Strawberry Kisses (A Rocky Harbor Novel Book 2) Read online

  Strawberry Kisses

  The Rocky Harbor Series

  Book 2

  By Marianne Rice

  Strawberry Kisses

  Copyright © 2017 by Marianne Rice.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: March 2017

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-028-2

  ISBN-10: 1-64034-028-9

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For Rick…

  Thanks for giving me lots of entertaining big brother stories to share with my children: vitamin and butter sandwiches, banana guns, paper routes, chestnuts roasting over an open fire, spankings and wooden spoons, mullets and leather pants. Even though you had cooties when we were little, you’re still my favorite brother.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

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  Chapter One

  Rachael

  “I don’t have a good feeling about this.” Rachael Riley clasped her shaking hand around her throat and swallowed. Her knees shook as she tapped her Nikes on the floorboard of her sister’s old Toyota.

  “Dude. Man up. This is just what the doctor ordered. You need to kick some ass.”

  Rachael bit her tongue and calmed her breathing. She and her sister were as opposite as could be. While Lucy’s punk rocker sense of style had toned down over the past year, her attitude still reflected her wild side.

  Lucy had only been part of the family for six years, adopted at seventeen, and by then Rachael had moved across the country to live with her boyfriend. If she’d only known how that would turn out.

  Since returning to Rocky Harbor, Maine and reclaiming her life, Rachael had slowly gotten to know her eclectic sister. Before Lucy, Rachael was the youngest of the five children the Rileys had adopted, and the only girl. While Rachael had the benefit of being raised by the loving family since she was eight, Lucy had come into their lives as a hardened, abused, and druggy teenager. They’d hardly been sisters, much less friends for very long. And even then, their conversations were usually limited to food and weather.

  And now here they were, sitting together outside The Warehouse, which looked like a guy gym. How the heck did she let Lucy talk her into this hair-brained idea?

  “Maggie didn’t say I needed to kick some ass,” Rachael mumbled as she opened the car door. Therapy with her soon-to-be sister-in-law had really helped Rachael get through and process the past years—heck, the past few decades of her life—but taking self-defense classes had never come up in their sessions. This was all Lucy’s idea.

  Lucy rounded the hood and draped an arm around Rachael’s shoulder. “Maggie agreed that the class was a good idea. Think of this as a sister bonding thing.”

  “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind. What happened to talking over coffee and a bagel?”

  “Everything is always about food with you. Come on.” Lucy tugged her arm, pulling Rachael toward the ominous gray and green steel structure.

  If it wasn’t for the sign in the parking lot indicating the boxing ring, self-defense and karate classes, one would think it was a warehouse storing…stuff.

  “Can’t we just go for a run or something?”

  “You do look like you’re dressed more for that than a kung fu class. Thank God Maggie got you out of that dreadful wardrobe you used to hide behind. This suits you much better.”

  Rachael glanced down at her running shorts and the silly shirt Graham got her. ‘Obey the Cook’ flared across her chest. When she fled California she’d left all her belongings behind. Dylan had controlled every aspect of her life, from what she ate to what she wore and where she went. He wanted a thin, plastic, tanned bimbo on his arm to show off. When she returned to Maine she borrowed some of her mom’s old skirts and loose T-shirts, not caring how she looked. Hiding behind her long hair and baggy clothes, she had felt safer.

  She glanced at Lucy’s get up. Tight black spandex shorts and a Depeche Mode tank top that looked like it had been around for a few decades. “You’re wearing running gear too.”

  “Yeah. But I don’t look cute.”

  “I don’t look cute.”

  Lucy snorted, opening the door for her. “I hear the instructor is hot. Like I want to lick the sweat off your abs hot.”

  “That’s disgusting.” Rachael scowled as she walked inside. She’d made headway in the past year. Her ex was still in jail, and would be for a few more months, and she detailed out a plan to start her own business, Kids in the Kitchen. Mingling with adults made her edgy, but Rachael loved to cook and kids were cute. Men, on the other hand, intimidated her.

  And she hated Dylan for that. Never again would she allow another human being to control her. She wasn’t a weak-minded idiot, but living with his abuse for five years turned her into someone she wasn’t. Her mother and brothers, God bless them, had been patiently trying to help Rachael crawl out of her shell, and with the help of Maggie, she was one step closer. Having a therapist marry into their family was kismet.

  All the Riley kids had issues, none wanting to talk about them. But when Doreen Riley adopted them, she loved, nurtured, and raised them, giving each teen all the love in her heart as if she’d borne all six of them herself.

  “You’re stalling, sis. I signed us in. Let’s go.”

  Rachael snapped out of her memories and took in her surroundings. Even with the subtle scent of sweat, the inside of the building was much nicer than the outside. The steel walls were gray and covered with large, framed black and white prints of boxers and fighters. She recognized Mohammad Ali but the others weren’t familiar to her. Not exactly her thing.

  MMA announcements were littered across the walls as well. She had no idea what the acronym stood for, but knew it had something to do with fighting. Oh, the irony. She left the abuse a thousand miles away and here she was, standing in the middle of a building that promoted the pounding of fists. Chills ran up her arms, despite the warm air. Rachael clutched her stomach with one hand and her throat again with the other as a bead of sweat formed above her upper lip.

  The dark shroud that had lifted during the past few months slowly made its way over her body.

  “It’s not what you’re thinking,” Lucy said softly, her arm hooked around Rachael’s shoulder.

  “And what exactly am I thinking?” She clenched her legs and butt to stop the trembling as her fingernails dug into her neck.

  “I can tell by the deer in the headlights look on your face. And you’re sweating.”

&
nbsp; “It’s hot in here.”

  “Not that hot. Listen, the registration fees go to women’s shelters and programs for abused women. This place has a good rep. The instructor guy, the hot one I was telling you about, has been teaching these classes for a few years.”

  Rachael let out a soft sigh and relaxed her hand. “How do you know?”

  “I have my own skeletons too, Rach.” Lucy stuck a nametag on Rachael’s chest. “I know we’re not chummy yet, and you don’t have to tell me all the deets from what happened.”

  “Deets?” Rachael only had three years on Lucy but sometimes she felt decades older. With Lucy’s pixie do, her dark hair bleached blonde, and overly confident attitude, the adopted sisters would never be confused as blood sisters. Yet she’d always consider her adopted siblings as the real deal. Blood wasn’t always thicker. Love was. It’s what her parents ingrained into the kids from the moment they signed the adoption papers.

  Heck, even before then.

  “Details.” Lucy gently squeezed her shoulder. “I know the asswipe knocked you around. Physically and mentally. And I get that you don’t want to talk to me about it. I’m cool with that. But there’s nothing wrong with learning some self-defense moves. No woman should ever let a man have that kind of power over her. If you can knock him on his ass, you can run and get help. Plus, it’s a good workout. Let’s do this.”

  It wasn’t the pep talk Rachael had hoped for, but she knew her sister meant well, and somehow the veil lifted. Since Maggie had agreed that this would be a good idea as well, Rachael dropped her hand from her throat and concentrated on her yoga breathing techniques.

  “I told you I’d try it out. You owe me coffee and a bagel afterward.”

  “Deal. And if it totally sucks, I’ll buy. But if the instructor is as hot as his reputation, the bill is on you.”

  “Okay.” Rachael laughed, the sound surprising to her ears. Lucy quirked her eyebrow, that confident air she had lifting the corner of her mouth.

  They followed a narrow hallway to a big open space in the back. Hardwood floors gleamed under the sunlight that filled the room from the floor to ceiling windows. In the front was a large mat, with smaller mats scattered around the perimeter.

  There were at least a dozen people in the class already, ranging from their teens to Generation X. All in workout gear. And all women.

  “Hey, class. You all ready to get started?” A deep voice filled the room and everyone stilled, then turned. Except for Rachael. She didn’t know if she could go through with this.

  “Holy hell,” Lucy said a little too loudly.

  Rachael had never been one to swoon over a good-looking guy, but when she glanced up and saw the man standing in front, she nearly lost her balance. He towered over the women in the class, his wide, strong shoulders built to carry fifty-pound bags of flour. Or a fire hose. Or a woman.

  Hair as dark as ebony, and eyes that matched, should have made him appear menacing, but his enormous grin gave him a boyish charm. The black T-shirt he wore stretched tight over his shoulders and chest, and a tattoo that she couldn’t decipher peeked out beyond his shirtsleeves and crawled up his neck. He had trouble written all over him.

  Yet she wasn’t scared. Not yet.

  “Feeling confident in your ability to protect yourself empowers you to live with less fear and more freedom.” He paused, and Rachael peered up at him through her bangs. “Welcome to session one. I’m Jake Morgan and I’ll be your self-defense instructor for the next few weeks.”

  “Weeks?” Rachael asked, apparently loud enough for the hot instructor to hear.

  “Yes, weeks.” He smiled at her and her knees buckled.

  “You’re welcome,” Lucy said, grabbing ahold of her wrist, not taking her eyes off Jake.

  Rachael blinked away her trance and forced her head to turn toward her sneaky sister. “You said one class,” she whispered harshly.

  “Again. You’re welcome.” Lucy’s grin lit up her face, the little devil. “And you’re buying.”

  ***

  Jake

  Jake’s day just turned a little bit brighter. While he loved volunteering his time to teach self-defense classes, the past week had been crazy at work and the gym. He’d logged in almost four hours of sleep last night between designing the new landscaping for the Rocky Harbor Park and taking care of Julia. All he wanted was some shut-eye, but when he walked in to the sparring room and saw the cute blonde, his body perked.

  Usually women her age flocked to the front row, like the rocker-looking girl next to her obviously wanted to do. The blonde’s jittery gestures and hunched shoulders revealed a nervousness he was all too familiar with. There were all sorts of reasons why women took his class. To be prepared in case anyone ever tried to attack them, because they had been in an abusive relationship before and wanted to take charge of their life, or because they were looking to hook up.

  All too much lately it had been the latter. And while Jake was quite fond of the aggressive woman seeking him out, he’d like to think the women signing up for this class were taking it seriously. The blonde looked like she fit the serious mold, while her sidekick filled the other role.

  He’d have to tread lightly with her and tamp down his desire, respecting her skeletons and what brought her here today. Darkness veiled his eyes as he clenched his fists and thought of Julia. If he hadn’t screwed up the first twenty years of his life, she wouldn’t be in the condition she was in now.

  Giggles from the back row brought his attention back where it should be. On his class of new students.

  Especially the blonde. Clearing his throat, and his mind, he showed his pearly whites and softened his smile, wanting his new students to feel comfortable and safe with him. “As your self-defense instructor, I’ll be teaching you the critical life skill of personal protection. Unlike martial arts, which takes years to master, self-defense is a combination of the correct tactics and strategies with a single scope and purpose. Survival.” Jake made eye contact with each person in his class, reading their expressions, identifying who signed up out of fear, and who was taking the class for the sole purpose of kicking ass. They were fun to work with, but often got cocky and forgot about the skills, focusing on the aggression. It was the insecure women he liked working with. Watching them grow and break free of their demons throughout the course and ending up stronger, mentally and physically, than when they started.

  “My self-defense training system is the ultimate close combat defensive tactics program. However, before we can begin tactics, we need to understand concepts.” Jake paced the front of the room, his arms loose at his sides. His stern voice needed to direct power, but not threaten those who had been or were currently victims of abuse. He gentled his tone even more as he made eye contact with an elderly lady in the back row. “At the very least, it will get you out of trouble, and in the worst case scenarios, it will ensure your survival.”

  “I’d like to get in a scenario with him,” he heard the blonde’s friend mumble.

  “It’s not a sport like wrestling, boxing, or mixed martial arts. I will help you learn combative skills within a short period of time. But I need your honesty, your willingness to work hard, and your best foot forward. If at any time you feel uncomfortable with me or the tasks I ask you to do, please do not hesitate to speak up.”

  Jake shifted his attention toward the beautiful blonde hiding behind her long hair. “I will never, ever force you to do something you’re not comfortable with. Ever.”

  She didn’t make eye contact with him, but her head lifted a little, her gaze remaining on his chest. And he couldn’t ignore the odd flutter he felt in his gut. He reluctantly moved his gaze from the blonde and engaged the rest of the room. “You all look like you came ready to work out, but before I teach you the physical techniques…” he paused while some of the younger women snickered “…we must work on the conceptual. Our first task is to talk. I’m going to divide you into four groups. I want you to spend a few minutes sharin
g with each other what you plan on getting out of this course. What’s your purpose? Why are you here?”

  As expected, the women’s feet didn’t move, their heads swiveling around in confusion. The spunky, vocal girl moved first, pulling her blonde friend with her.

  “Actually.” He stepped in front of them and spoke to the energetic girl first. “I’d prefer if you split up.” He looked down at their nametags. “Lucy.”

  “Sorry, dude. I’m staying with my sister.” She draped her arm around her sister, her hand covering the nametag, and gave him the stare down. If his attention hadn’t already been captured, he might have enjoyed sparring with Lucy a little more.

  “I’m sure your sister appreciates your loyalty, but I’ve found people tend to be more honest about their purpose for attending this course when they’re not with the person they came with.”

  “Rachael doesn’t lie. She’s as honest as they come.” Lucy pulled Rachael in a little tighter, causing her to stumble.

  “Lucy, I’m fine. I don’t mind separating,” the woman said in a barely audible whisper.

  “Yeah, well, I made you come. I got your back.”

  “I know and I appreciate that. But really, I can handle this,” Rachael said a little louder, ducking under her sister’s arm. She lifted her chin, revealing the most gorgeous, round blue eyes that didn’t quite reach his. “Which group would you like me to work with?”

  Her voice was sweet and soft, like his mother’s sugar cookies straight from the oven. Hell, with an innocent bat of her eyelashes and a few casual words she had his insides all warm and mushy, wishing for his mother’s baking instead of focused on the purpose of the class.

  An unfamiliar longing lodged in his throat, inhibiting him from speaking. “Mine,” he croaked.

  Lucy snorted and shook her head, walking to the opposite corner. Jake gestured with his head and watched Rachael move toward the front, where a group of four other women had gathered. Each took their turn introducing themselves and stating whether they were dragged here or joined out of curiosity, while Jake took mental notes.