we want to sit together. There's a seat down there."
"No problem." He was happy to get away from the heavy cloud of perfume that now surrounded him. Plus, the empty seat at the other end of the bar was next to a stunningly pretty blonde, whose green-eyed gaze sent a jolt through his body when he sat down.
"Hello," he said, unable to stop staring at her. She looked a little familiar, but there was no way he'd met her before. He wouldn't have forgotten her eyes, which held an expression mixed with too many emotions for him to decipher. Then she turned her gaze back to the shot in front of her, picked up the glass, and downed it.
"Tequila?" he asked as she set the glass on the table with a shiver.
She nodded. "Yes. My friend bought it for me."
"Your friend?" He was really hoping it wasn't a male friend.
She tipped her head toward a dark-haired woman who was making out with a guy at a nearby table. He didn't recognize either one of them. "She looks like she's found another friend."
"She did. I should probably just go."
"Or," he said, not wanting the conversation to end. "I could buy you another drink."
She hesitated, giving him a pointed look. "I'm not interested in hooking up."
"I just offered to buy you a drink."
"Because you want to hook up."
"I just want to talk to you. Another tequila shot or do you want to switch it up?"
She hesitated. "All right. I'll take a margarita, and then I'll be done."
He motioned to the bartender working this end of the bar and ordered her a margarita. Then he said, "What's your name?"
She shook her head. "Let's not do that. Let's not exchange names or talk about our jobs or where we went to school. It's so boring."
He couldn't really argue with that. He'd gotten bored with first-date conversation a long time ago. "Okay. What do you do for fun when you're not shooting tequila?"
"I don't think I remember," she said slowly. "It's been a while since I thought about fun."
"Think about it now."
"I like to play the piano," she said after a moment.
Her answer surprised him. He'd thought she'd say working out or yoga. "Are you good?"
"I'm average."
"How often do you play?"
"Lately, almost never. I haven't played since I moved here a few months ago."
"Where did you come from? Or is that on the list of taboo questions?"
"San Francisco."
"A lot colder there."
"That's true." She paused as they got their drinks. "I like the warm evenings around here."
"Let's make a toast," he said, lifting his glass.
"To what?"
"How about—escape? For the next hour, we have no worries, no problems, no family."
She picked up her margarita glass. "I could definitely drink to no family."
"Me, too," he agreed as they clinked glasses. He felt a little guilty as he shared in the toast. He did love his family. They were just a lot.
"I like this song," she said suddenly as she swayed in her seat to the beat of a Jason Mraz song. "Music has always been an escape for me."
"Not just tequila then."
"I almost never drink this much," she said, slurring her words a little. "But I feel good. What about you?"
"Getting better by the minute. I also like music. And I enjoy surfing, too. Or is that too much information about me?"
She gave him a guilty smile. "I was rude when I said I didn't want to know anything about you, wasn't I?"
He shrugged. "I get it. You probably get hit on all the time."
"It's not that. When I ask someone a question, I know they're going to ask me a question, and I'm just tired of myself. It's been a long month, and I want to get away from everything for a night. Is that okay? If not, I'm sure one of the bachelorettes would love to talk to you."
"I'm good here," he said, finding himself becoming more and more intrigued by her. "We don't have to get personal. How about three questions, three answers, and if we like what we hear, we keep talking?"
"All right," she said warily. "But you already asked a question, so you only have two more."
"You're a big rule follower, aren't you?"
"Is that your question?" she asked with a tipsy smile.
"No," he said quickly. "I can't waste my question on that." He thought for a moment, trying to think of something that wouldn't be boring. "What's your most embarrassing moment?"
"What if I don't have an embarrassing moment?"
"Then I'll know you're a liar. And that was one question for you."
"You got me," she said. "Okay, let's see. I've had quite a few embarrassing moments, actually. I was an awkward kid." She gave him a self-deprecating smile. "I had railroad tracks of braces on my teeth until I was a freshman in high school, and in the ninth grade, I had a huge crush on Mick Vimiglio. We were at the Halloween fair together, and it was going well. I was sure he was going to kiss me at some point. But before that could happen, he bought us caramel apples." She paused, catching his eye. "That's right, caramel apples."
"Bad idea."
She nodded. "I didn't want to say no, so I bit into the apple. My braces got stuck on the caramel, and there was apple juice and caramel dripping from my mouth. I couldn't get the apple off my braces. It was just horrible."
He laughed at the expression on her face, her words creating a very unfortunate picture. "I'm sorry for laughing, but that sounds awful. Did Mick give you a second chance?"
"God, no. Everyone was laughing at me. Mick was never going to date a girl who was that embarrassing."
"I think it was his loss. Look at your teeth now. They're perfect."
"They better be. I went through a lot of pain to get them. Your turn, same question."
"Mine involves a kiss scenario, too. I was in the tenth grade, at a homecoming dance. I'd been seeing this girl Emma for a few weeks, but she was ignoring me at the dance. I got annoyed and went out to the parking lot to drink beer with one of my friends whose older brother had hooked us up."
"That sounds like a bad idea, too."
"It got worse. After chugging two beers, we went back to the dance. I marched up to Emma, pulled her around and planted a kiss on her lips. Only, it wasn't Emma. It was a girl who looked like her. She punched me in the eye. My friends thought it was hilarious. Emma thought I was an idiot."
"You were an idiot," she agreed.
"In my defense—"
"You have a defense?" she challenged.
He grinned. "You're right. I have no defense. I was hanging around with stupid friends with stupid ideas, but I was the one who acted on them."
"Did you and Emma stay together?"
"Nope. Is that your third question?"
She frowned. "It wasn't, actually. It was a follow-up question. That's allowed."
"So, we do have rules for this conversation. And that wasn't a question, either," he said hastily. "It was an observation."
"I like rules because I don't like to mess up. Unfortunately, that still seems to happen even when I think I'm doing everything right."
"We all screw up. It's called being human."
"That's not what they call it in my family," she said darkly as she sipped her margarita.
"What do they call it?" he asked curiously.
"Disappointing, unacceptable, not what we do." She took another drink.
"I'm beginning to see why you wanted to toast to no family."
"Yes, so let's stop talking about them."
"Then it's your turn for a question."
"Is it hot in here?" she said, fanning her face.
"It's warm. I'm assuming that wasn't your real question."
"It wasn't." She set down her drink. "What's your favorite food, the one thing you'd want to eat before you die?"
"That's a little dark." He realized there was an undertone of darkness behind a lot of things she said. She was clearly having some sort of drama in her life, which meant he should probably get up and go, because she had trouble written all over her. But she was so pretty. He couldn't stop looking at her, and he couldn't stop talking to her. At least, not yet.
"Are you going to answer my question?" she asked.
"I'm thinking. Last meal, huh? That's a tough one. I like to eat. I have a lot of favorite foods."
"This has to be a special meal. Will it be a decadent dessert, a spicy stew, a melt-in-your mouth steak, or would it be fries and a cheeseburger?"
"You're making me hungry."
"And you're stalling."
"I would hate to have to choose, but if I had to pick one meal, I'd pick hallacas."
She gave him a confused look. "What are hallacas?"
"You've never heard of one of the most popular dishes in Venezuela?"
"I have not."
"My abuela, my grandmother, makes them every Christmas. A hallaca is like a tamale but better. The filling is made from chicken, pork, and beef, along with corn masa, then it's wrapped in banana leaves and the leaves are tied with twine, preferably red, if it's Christmas. The hallacas look like presents, and they taste like heaven." He paused. "My abuela was sick last Christmas. It was the first year she didn't make them. It didn't feel like Christmas without her bustling around the kitchen making her favorite dish."
She stared back at him. "Is she better now?"
"Yes. She swears she'll be back on her feet and making hallacas come December."
"Was your grandmother born in Venezuela?"
"In Caracas. My grandparents came to the US when my father and his siblings were very young."
"Have you ever been there?"
"I went when I was eighteen. It was a wonderful trip. I enjoyed seeing where my grandparents came from. They grew up in poverty, but their dreams took them to the US. Their journey has always inspired me to try harder. My abuelo, my grandfather, died about ten years ago. I still miss him."
"It sounds like you were close to your grandparents."
"I'm close to everyone in my family." He cleared his throat. "But we aren't talking about family tonight. What about you? What's your choice for a last meal?"
She didn't hesitate for a second. "The perfect roast chicken with mashed potatoes and roasted baby carrots."
"Really? That sounds dull for a last meal. No spice."
She frowned. "It's not dull. It's simple perfection. Why doesn't anyone understand simple can be great?"
He had a feeling she was talking about more than her choice of a last meal. He sipped his whiskey. "Then roast chicken it is. Hopefully, neither of us is dying soon."
The music grew suddenly louder as the bachelorette party started an impromptu dance party in the middle of the bar.
"That looks fun," she said with a wistful look in her eyes. "They're so carefree, just living in the moment."
"Well, so are we." He got up and held out his hand. "Let's join them."
"This isn't a dancing kind of bar."
"It is now."
"I'm not a good dancer," she protested.
"You don't have to be good. You just have to move. Come on, beautiful stranger. Dance with me."
Her gaze flickered with hesitancy, but then she said, "Okay," and she slid her hand into his.
The heat between them almost knocked him off his feet.
She must have felt the same jolt because she tried to jerk her hand away, but he held on tight and pulled her into the laughing, dancing group of bachelorettes. Others in the bar joined in, too, and suddenly it was a full-on dance party.
At first, she was a little stiff and restrained, but as the music played on, she let go. It was an amazing thing to watch, like a tight flower bud opening up to the sunshine. Her blonde hair swung around her beautiful face, and she moved her body in a way that made him want to get as close as he could.
One song led to two, then three, and with each beat of the music, she seemed to relax even more, freeing herself from whatever had made her feel so wary, so unhappy. All the shadows were gone as she danced and smiled and laughed until the impromptu dance party finally slowed down.
Hot and sweaty, they moved outside with the crowd to get some air. He wasn't ready to let her go, so he pulled her toward the bluff overlooking the sea on the pretense of getting more of the breeze. But once there, he took her into his arms, craving her lips, her touch, her body with every breath he took.
And she was right there with him, kissing him back with the same enthusiastic fervor.
Everything around them faded into nothing. He couldn't hear the cars in the lot or the people chattering as they waited for their rides. All he could hear was the roaring sound of the blood in his veins as he kissed the beautiful stranger, whose name he still didn't know. But names were the last thing he wanted to share now.
He just wanted her.
And then his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He ignored it the first two times, but finally, he pulled away. "I'm sorry. Someone is trying to call me." He saw Michael's name flashing on the screen. "It's my brother."
"You should talk to him," she said breathlessly. "I should go anyway."
"Wait. Just wait a second. I'll tell him I'll call him back."
"I don't think so." She pulled away from him, taking two steps back.
He felt a cold chill. "Are you sure I can't take you home?"
She stared back at him for a long minute. "You already had your three questions."
"But if we were having fun, there could be more than three, remember?"
"I can't." She shook her head. "I'm sorry."
His phone started buzzing again. "Damn."
"Answer your phone. I'm going to call for a ride."
She walked away, pulling out her phone as she did so. "Wait," he said.
She flung him a smile. "I had fun. Goodnight."
"I don't want to say goodnight."
"You just did," she said as she moved toward the line of people waiting for rides.
The incessant buzzing of his phone finally drew his attention away from her. He answered the call.
"What the hell do you want, Michael?"
"I've been trying to get a hold of you, Gabe. I got into law school. Can you believe it?"
He heard the amazement and happiness in his brother's voice and felt bad for answering the phone so abruptly. "Congratulations. I want to talk about this, but can I call you back?"
"Okay, but I really need to talk to you about the tuition. I have some idea on how I can cover everything, but I might need help."
"We'll talk about it," he promised. "I'll call you."
He ended his call and ran toward the line waiting for ride shares. He was almost there when he saw her get into a car and slam the door. The car pulled away a moment later. His beautiful stranger was gone, and he didn't even know her name.
