Seaside Christmas

by Stacy Claflin

  Zachary pulled out the chair from Cruz's desk, moving it closer to the bed, and sat. "You're not yourself tonight."

  "Who else would I be?"

  "Come on. You know what I mean. It's not like you to be quiet while everyone's laughing and having fun."

  Cruz put his hands behind his head. "I didn't have nothing funny to say."

  Zachary frowned. "That's what worries me." He sniffed. "Are you smoking again?"

  Cruz held out his hands. "Nope."

  "That's not what I mean."

  "Dude, I don't owe you an explanation."

  "I know, but I'm worried about you."

  Cruz groaned. Zachary wasn't going to give up. "I just need to process everything and figure out what to do."

  Zachary nodded, seeming to understand. "Want me to help you find a new place?"

  Cruz shook his head. "You're busy enough."

  "Yeah, but you're family. I'd drop anything to help you out—any of us would."

  Cruz sighed. "I know. But I gotta do this on my own."

  "Two heads are better than one."

  "Don't you have a novel to write?"

  Zachary laughed. "Yeah. If you want to talk, you know where to find me."

  "I don't, but thanks."

  "Hey, I know how it feels. And we're both creatives—if anyone two people can figure this out, it's us."

  "I'll let you know if I need help, yo."

  Zachary put the chair back and opened the door.

  "Thanks, Superman," Cruz said.

  Laughing, Zachary turned around. "Saw the sheets?"

  "You know it."

  Smiling, his brother left. Cruz pulled out his phone and scrolled through his songs until he found some indie rock music. He put it next to his pillow and closed his eyes. It was way too early to sleep, but he didn't want to be awake.

  He listened to a few songs, and just as a new one was about to start, an idea struck him.

  If the Tisdales wanted him to go over for dinner, he would—to talk them out of buying the building.

  Four

  Talia rubbed her eyes and looked around the room. It took her a minute to figure out where she was—after a couple nights in hotels, she initially thought she was in one. Then she remembered their new home and church.

  She sniffed the air. Coffee. That had to have been what woke her. Either her dad was especially tired after traveling, or he wanted to lure her out of bed.

  Talia stretched, fighting her fatigue. It would be nice to have a day or two to recover from traveling, but he wanted to get the church ready for Christmas, so there really wasn't time for playing around. She wanted to decorate the outside with lights and a manger scene, and they definitely needed to fix the inside. The pews weren't going to be easy to get up the stairs.

  She got up, and upon feeling the cold hardwood floor, jumped back into bed. Where were her slippers? She found them lying on the other side of the bed and slipped them on. Much better. Then she found her turquoise robe and slid that on, too. The big, old house was chilly.

  Not quite ready to deal with the world yet, she went over to the window and peeked through the ugly floral curtain. That would be the first thing to go. Tiny snowflakes trickled down outside, and it looked like a new inch or two had accumulated overnight.

  This was her new California beach town? Sighing, she took in the sight of their backyard—something else that would need work. A metal swing set sat in the middle, rust covering much of the frame. One swing had a broken chain and the slide had a hole large enough to see from her second-story window, despite the snow, which piled up at the bottom of the slide. Not even the snow wanted to be on the play structure.

  Talia couldn't help thinking about the play set she'd had growing up. So many memories of her mom and her playing on it. Her mom would push her on the swings, laughing the whole time. There really had never been anyone like her mom—and now she was gone. That fact always hit Talia when she least expected it. It seemed that every time she thought she was moving on, some random thing sent her back to square one emotionally.

  "What would you tell me now, Mom?" she whispered, tears misting her eyes. "Keep Dad busy? Stay strong for him? I felt so helpless last night when he was crying—I always do. Nothing can fix this."

  Talia wiped her eyes. She didn't know if he would ever get over losing her mom. How could either of them after what had happened to her? No one deserved final moments that horrific.

  The smell of bacon wafted her way.

  "I should go help him with that, huh?" Talia imagined her mom smiling and urging her on. "I promise to take care of him for you."

  She cleared her throat. She really needed to stay strong for him. Especially now that they'd moved, they only had each other.

  She tightened the strap around her robe and went down the stairs. A few creaky ones in the middle alerted her dad of her presence. He turned around, holding up a large black spatula. "Morning, sunshine."

  "Want some help with that?" she asked.

  "If you wouldn't mind flipping over the bacon. I need to check the omelets."

  "Sure thing." Talia grabbed another spatula and flipped each piece of bacon, her mouth watering.

  Before long, they sat down for breakfast.

  "Are you going to hire someone to help with the pews?" she asked.

  "I'll worry about that after we get everything cleaned. No sense in bringing them up before we're ready."

  "Mind if I decorate the outside today?" she asked. "It'll get people's attention."

  He looked thoughtful. "Maybe not yet. I really think we need to work on the inside first. If we don't get that ready, there'll be nothing for people to be excited about going to."

  "We're still planning on a Christmas performance?"

  "Assuming we can get everything ready in time."

  "Then we'd better get out there and meet our neighbors. We're going to need an army of volunteers."

  "We might have our first recruit already."

  "Oh?" She arched a brow.

  "I spoke with Cruz last night, and he's agreed to come over for dinner tonight."

  "Jake's brother?"

  He nodded.

  Talia's eye lit up. "That's the perfect opportunity to do something nice for him."

  "It wasn't entirely altruistic, I have to admit. I'm hoping he'll agree to help us with the building. He looks like the kind of guy who could get a lot done. Did you see the size of his muscles?"

  Talia choked on her eggs. She was not discussing Cruz's muscles with her father. Or the fact that she had noticed them. How could she have not? The guy was practically all muscle.

  "Are you okay?" her dad asked.

  She composed herself. "Perfect."

  "What should we have for dinner?"

  "I'll make whatever you want," she said. "What do you think he'd like?"

  "No, honey, I'll cook. I need you to fellowship with Cruz before the meal. A beautiful young woman like yourself will be exactly what I need to draw his interest."

  "Seriously, Dad? You're going to use me to get free help?" She laughed, but didn't mind the idea of spending some time with him. It was the least they could do after what the realtor had done to him.

  He laughed, too. "I know how young men think. Feed him a good meal, and he'll be more than happy to lend a muscle."

  Heat crept into Talia's cheeks. The last thing she wanted to think about was his physique. Why did her dad keep bringing it up? She stared at her half-eaten eggs.

  "He has brothers. Maybe they'll help, too."

  She nodded. "Maybe."

  "We should hurry over to the church," he said. "We've got our work cut out for us."

  "If you want to head over, I'll clean up breakfast."

  "Are you sure? We've only got the one car now, remember."

  "I can walk a few blocks. It's fine."

  He didn't look convinced.

  "I haven't been able to exercise in the last week. It'll do me some good."

  "Okay. If you
need anything, just call. I'll keep my phone on me." He gave her a hug and kissed her on the cheek.

  She returned the embrace. "See you soon, Dad."

  Talia hummed Christmas songs as she tidied the kitchen, trying to get in the spirit. Her mom had always been the one to kick-start the holiday season, and even though she and her dad weren't talking about it, having her gone made it hard to even want to celebrate.

  She emptied another moving box, putting most of the contents in the dishwasher, started it, and got in the shower. The warmest clothes she could find were some blue leggings and a long sleeved yellow shirt—about the least festive she could get. She'd have to make sure to get home at a reasonable time and go through some more boxes.

  But first, she needed to get everything ready for visiting with Tiffany. Luckily, the church building had a working refrigerator to store the food. She went into the kitchen and prepared some chicken fettuccine alfredo and steamed zucchini. Once everything had cooled, she put it in a picnic basket with a deck of cards and headed over to the church.

  While she was busy scrubbing a window, her dad came over. "Are you still going to visit Tiffany?"

  Talia checked the time. "Oh my goodness! I can't believe it's already past noon. Thanks, Dad." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then grabbed the food and put it back into the basket. "You don't mind if I take the car, do you?"

  "Not at all, and take your time over there."

  "You're the best!" She hurried to Tiffany's, almost not needing the GPS. It was only a few minutes' drive.

  Tiffany already had the front door open before Talia was out of the car.

  "I'm so glad you came," Tiffany said as Talia made her way up the stairs. "Can I help you with that?"

  "Nope. I'm here to serve. Just show me where the kitchen is, and I'll get everything ready."

  Tiffany led the way. "Can I at least set the table?"

  "You can tell me where everything's located." Talia gestured for her to sit.

  "How's the church coming along?" Tiffany asked after taking a seat.

  "It's going to be a long process." Talia turned on the oven and put the food in to warm. "Have you ever played Big Bertha?"

  "What—or who—is that?" Tiffany laughed.

  Talia picked up the deck of cards and shuffled. "It's a game I've played with my family for my entire life. I've never tried it with only two people, but we can give it a try if you're up to learning a new game."

  "It definitely beats streaming movies all day. That's about all Jake will let me do. The doctor said no exercise, and he's taking it literally."

  "Aw, he just cares." Talia dealt the cards. "He wants to take care of you."

  "That's how the Hunter guys are. They're all that way."

  "All of them?" If that were true, maybe Cruz really would be willing to help them with the church building.

  Tiffany nodded. "They're all different, but were raised to be gentlemen. For better or worse."

  Talia smiled. She'd see at dinner that night.

  Five

  Cruz parked his motorcycle next to the sidewalk and cut the engine. He climbed off, removed his helmet, and set it on the seat. Then he dusted off some snowflakes and sniffed his jacket. The ride had mostly gotten rid of the smoky smell. He'd gone through more of his pack than he'd wanted to that day, but he was cutting himself slack since he was so stressed out.

  Every break he'd had at the shop, he'd gone out back. Jake knew exactly what he was doing—it was written all over his face—but his brother hadn't said a word.

  Cruz double-checked the house number and walked up the sidewalk and to their walkway. A street lamp turned on as he walked underneath. He'd gone over what he was going to say countless times. There weren't any other buildings in town he could use for his tat shop—the city council had made it clear the only place he would be allowed to do business was the outskirts of town—so he needed to be convincing.

  His sense of humor and charm had always gotten him out of trouble growing up, so he needed to tap into that. So many times, all he'd had to do was tell a joke and laugh, and his teachers would just melt and let him get away with whatever trouble he'd created. It didn't work quite as well now that he had facial hair and tattoos, but that wouldn't stop him from trying.

  Cruz walked up the steps to the porch and knocked on the door, avoiding a wreath. It smelled of pine, like it had been freshly made.

  Noise sounded from inside, and then the door opened. The blonde chick from the day before—what was her name again?—stood before him, wearing another dress. It was bright yellow with a pattern of tropical flowers. Her hair was pulled back and a floral scent engulfed him—her perfume?

  She smiled and stepped back. "Come on in, Cruz."

  And she remembered his name. Crap. He forced a smile and nodded a thanks, stepping inside. The house had bare furnishings and almost no decorations, spare a few holiday ones.

  Blondie closed the door and then Cruz saw a pile of moving boxes. That's right. They were new to town. "Nice place."

  "We're still trying to figure out where everything is. You know how moving is."

  "Not really."

  She raised an eyebrow.

  "But I imagine it's a pain in the—uh, neck. I grew up in one house, and the only time I moved was when I went to college, and all I packed fit on my motorcycle."

  Her gorgeous blue-green eyes widened. "Really?"

  "Don't look so shocked. I went to UCLA. I graduated, even."

  "That's not what surprised me. It was because you got everything on a motorcycle."

  He shrugged.

  "Isn't UCLA hard to get into? Less than ten percent get in, don't they?"

  Cruz looked away. "I didn't really pay attention. Just wanted to hang out in LA for a while."

  "What brought you back here?"

  "Sure wasn't the town. My dad had some health problems and I wasn't really gettin' along with the guy I was working for, so I just packed up my bike and came back."

  "Is your dad okay?" Talia's eyes widened. "Do you guys need anything?"

  "No, he's okay now. Takin' care of himself and everything. My mom and all five of us brothers help out, too."

  "Oh, good. Well, if you do need something, you have our number."

  Cruz nodded and slid off his jacket. Her eyes widened as her gaze went over his heavily tattooed arms. He tried to tell if she was judging him or checking them out. It was hard to tell because her expression didn't reveal anything. He'd been judged before by religious people, making wild assumptions based on his body art.

  Cruz flexed both arms and then held out his jacket. "Someplace I can hang this?"

  She cleared her throat. "Yeah. I'll put it in the coat closet." She held out a hand.

  He hesitated. Then he shoved it at her, not caring about the lingering cigarette smell. It wasn't like he needed to impress her. He just had to convince them to find a new church building. There was one closer to the main part of town—where he wasn't allowed to put a tattoo parlor—that would be perfect for them. He'd checked it out earlier, and had a long mental list to share with them. It would be a lot less work, and he was certain they'd appreciate that.

  She hung up the coat and smiled. "I hope you're hungry. My dad made a ton of food."

  "Oh, he cooks?"

  "He was going to become a chef before he met the Lord."

  Cruz flinched. He wasn't used to religious talk, much less coming from someone who really made that yellow dress work like she did.

  Stop.

  The last thing he needed to think about was how she looked.

  Beautiful.

  Stunning.

  Elegant.

  Stop!

  "Are you okay?" She arched a brow.

  He blinked a few times and focused on her eyebrows. "Yeah. Long day."

  "Same here. Well, come on." She led him toward the delicious smells of pasta and garlic. It reminded him of his mom's spaghetti nights.

  Cruz followed her, trying not
to watch to her tanned legs. The way she walked, it was like she wanted him to pay attention. He couldn't find her so attractive. Not when he needed to talk them out of the church.

  He stood taller as they walked into the kitchen. His mouth watered as the delicious smells grew stronger.

  Allen turned around from the stove and smiled. "Welcome to our home, Cruz. Sorry I couldn't meet you at the door, but I need to make sure the asparagus doesn't burn. It's not quite sautéing right. I think something's wrong with this burner."

  "Want me to take a look?" Cruz asked.

  "No, I can keep it from scorching."

  "I meant the burner. When it cools. I fixed my parents' stove over the summer."

  "Really?" he asked, appearing impressed. "Sure, if you want to. For now, have a seat. It's almost ready. Talia, can you check the lasagna?"

  Cruz sat. Her name was Talia. He repeated the name in his mind. It was weird, but strangely pretty… just like her.

  Beautiful.

  He sighed. He would never convince them to get the other church if he kept thinking like this.

  Talia opened the oven as her dad moved out of the way. She bent over, her dress rising up. He looked away.

  Cruz got up and played with a piece of wooden molding on the floor that stuck out. He tried to fix it—with his back to Talia. It took a few minutes, just long enough to get his mind off her legs. He rose and turned around. Allen was setting the steaming asparagus on the table.

  "Hey, thanks for fixing that," he said. "That's on my long to-do list."

  "No problem. Need help with anything else?"

  Allen shook his head. "You're our guest, and not only that, but our first one in this house. Sit and relax."

  Talia brought over the lasagna, and before long, they all sat at the table with a full spread in front of them. Cruz waited for someone to take the first helping of something. Were they waiting for him?

  Allen took Talia's hand and then extended his hand toward Cruz. "Let us give thanks."

  They were going to say grace? It wasn't even Christmas dinner. Cruz forced a smile and reached for Allen's hand and then Talia's. Hers was so soft and smooth.

  Allen smiled at him. "Would you like to pray, Cruz?"

  The blood drained from his face. "I… uh…"