Secret
Rooms
and
Stolen
Kisses
By:
Brooke St. James
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.
Copyright © 2021
Brooke St. James
All rights reserved.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Other titles available from Brooke St. James:
Another Shot:
(A Modern-Day Ruth and Boaz Story)
When Lightning Strikes
Something of a Storm (All in Good Time #1)
Someone Someday (All in Good Time #2)
Finally My Forever (Meant for Me #1)
Finally My Heart's Desire (Meant for Me #2)
Finally My Happy Ending (Meant for Me #3)
Shot by Cupid's Arrow
Dreams of Us
Meet Me in Myrtle Beach (Hunt Family #1)
Kiss Me in Carolina (Hunt Family #2)
California's Calling (Hunt Family #3)
Back to the Beach (Hunt Family #4)
It's About Time (Hunt Family #5)
Loved Bayou (Martin Family #1)
Dear California (Martin Family #2)
My One Regret (Martin Family #3)
Broken and Beautiful (Martin Family #4)
Back to the Bayou (Martin Family #5)
Almost Christmas
JFK to Dublin (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective #1)
Not Your Average Joe (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective #2)
So Much for Boundaries (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective #3)
Suddenly Starstruck (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective #4)
Love Stung (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective #5)
My American Angel (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective #6)
Summer of '65 (Bishop Family #1)
Jesse's Girl (Bishop Family #2)
Maybe Memphis (Bishop Family #3)
So Happy Together (Bishop Family #4)
My Little Gypsy (Bishop Family #5)
Malibu by Moonlight (Bishop Family #6)
The Harder They Fall (Bishop Family #7)
Come Friday (Bishop Family #8)
Something Lovely (Bishop Family #9)
So This is Love (Miami Stories #1)
All In (Miami Stories #2)
Something Precious (Miami Stories #3)
The Suite Life (The Family Stone #1)
Feels Like Forever (The Family Stone #2)
Treat You Better (The Family Stone #3)
The Sweetheart of Summer Street (The Family Stone #4)
Out of Nowhere (The Family Stone #5)
Delicate Balance (The Blair Brothers #1)
Cherished (The Blair Brothers #2)
The Whole Story (The Blair Brothers #3)
Dream Chaser (Blair Brothers #4)
Kiss & Tell (Novella) (Tanner Family #0)
Mischief & Mayhem (Tanner Family #1)
Reckless & Wild (Tanner Family #2)
Heart & Soul (Tanner Family #3)
Me & Mister Everything (Tanner Family #4)
Through & Through (Tanner Family #5)
Lost & Found (Tanner Family #6)
Sparks & Embers (Tanner Family #7)
Young & Wild (Tanner Family #8)
Easy Does It (Bank Street Stories #1)
The Trouble with Crushes (Bank Street Stories #2)
A King for Christmas (A Bank Street Christmas)
Diamonds Are Forever (Bank Street Stories #3)
Secret Rooms & Stolen Kisses (Bank Street Stories #4)
Chapter 1
Galveston Island, Texas
Spring, 1992
Tara Castro
(Tess & Billy's firstborn)
I walked into Carson's Diner feeling confident and happy. I knew I would get more and more nervous during the next hour as my meeting drew closer. But for now, I felt great. I had done a lot of preparation for this day. I knew what I was going to say, and I had predicted how it would go.
"Girl, you are in la-la land," Jesse said, as I sat down opposite her in the booth.
It was busy in Carson's Diner, or she would have stood and hugged me. Jesse was one of my best friends from high school. She was off at college now, but she was in town for the weekend, and I was meeting her for lunch before she headed back.
She looked at me with a comical smirk, like she was wondering why I was so distracted. "I was waving and trying to get your attention the whole time—ever since you walked in."
I smiled as I got settled in my seat. "I knew you would be at this booth, so I just headed this way without even looking at where I was going."
"No kidding," she said. "You looked like you were on another planet. You look good. Where are you going? Why are you all dressed up?"
"That meeting, remember? That's why I was spacing out. I was thinking about what I'll say."
I glanced all around, scanning the table and noticing that Jesse had already ordered my drink—a soda, presumably diet, with a lime, just how I loved it. She always remembered.
"What's the meeting all about?" Jesse asked. "It sounds so businesslike to say you're going to a meeting."
"It is businesslike," I said. "I set up the meeting through a woman who wasn't even my landlord—his secretary, I think."
"And you're trying to rent the jewelry store that's downstairs from your apartment?"
"Yes," I said. "It's not open anymore, though. Now that Mister McCain retired, it'll just be empty until someone else rents it, and I can't see any reason why that someone shouldn't be me."
"Of course, it'll be you," Jesse said confidently, even though she had been away at college and didn't know the details of my plan.
"Yep," I agreed.
"I wonder how much a place like that would cost to rent," she said.
"I know for sure how much it'll cost," I said. "Eight hundred dollars."
"Eight hundred dollars?" she asked in disbelief. "A month?"
"That's actually a really great deal," I said, but I quickly turned to our waitress who had just walked up. "Hey, Maggie," I said since she was now standing beside our table.
"Hey there, Tara, what can I getcha today?"
"A burger, please."
"Fries or mashed potatoes?" She asked because she knew I switched it up between those two.
"Mashed potatoes."
"With brown gravy," she said as a statement and not a question as she wrote it down for the cook. I smiled at her for knowing my order.
"And you, Jesse?"
"I just want some french fries, please." Jesse handed Maggie her menu. "Large. And the chili cheese ones, please. With jalapenos… and grilled mushrooms. You can put those on top. And maybe a little bacon, too, if you don't mind."
"Okay, so, chili cheese fries with peppers, mushrooms, and bacon," Maggie said, confirming. "Did you say onions, too?"
"No onions," Jesse said. "But I do want all the other stuff."
Maggie smiled and shook her head at Jesse as she walked away. Jesse look
ed at me and shrugged. She was not at all ashamed about wanting some of everything on her fries.
"Seriously, some fried shrimp would be good on those, too," Jesse said. "I'm not going to ask her now that she's walking off, but some of that popcorn fried shrimp would be so good with that. I should have probably asked for shrimp instead of bacon."
I made a face when I imagined shrimp on top of all that other stuff. But this sort of order was nothing new for me. Jesse and I had been friends since eighth grade. I was used to her eating weird combinations of things. If there was a restaurant that served one bite of everything on one plate, Jesse would order it. She was always asking for extra stuff or a side of this or that. That girl loved to eat. You would never know it looking at her, though. She had always been long and lean and thin-framed—not at all like me. I really had to watch what I ate in order to maintain a certain figure.
I had to do this for ballet, which was a passion of mine. It may seem odd for a ballerina to order a burger and mashed potatoes with gravy in the first place, but eating salads wasn't the way I dieted. I was the type who ate whatever I wanted but only allowed myself small portions of it. Today, I would eat half of the burger and a few bites of the potatoes and take the rest of it home with me to eat for dinner tonight.
Both Jesse and I were dancers, and Jesse never had to diet for a recital or worry about what she ate at all. It didn’t surprise me that she ordered all that stuff on her fries, and I had no doubt that she would eat most or all of it.
"So, is it the owner of the building you're meeting? Or the property manager?" she asked, glancing at me as she spread butter on a cracker.
"Yeah, no. He's my landlord. I think it's the landlord, at least. That was what the lady said. I don't even know the guy. I pay rent to him every month, and I've never even met him. He doesn't live here. He's Mrs. Harper's son. He inherited the building when Mrs. Harper passed away. You remember her."
"Hmm," Jesse made a noise like she was trying to seem interested.
"He lives out of state," I continued. "I mail the rent to Nashville."
"Nashville, Tennessee?" Jesse asked, sounding surprised.
"No, Nashville, Alabama," I said, teasing her. I smiled and added, "Yes, Nashville, Tennessee. Brentwood. It's near Nashville. I looked it up."
"How is he your landlord if he doesn't even live here? What if you need something fixed?"
I shrugged. "I rarely do," I said. "But there is a guy who comes by sometimes. He fixed my light switch. I had to call the secretary for that, too."
Jesse shook her head, looking confused and still chewing. "I don't even know this Mrs. Harper lady you're talking about," she said.
"The lady who used to live in my apartment years ago, remember? You remember her from when we were in high school," I said.
Mrs. Harper had passed a while back. Jesse made a face like she was trying to remember, but I could tell she had no clue.
"She was the lady who used to sit at the window and yell down at people," I said.
"Oh, my goodness. Seriously? The one who told Derek Singleton to put his shirt on or she was calling the cops?"
"Yes," I said, laughing at the memory as I took a sip of my soda. "And the one who called Kevin Martin's dad and told him he was driving too fast down Bank Street every day."
"Oh, that's when he was working here, huh?" she said, talking about the diner.
I nodded.
"That's the same lady you're talking about? I didn't know she owned the building."
"No one did," I said. "Not until she died. My mom rented one of those upstairs apartments when she first moved to Galveston. She and dad lived next to Mrs. Harper for years, they were in 203. And they had no idea she owned the building. My parents said they mailed the rent to a post office box. Mister McCain ran that jewelry store with Joan Harper living right upstairs, and he never even knew she was his landlord. He didn't know until she died and her son took over the place."
All this talk was about the beautiful, large two-story building on the corner of Bank street and 23rd, the place where I currently lived. I had been renting an apartment there for a year and eight months, but this block was already home to me long before I moved in. My parents were deeply rooted in this little section of Galveston.
Both of them were well-known in their own right, but they were famous for doing completely different things.
My father, "Easy" Billy Castro, was a world champion boxer who had a long, successful boxing career and finally retired when I was in high school. My mother was an artist who was best known for painting beach scenes in her own chunky style. She did a lot of light, bright island scenes, but my favorite paintings of hers were the darker ones—the night scenes.
I grew up around boxing and art. Some people might consider this an odd combination, but for me, it was a natural one. I turned out to be a dancer, so that was a third element to my personality. I was a ballerina who also loved martial arts and fine arts.
I hoped to bring them all together on our little section of Bank Street. There was a one-block stretch between 23rd and 24th Avenues, and I had spent most of my childhood going over there multiple times a week.
My father's boxing gym, a place called Bank Street Boxing, was situated on the south side of Bank Street next to Carson's Diner, (where I was currently eating). My Aunt and Uncle owned a hardware store that was across the street from my dad's gym, and the building on the far side of King's Hardware was where I lived and where I hoped to open a new business.
"And your plan is to rent out Mister McCain's jewelry store and turn it into a dance studio?" she asked.
I nodded. "I want you to work with me, eventually, when you're done with school. I know you'll be working at the port and everything, and I know you'd need to think about it, but if you wanted to teach a class or two a week, I'd love for you to come work with me."
"Just let me get through college first," she said in an exasperated tone. "I have finals coming up soon, so right now, I can't imagine teaching a dance class."
"Oh, I know. You don't even live here right now. I was just saying, once you come back, and if you want to…"
"Thank you. It'd be cool to teach a class. Do you think you can afford eight-hundred on that rent?"
"Not at first," I said. "But eventually, yes. Definitely. I have a whole plan. There's going to be an art gallery in my dance studio. The studio is a gallery. I have it all worked out where I can sell artwork on commission and also run a studio. It's mixing both worlds that I love the most. I'll open it sometimes after hours for showings. Of course, my mom will be the first artist featured."
"You always wanted to own a gallery," she said. "I remember you talking about that."
"It's because I can't do art myself," I said.
"You never tried hard enough," she said.
I smirked at her. "You sound like my mother. I know I didn't try very hard. I didn't love art, not doing it myself, at least. So, I don't regret not trying. I express myself through dance. I love other peoples' art, though. I know good art, and I feel like I could do well as a gallery owner."
"Well, you've convinced me," she said. "Now all that's left to do is convince your landlor… ord have mercy…" She trailed off.
Jesse had glanced outside several times since we'd been talking, but this time, something really caught her eye. I looked that way to find that it was a guy.
"Oh, my goodness. Goodness, gracious Tara. Look at that man… is he? Is he coming in here? Oh my gosh." She sat up straight, unabashedly staring out of the window, watching him. He was someone we didn't know—a tourist. This one was a little earlier than most, but the tourist season was just about to be in full swing and strangers would be everywhere. I did a double take, thinking he looked a little bit like Michael Connor, a guy we went to high school with. But no, it wasn't Michael. I glanced at Jesse, who was still busy staring. She turned and peered over her shoulder watching him the whole way down the sidewalk.
"He's coming in here," she wh
ispered excitedly, glancing at me with wide eyes.
"I thought he was Michael Connor," I said with a dismissive shrug.
"Naw, what? He's waaaay finer than Michael Connor," Jesse said. "That guy would eat Michael Connor for breakfast."
"Let's hope not," I said.
"I'm just saying… he's about ten times finer than Michael. And probably like a hundred times smarter."
"Hey, I like Michael Connor," I said, taking up for our classmate. Jesse didn't mean any harm. We both knew she would date Michael Connor in a heartbeat. She was already boy crazy to begin with, but it had gotten worse since she went off to college. It was getting progressively worse year-by-year. She assumed she would find her future husband in Lubbock, preferably during her first three years of college. That hadn't happened yet, so now she seemed to notice every man who came around.
Chapter 2
Jesse kept looking at that guy the whole time we were eating. She was all excited about his friends, too, but it was really that first one who caught her eye. Just after he arrived, two other guys met him at his table. One of them looked like JoAnn Benson's older brother, Todd. Jesse and I thought it might be him, but we weren't sure. They talked to each other the whole time, and I really didn't care to speculate who they were. I would have never noticed them, honestly, but I couldn't help it with Jesse obsessing about them and giving me a play-by-play.
I was more preoccupied with my upcoming meeting. I couldn't wait to get my name on that lease downstairs. I pictured setting up my studio in that jewelry store. I could see it so clearly in my mind's eye. I already felt at home there.
That place was at least twice as big as it looked from the outside. Mr. McCain only kept the front part of it open. There was a big storage room in the back, which I would use for studio space, plus several closets and two office-sized rooms.
I had talked to Mister McCain about it quite a bit before he retired. He was happy that I would be the one taking it over, and he showed me all around and let me take measurements before he moved out. That storage room in the back that was almost as big as the storefront, and I couldn't wait to get in there and see it now that those endless rows of shelves and boxes were out.
Secret Rooms and Stolen Kisses: A Romance Page 1