Zachary led her into a little diner that looked like it belonged in a television show from the fifties or sixties. It even had red and white checked tablecloths and a jukebox playing music from that era.
"This place is adorable," she said.
"I've always liked it." He led her to a table in a corner and held out a chair for her.
He was a gentleman, too? She sat, and he scooted her in before sitting next to her.
A waitress, looking like she was from the same time period as the diner, came over to them. "So good to see you again, Zachary. How can I help you, hon?" She pulled a pencil from behind her ear and a pad of paper from her apron.
"You, too. What's the daily special, Sheila?" Zachary asked.
"Our six-cheese ziti. But for you, anything. Are you back in town for good, or just visiting?" asked Sheila.
"I'm here for a while."
"Your parents must be thrilled. You boys are returning one by one. Who's this?" Sheila turned to Jasmine.
"This is Jasmine, and she's new to this side of town."
"You won't want to go back to the touristy side after you've been here." She winked at Jasmine. "Does the ziti sound good to you?"
"Sure." Jasmine shrugged.
"Two zitis, Sheila," Zachary said. "And can I get a root beer?"
Sheila scribbled on her pad of paper. "Sure, dear. And you?" She looked at Jasmine.
"Can I get a coffee? Black."
"Coming right up." She turned around and walked away.
"Sounds like you come in pretty often," Jasmine said.
"I used to come in a lot after school for snacks. This place hasn't changed a bit. My dad says it's the same since he was a boy, too."
"It's incredible that your family has been here that long."
Zachary shared stories about growing up while they waited for the food. When it arrived, Jasmine went for the coffee first. Even though she was sitting with the most handsome guy in town, she had a hard time fighting her heavy eyelids.
Nine
Zachary ate his pasta, hardly able to focus on anything other than Jasmine. She was so beautiful, though obviously tired. He knew he should feel bad about that, but couldn't stop smiling over her staying up late to read his book
She kept asking questions about what it had been like growing up in Kittle Falls, and he answered each question, not feeling like it was all that exciting, but she seemed genuinely interested. He couldn't imagine what was so interesting about growing up in a small town where everyone knew everyone—even now. Sheila had worked at the diner as long as Zachary could remember.
"What was it like where you grew up?" he asked, tired of talking about Kittle Falls.
"Nothing like this." Jasmine took another sip of her coffee. It was already her second cup since arriving.
"Sorry you're so tired," Zachary said.
"Funny. You don't sound sorry." She grinned, her tired eyes shining.
"Well, I can't help being excited that you're tired because of my story."
"Hopefully, I can finish it tonight before it gets too late. I'm not sure I can do this again." She yawned. "But I do need to know what happens to Damion."
"It's a good thing we're having lunch rather than dinner." Zachary finished off his pasta. "Does this replace the beach walk we had planned?"
She appeared to think about it. "It would give me time to finish the book. Is that okay?"
Zachary felt his face warm. As much as he wanted to spend more time with her, excitement rushed through him—she wanted to finish his novel! He fought to keep his voice steady. "Of course."
"Though, we do need to have dinner soon," she said. "My roommate wants to meet you."
"You've told her about me?" Zachary arched a brow, surprised. She liked him enough to tell her roommate about him?
Jasmine nodded, and then took another sip of her coffee.
"How about after you finish my book?" he asked. "Then we don't have to worry about you staying up too late."
"I'd like that. But if that doesn't happen by tomorrow, do you want to do lunch again? It seems like a good time for the both of us."
"My schedule is flexible," Zachary said, "so whatever works for you." Even if his schedule was packed, he'd rearrange it just to spend time with her.
"Okay, lunch tomorrow. Maybe dinner, too?" She looked hopeful.
"Sounds good to me." He could help grinning.
Sheila took their plates and then brought them desserts. "These are on the house. I'm so glad you're back in town, Zachary."
"Thanks so much, Sheila. You didn't have to."
"No, but I wanted to." She winked and then headed to another table.
Jasmine gestured to the sweets. "Do you want the banana split or the sundae?"
"Whichever you don't want."
She laughed. "I want both. They look delicious."
The two desserts were piled ridiculously high with ice cream and different colored syrups.
"We could always share them," he said. Normally, he wasn't one to share food, more worried about germs, but with Jasmine, he didn't care.
She beamed. "I like the way you think, Mr. Creativity."
They dug into the ice cream, and before Zachary knew it, both were gone and Sheila brought out the check. He pulled out his wallet, knowing he would have to find a way to earn money so he could keep taking Jasmine out. He'd arrived in town nearly broke, and now most of those measly funds were depleted.
"I've got this one," Jasmine said.
"But I should—"
"Pay for everything?" she asked. "Nonsense." She pulled a card out of her purse, put it on top of the receipt, and set at the edge of the table.
"Well, thanks," he said. "I'll get it next time."
"Deal."
They discussed possible restaurants for their next date until Sheila returned and the bill had been paid. Then he took her hand, noticing his pulse had picked up speed at the touch of her soft, warm skin. When they walked outside, a light breeze blew, and the scent of her perfume tickled his nose. He loved it—it was sweet, just like her.
He moved closer to her so he could smell it some more. Her soft, thick hair brushed against him and he wanted to reach over and run his hands over it.
All too soon, they were back at the club.
Jasmine turned and looked him in the eyes. "I have to get back and get ready for my next class."
"Me, too. Well, I have to meet my brother soon to work out, so I can't stay, either."
Jasmine squeezed his hand, and Zachary's heart raced. They said quick goodbyes, walking slowly away from each other. Zachary watched her until she disappeared through the door, wishing they could spend the rest of the afternoon together. He'd have to find out what she was doing over the weekend. They could go to the beach and spend the day together, not having to let each other go until they'd had hours and hours together.
But that would take money, even if she insisted on paying for some of it. He'd have to talk to his parents or Jake about working at the family shop part time. Or if they didn't need help, then he would have to figure something else out. He did have credit cards, but he didn't want to put himself into debt.
Maybe Brayden needed some help with his clinic. His urgent care facility was almost ready to open, but still needed some work. Maybe there was something he could do to help. That reminded him, he needed to get inside and meet his brother.
When he got there, Brayden was already stretching.
"You look happy," Brayden said, pulling his arm above his head and grabbing his elbow.
Zachary put his stuff in an empty locker. "Maybe I am."
"Oh, good." His oldest brother looked genuinely pleased. "Is it your book?"
"I met a girl," Zachary said. "A nice one this time." He reached his arm over his head and pulled on it with the other hand.
"It sounds like anyone would be better than the last one." Brayden stretched his leg.
Zachary rolled his shoulders. "No, it wouldn't take much to improv
e upon her, but Jasmine is really wonderful."
"Oh?" Brayden switched legs. "Where'd you guys meet?"
"Here, actually."
Brayden looked around the weight room.
"Not here, here." Zachary laughed. "She's a dance instructor in the club."
"Maybe she can help you out."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Zachary asked.
Brayden laughed. "You've never been one with great moves."
"You don't like my dancing?"
Brayden slapped him on the back. "Let's just say your talents lie elsewhere."
Zachary shook his head. "I can always count on my brothers."
"Who cares about dancing when you're going to be a famous author?" Brayden picked up some dumbbells and started reps.
"I don't know about that, but Jasmine does like my novel."
"See?" Brayden asked. "You'll be famous, you just have to give it time. Remember, Walt Disney was turned down for a job at a newspaper because they said he lacked creativity. Some people don't know talent even if it bites them in the butt. So, the girl, she has good taste. Stick with her."
Zachary grabbed a foot and stretched his leg. "Speaking of her. I'm going to need to start making some more money if I want to keep taking her out. Do you know if Mom and Dad need help at the shop? Or do you need help with anything for the clinic?"
"You live with them. Don't you know if they need help at the shop?" Brayden asked.
"I haven't asked yet. The thought just struck me on the way here." Zachary switched legs.
Brayden switched positions and did more reps. "I don't know about them, but I don't need any help right now. The final touches are being put on the building, and I'm hiring non-medical staff. I don't really want to hire you as a janitor, and I doubt you have receptionist skills."
"I wouldn't be good at either one. Well, maybe a receptionist. Is it similar to being a cashier at the shop?"
"Kind of, but a lot more paperwork."
Zachary thought about it. "But you probably need someone full time. I just need part time work."
"With the twenty-four hour clinic, I might have to take what I can get." Brayden put down the dumbbells. "Tell you what. You see what's needed at the shop, and I'll see what kind of openings I have left. I've actually hired someone to oversee the hiring so I don't have to."
Zachary picked up some dumbbells. "Sounds like a plan. Thanks, Brayden."
"Anytime." Brayden moved across the room to one of the weight machines.
Zachary did some reps, looking around the room. The punching bag caught his attention, and he found that he didn't have so much negative energy this time. Things looked brighter already.
He finished his workout and then made his way back home, hoping to find out if he was needed at the shop. He'd worked there for a long time in high school. Surely, everything would come back once he started. Then he would have some money coming in so he could hopefully take Jasmine on a real date.
When he got inside the house, he heard conversation. At first, he thought his parents were talking with Cruz, but then Zachary realized that wasn't Cruz's voice.
He followed the voices into the kitchen.
"Rafael!" Zachary's eyes lit up. "What are you doing here?"
His older brother got up from the table and they embraced.
Rafael patted him on the back. "Good to see you, Zachary."
"You, too. What a surprise. What brings you back to Kittle Falls?"
"Can't a man come back to his family without a reason?" Rafael asked.
"He hasn't told us yet, either," their dad said. He shot Rafael a mock-annoyed expression.
"I'd love to hear about it," Zachary said, "My aching muscles are begging me to sit, though."
Zachary sat at the table, and Rafael sat across from him. He took off what was clearly a designer coat and laid it on the chair next to him. Then he undid the top two buttons of a deep purple silk shirt.
"That's better," Rafael said. "I don't know why I didn't dress more comfortably. No, that's not true. I wanted to fit in with the other first class passengers." He shrugged.
Zachary shook his head. "You'd fit in if you wore a t-shirt and shorts."
Rafael raked his fingers through his hair, looking as tired as Jasmine had. "Surely, you're not suggesting I would wear cotton?"
"Of course not." Then Zachary looked down at his own clothes—all cotton. "So, what brings you back home?"
"You people aren't going to give up, are you?" Rafael asked.
"Of course not," said their dad, glancing up from his crossword puzzle.
"Welcome home," Zachary said. He sniffed something sweet in the air. Peaches. "Do I smell Mom's famous cobbler?"
She smiled, getting up from the table. "Of course. All our boys are in town. It's cause for celebration."
Zachary raised an eyebrow. "Are you here to stay, Raf?"
"More like an extended vacation." Rafael repositioned himself in the chair and then sipped from a wine glass. "I had some… creative differences with my business partner."
"And now you're here?" Zachary asked. That didn't sound like Rafael.
"We agreed to part ways, and he bought out my share." Rafael took another sip.
"But you started the business," their dad said, sitting up taller. "Why did he get to keep it?"
"He didn't keep it," Rafael said, taking another sip. "He bought me out. But Tony took it to the next level in ways I never could. That's why I wanted to go into business with him. Things were going fabulous, but then it became clear we had different plans for the company, and we couldn't make it work moving in two different directions."
"Why did you sell out?" asked their mom.
"I've been thinking about returning since Dad was in the hospital," Rafael said. "I hate being away from everyone, and now even more so, knowing you're all here. My disagreements with Tony were the push I needed to make the move back. My plan is to start something up here. It might not do as well as in LA, but at least I'll be back home with everyone."
"But you said an extended vacation… does that mean you're staying?" Their mom looked at him with a hope-filled expression.
"I do need to return to LA at some point to tie up some loose ends," Rafael said, "but pretty much, I'm here to stay. I've been looking at real estate online and there are a few homes on the outskirts of town I'd like to look at."
"We have our family back," said their mom, her eyes filling with tears.
Ten
Jasmine opened the door to her condo, her mind stuck on Zachary. The kids made fun of her all afternoon for being in her own world, but since that was where Zachary was, she didn't mind putting up with the playful teasing.
The sight in front of her brought her back to reality—too much and too quickly. The couch was covered in empty bottles, but her mom was nowhere to be seen.
"Mom?" Jasmine called.
Silence.
Maybe Jasmine would be lucky and her mom had decided to leave town already. She put her purse down near the door and gathered the empty bottles, taking them back down to the recycle for the second time that day.
When she got back up to the condo, she thought about what to tell her mom. It wouldn't be easy, but she would need to kick her out unless she sobered up. Jasmine also needed to find out what she was doing in Kittle Falls and how long she planned on staying. Her mom hadn't told her anything.
Jasmine checked the couch for spills and cleaned up the ones could see. It felt like she was back home again. Cleaning up after her mom brought back more memories than she cared to think about—when her parents should have been caring for her and yelling at her not to drink alcohol, the roles had been reversed.
Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. She'd decided long ago to stop feeling sorry for herself and her ruined childhood. She had made it up to herself by having a blast with her dancing career and moving around the country without a care in the world, traveling from one production to the next as it suited her.
After she had cleaned up all her mom's messes—including dirty plates with caked-on food that hadn't made it into the sink—she looked through the condo to see if her mom had decided to crash on a bed. Thankfully not. Her bags still sat by the front door, so Jasmine knew she would be back at some point.
Her stomach rumbled, so she went to the fridge. All the food was gone, only leaving ketchup and a tiny amount of milk in the jug.
"Thanks, Mom," Jasmine muttered sarcastically. She'd even eaten Kate's food.
Jasmine slammed the fridge shut and snatched her purse. She would have to go grocery shopping and replace the food her mom had eaten. Either her mom hadn't eaten for days or she had the munchies, which meant she was doing more than just drinking. Not that that was a huge surprise.
Anger building, she stormed out of the condo. It only took a minute before she was furious. Everything flooded back from her childhood, only fueling her anger further. She thought she was done with her parents—there had been a reason she didn't keep in touch or tell them where she was.
Jasmine would find out who told her mom where she was and give them an earful. No one had a right to tell anyone anything about her, much less give out the address of where she stayed.
By the time she got back to the condo with her arms loaded with groceries, she was ready to scream at someone. Jasmine didn't even care if she caused a scene. After everything she'd been through, her mom had no right to waltz back into her life.
Everything was going well, she didn't need her mom ruining any of it. Her internship was going better than she had hoped, and now she'd even met a wonderful guy with sticking potential—at just the time she was ready to think about a serious relationship.
Why did her mom have to come back and potentially ruin everything? She and her dad had already done enough damage. Would they not stop until they killed her, too?
Seaside Dances_A Sweet Romance Page 6