What Lies Within Page 7

  As Fredrik reached the door, it opened toward him. He stepped aside so the man coming in could pass by. “Come, enjoy!” Fredrik waved a hand at the menu board. “Such nectar even heaven hasn’t got.” He tossed a wink at Rafe and was gone.

  Rafe stood, laughing to himself, and went to greet his customer. It was a man Rafe hadn’t seen before—blue-collar type. Interesting. With all the construction going on, road and buildings, he was seeing more and more strangers lately. Even so, his usuals normally came in before anyone else. “Mornin’.”

  The man glanced around as he came to the counter. “Morning.” His gaze came to rest on Rafe, who fought a smile. Clearly, this guy wasn’t overly comfortable in a coffeehouse. “I hear you got good coffee.”

  “Nope.” Rafe crossed his arms. “We have great coffee.”

  The man’s lips twitched. “So prove it.”

  “Let me guess … you want black. Straight up. No frills.”

  The man’s smile widened. “You got it.”

  As Rafe went to pour the coffee, he watched the man glance around. His eyes widened a fraction when he saw what was on the walls, and then, as so many had before him, he walked to study one of the photos displayed there.

  The same photo that seemed to catch everyone’s eye.

  It was a typical shot of a Marine. Military-issue green tank over desert camo pants. Muscled arms, one with a tattoo from shoulder to wrist, projecting strength despite their relaxed state. Gloved hands rested with familiar comfort, much the way many men’s hands rested on their briefcases, on the assault rifle hanging in front of him. Everything about the picture said gung-ho, hard-as-they-come, Semper Fi Marine.

  Until you noticed a splash of color.

  There, out of the side pocket of the Marine’s camos, peeked a brightly colored bouquet of wildflowers.

  That unexpected sight never failed to impact. Especially when the viewers spotted the two items next to the photo: one was a picture of a beautiful little girl of about six, dark eyes wide and happy; the other held a bouquet of dried wildflowers.

  Rafe’s customer studied the photo, glanced back at Rafe, then went back to the picture. His hand came up to touch the glass over the dried wildflowers.

  “Coffee’s ready.”

  The man eyed the picture a moment longer, then returned to Rafe. He took the cup Rafe held out, eyes traveling to the tattoo on Rafe’s left arm. He gave a slight nod. “It’s you.”

  “It’s me.”

  “Marine, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  He sipped the coffee. “Where’d you find flowers in the desert?”

  Rafe picked up a rag and wiped down the counter. “The little girl whose photo is with the flowers? She gave ’em to me. Just came up and held them out. She’d been trailing after me for days. I guess she decided she liked me. When I hesitated to take them, she opened the pocket on the side of my camos and slid them in.”

  “You wouldn’t take flowers?”

  Rafe shrugged. “Didn’t trust anyone. Couldn’t. I’d seen too many guys who did, and it cost them their lives.”

  “So she gave ’em to you anyway, huh?”

  “Yeah. My buddies got a kick out of it, this little bit of a kid comin’ up to a guy with a gun and giving him flowers. One of ’em took a picture with his new digital camera. Said he was going to print it out and give it to the little girl.”

  “Did he?”

  Every time he told the story it got to him, but he schooled his features not to let it show. “Didn’t get the chance. She and her family were killed when a suicide bomber attacked a nearby marketplace.”

  The customer halted mid-drink, his gaze riveted to Rafe’s.

  As hard as Rafe tried, he couldn’t escape the blow of that memory. If only he’d taken the flowers, opened his hand to a little girl.

  The man lowered the cup from his lips, then looked down. After a beat, he let out a pent-up breath. “You’re right. It’s great coffee.” He looked up at Rafe and held out a hand. “Doug Franklin.”

  Rafe shook the proffered hand. “Rafael Murphy.”

  “Well, Mr. Murphy—”

  “Rafe.”

  The man inclined his head. “Rafe, I don’t generally come to places like this. Too froufrou for me. But the guys on the job said your place is different. I can see they were right.” He lifted the cup in a salute. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Rafe tipped his chin. “Look forward to it.”

  The jingle of the bell over the door signaled another customer had entered, and Rafe saw three of his regulars coming in.

  No doubt about it. His business was a success, and then some. It brought him great satisfaction and a reason to get up every day. But he never imagined it would bring him the dream he’d given up so many years ago.

  The dream that was Kyla Justice.

  SEVEN

  “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

  MARK TWAIN

  “But when you ask him, be sure that you really expect him to answer, for a doubtful mind is as unsettled as a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind.”

  JAMES 1:6

  Rafe saw it the moment she pulled up outside his shop. Kyla’s car, easing into the parking space.

  She was back. He held his breath. Come on, Kyla … come inside …

  Seemed like he’d been wooing this woman most of his life. Even back when she was just a friend …

  Friend? Who you tryin’ to kid? You’ve been in love with her from the time you met her.

  In love? Hardly. He’d been twelve. It was a crush, nothing more. Still …

  He allowed himself a smile as he remembered. It might not have been love, but he’d had as serious a crush on Kyla as a kid that age could have. He glanced at her again. She’d been beautiful back then.

  She was stunning now.

  Come inside …

  As though she’d heard his silent call, she nodded, then turned to push open the car door and, her steps firm, walked around her car and headed for the door.

  His heart raced as he watched her, waiting for her to look at him. One step, two, and then she stopped, eyes drifting shut, and inhaled.

  Ahhh.

  Rich, dark, earthy … the fragrance of fresh-roasted coffee filled her senses. Though her fingers remained disciplined, her taste buds took up the tap dance.

  Oh yes, she needed this.

  Coffee. Was there anything more enticing, more uplifting than coffee? Not just any coffee, of course, but good coffee. The darkest, richest brews that served as a base for tantalizing concoctions. Blends of flavors she’d never think to combine. These creations were as much a masterpiece as anything she built, and Kyla indulged in trying new ones when they were posted on the colorful blackboard. Here, she could take risks. This was the one place she didn’t have to keep herself in strict control. The one place that eased the empty sense, deep inside. That felt like a haven. Like home …

  And not just because of the coffee.

  She opened her eyes, and there he was. Standing at the counter, dark eyes watching her, that enigmatic smile tipping his lips. Odd how at home he seemed behind the counter. If she’d seen him walking past her on the street, she never would have pegged him for a coffee barista. No, with that no-nonsense stride of his—a stride hindered only slightly by his use of a cane—that athletic build, and the flame tattoo traveling from shoulder to wrist on his left arm, she’d have figured him for someone who ordered his coffee black and strong.

  No frills.

  Maybe with the grounds still in it.

  And yet, here he was. Not just a good barista, but a great one. She’d been hesitant at first to stray from her standard grande-caramel-macchiato-skinny-no-whip. But he’d coaxed her, bit by bit, until she finally gave in and let him make one of his creations for her. Fr
om the first sip of the frothy concoction, she’d been hooked. When he saw her reaction, his smile deepened, and those dark eyes danced as though he reveled in her delight.

  No doubt about it, the man was every bit as enticing as the aromas filling her senses. Which was exactly why she’d decided she mustn’t come here anymore.

  “Hey, Miss J. Haven’t seen you for a few days.”

  So old-school respectful—Miss, not Ms.—and yet beneath the propriety there lingered a touch of warmth that never failed to up her pulse a notch. That calm voice, with a feather-touch of an accent, soothed her weary heart. So much so that his voice started to join the dance, but Kyla sent it to sit in the corner. Facing the wall.

  She was here for coffee, nothing more.

  You can say that again! You’re not even supposed to be here at all. You’re supposed to be back at your apartment. With Mason.

  The shock of reality jolted her. Oh dear. Mason.

  Yes. Mason. Mason Rawlins. You remember him? The man you’ve been dating for almost six months? The man who has asked you to marry him?

  A glance at her watch told her how late she was. For a second, she considered just turning to leave, but the sweet scent of coffee wooed her. It would only take a minute, then she’d be on her way. Besides, she’d given Mason the extra key to her town house, just in case. That way he could start on dinner if she was delayed.

  “Uh, Miss Justice?”

  Kyla frowned at the alarm in Rafael’s voice. Forehead creased, he was nodding at her jacket.

  “I think your coat’s alive.”

  She looked down, and sure enough, her jacket was wriggling to beat the band. So, her little friend had finally awakened. Before she could soothe the kitten, its head popped up, and a yowl split the air.

  Mortified, Kyla reached into the generous inner pocket where she’d settled the little tyke and lifted the kitten free. “I’m so sorry.” Her face had to be as red as the cherry syrup sitting on the counter. “I know I shouldn’t have brought an animal in here, but—”

  Rafael waved off her concern. “There’s no one else here, so it’s fine.”

  “But the health code—”

  His brows waggled. “You don’t tell anyone, neither will I. Deal?”

  Her agreement slipped out on a nod and a smile, and she looked down at the little troublemaker in her arms. “Rafael, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.”

  Warmth lit his features as he held out his hands. Kyla set the kitten in those large palms, noting how gentle his fingers were as he cupped and stroked the little animal. Rafael lifted the little head so the two of them were eye to eye. “You”—his gaze lifted to Kyla—“are adorable.”

  Quick heat filled her face, and she dropped her gaze to the kitten, reaching a finger out to pet the tufted head. Anything to distract herself from the look in his eyes.

  “What’s her name?”

  Kyla’s finger paused, and she stared at Rafael.

  “Now, how did you know she’s a she?”

  He inclined his head toward the kitten. “Calico. Most calicos—”

  “Are female. Yes, I know.” The vet had explained that while giving the kitten fluids and food. When she showed her surprise, he lifted a brow and asked what she knew about kittens. Her blank stare was all he needed. He’d given her a list of supplies and instructions.

  Who knew something so little could be so much work? But one look in those sweet eyes and any hesitation faded. This kitten was hers.

  She lifted the animal back into her arms. “As for her name, I don’t know yet. I’m waiting for her to tell me.”

  Rafael didn’t blink at that. “Sounds reasonable.”

  Really? She hadn’t thought so. In fact, the idea was far more an Annot kind of thing than it was Kyla. But she hit a dry well when she tried to unearth a name. Patches. Lucky. Chance. Noah (you know … saved from the rain).

  They all seemed too cliché. Normal. Run-of-the-mill.

  Either that or stupid.

  The way this little one came into her life was definitely none of those things. And almost in spite of herself, Kyla felt the little kitten deserved a name as unique as her circumstances.

  “So she’s a new part of your family, huh?”

  Kyla liked that. A part of her family. “Yes, as of today, in fact.” She explained what had happened that morning, and Rafael listened. He was so attentive. As if he really cared about what she had to say.

  There was something so … comfortable about this man. So familiar. She’d felt that way from that first visit to his coffee shop. As though she’d known him forever, not just a few months. Which only made it that much more appealing to stop in and indulge. In the coffee.

  And his presence.

  When she finished, he leaned against the counter. “I think that’s great. That the kitten chose you, and that you accepted. Too many people would have left it where it lay.”

  I almost did.

  She wanted to tell him that. To be honest about herself. Her struggle. But she just couldn’t. She couldn’t stand seeing the disappointment in those dark eyes.

  “You just have to love those little serendipities in life.” He chucked the kitten’s little chin. “Don’t you, little one?”

  “Serendipities.” Kyla let the word roll off her tongue. “That’s exactly what it was. A serendipity.” She looked from the kitten to Rafael, a smile easing across her mouth. “Serendipity. What do you think, girl? Is that you? Serendipity?”

  The kitten yawned, bringing one paw up to rest on Kyla’s fingers. Rafael’s deep chuckle sounded. “I think she likes it.”

  Kyla was sure he was right.

  “And when she’s mischievous, you can call her Dippity.”

  “Mischievous?” Kyla’s smile turned lopsided. “Ha. My cat will be perfectly well behaved.”

  Clearly, Rafael was doing all he could not to guffaw. “I was going to ask if you wanted your usual”—he motioned toward the kitten—“but it’s clear you’re feeling adventurous today.”

  Her? Adventurous? Only this man would ever think her so. She hugged the newly dubbed Serendipity close, feeling lighter than she had in days. Maybe even weeks. “Adventurous, eh? What have you got in mind?”

  He studied her a moment—those eyes so dark brown they almost seemed black—and she forced herself not to react. Should a traitorous tint of warmth fill her face she would simply pretend it wasn’t there. Because it wasn’t. Or shouldn’t b—

  “I know just what you need.”

  She didn’t doubt him for a second.

  Kyla leaned against the counter, one finger entertaining the kitten as she watched him work. Despite his limp and the ever-present cane, the man’s movements were a study in precision. Even if the décor in the coffee shop hadn’t told the story, one look would tell her he once was in the military.

  “Here, try this.”

  She looked down at the creation he held out to her. “Oh my.”

  The edges of his mouth lifted as he took the kitten so she could curve her hands around the cup. “It’s a new drink I created. A caramel-chocolate coffee shake topped with whipped cream and caramel drizzles. I call it Sabor a Cielo.“ Her eyes lifted to his as he translated. “A taste of heaven.”

  Oh … my … Her gaze drifted back to the drink.

  “Go ahead, give it a try.”

  She shouldn’t. The thing had to have a million calories. Still, just a taste couldn’t hurt, could it? She put her lips to the straw.

  Her eyes drifted shut. Taste of heaven was right.

  “You like it.”

  She smiled at him, taking another long draw on the straw, letting the rich flavor wash away the remnants of the day.

  “You okay, Miss J?”

  The caring concern in the question startled her. “I …” Words struggled to fall into place, to form some kind of cohesive response, but the look in Rafael’s eyes tipped her composure on its ear.

  Why did this man affect her this way? More to th
e point, why did he look at her the way he did? Like she was something precious. Treasured …

  “Miss J?”

  Thank heaven. A distraction. She tilted her head, painting a scold on her features. “Rafael, how many times have I asked you to call me Kyla?”

  His generous mouth barely betrayed a smile as he transferred his gaze to the kitten. “About as many as I’ve asked you to call me Rafe.”

  This was much better. Safer. Teasing repartee between friends. She arched a brow. “There’s nothing wrong with your full name.”

  “Nobody calls me Rafael, Miss Justice.” His wry smile peeked out again. “Nobody but my mother.”

  She almost laughed at that. “Please, won’t you do as I ask? Then I’ll know we’re really friends.” She reached out to lay her hand on his arm, intending only to add emphasis to what she was saying. But the moment she touched him, she knew.

  It was a mistake. A terrible mistake.

  Because deep within her chest, her heart exploded.

  It was just a touch.

  A simple gesture of friendship.

  So why did his arm suddenly feel like a landing pad for lightning?

  She must have felt something too, because her eyes went wide and her face … Well, to say she was startled was an understatement.

  He’d seen that look before. On young Marines during their first battle. Half terror, half exhilaration, one hundred percent adrenaline.

  Sure enough, she jerked her hand away and backed up. “I’m sorry!”

  “It’s okay.” He kept his tone low, calming. He didn’t want her to leave like this. “You’re fine.”

  “No … I …” She looked around, seemed relieved they were alone. Then she plucked the kitten from his hands and blurted out, “I’m late. I have to go.”

  Spinning on a heel, she was gone, the echo of the tinkling bell above the door the only sign she’d been there.

  That, and the lingering scent of her perfume, which, he thought as he drew the fragrance in, was the perfect sign an angel had been there.

  A sweet breath of heaven.