Secret Rooms and Stolen Kisses: A Romance Read online

  "It's m-my pleasure," Trey said, seeming like those weren't quite the words he was looking for.

  "Billy's trying to get y'all started," Mom said, noticing my dad on the other side of the gym. We turned and saw that Dad was gesturing for us. "Tara said she might bring you by the house tonight," Mom added.

  "Yes, ma'am, I hope so," Trey said.

  Mom smiled and waved at us, and we took off to meet my dad. I held eye contact with her after Trey had already turned around, and she made a face at me. It was a serious, wide-eyed, intense expression that made me smile. I knew she loved him. For goodness sake, she had almost cried twice in the same number of minutes.

  "I'm going to stick around for a little while!" Mom yelled. "I might be here when you're done."

  "Okay!" I yelled back.

  She was excited and curious, and I knew she was going to watch the class just to get a look at Trey.

  The wonderful thing was that Trey didn't seem to care. He knew everyone at that gym was scrutinizing and/or judging him on my behalf, and he walked right into it.

  I partnered with a brand-new guy named Sam, and Dad put on pads and went with Trey. Dad was in a good mood, and he was teasing Trey in a way that made me know he liked him.

  I could hear them a little during the class, but unfortunately Sam (an older guy who said he wanted to be a boxer his whole life) talked non-stop. He did what Dad instructed, and he swung for the fences when he did hit, but he worked slow enough that he was able to carry on a conversation the whole time.

  I was not like that. I was not accustomed to talking during class. I answered him with short answers, and I tried to keep us on track as much as possible.

  I didn't get to see Trey and my dad much at all. I could hear them some of the time, but Sam was a handful, and I was busy working with him. We were doing a particular combination toward the end of class that had us moving around some more. My dad and Trey ended up next to us. Trey was the one performing the drill, and I was aware of their rhythm, which was faster and smoother than mine and Sam's.

  My dad made three guttural noises in a row as he lunged forward. He delivered blows—hard, fast slaps with the pads. I stopped what I was doing with Sam just to see what was going on. Trey blocked and shifted out of the way of my dad's counter.

  "Ooh, that was good," Dad said, laughing. "You got hit with that yesterday."

  Trey smiled. "I know. I remember. It hurt. That's why it didn't happen today."

  "Good man," Dad said.

  I turned to Sam, catching his sequence of punches. He wasn't able to hurt me because I knew what I was doing and I was able to avoid the full power of his follow-through. He would go slow, and take time between each combo, but when he hit, he hit hard. He weighed a hundred pounds more than I did, and he was hitting pads like he had something to prove.

  I could handle it, though. My dad was aware of us, and he would deal with it if Sam got out of line. Plus, I would simply quit if I thought he was being too rough. I had done that more than once—just stopped and refused to go with someone. Anyway, this guy was nothing I hadn't dealt with before. It was just annoying on a day when I was trying to pay attention to other things.

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a second," Trey's voice came from next to us. I had been catching the combo, so I didn't look at him until after Sam finished.

  Trey was looking at Sam with a serious expression. "Are you seriously just going off like that. She's a lady, bro." Trey looked at me. "Has he been going like that the whole time?"

  "It's okay," I said.

  But the round was over and we were all breaking apart. It was the end of class, and my dad saw that Trey had said something to Sam. Dad diffused the situation by using Sam as an example. He called Sam over and began giving a boxing demonstration, going over a certain combination and explaining why it was effective at close range.

  I stood next to Trey while we watched my dad. He glanced at me. "Are you okay?" he asked.

  "Yeah, of course," I said. "But it's sweet that you would take up for me."

  My dad was saying something to the class, so Trey and I spoke quietly and discreetly.

  "I'll go with that guy next time," Trey said, with a serious expression.

  I smiled and shook my head at him, and both of us turned to look at my dad. He was demonstrating a counter on Sam, and he did it with an edge of roughness. As a fighter, showing tough physical love was something Dad did all the time. It was a type of conditioning they did around here. He was rough with people he loved in order to toughen them up. He would often slap hard on the back when he hugged people. He knew where to draw the line, however, and Sam didn't. He didn't mean harm, but he was new, and he needed to learn.

  Dad told Sam that there was no need to go so hard with our training partners—especially the ladies. He put it in a way that gently but firmly let Sam know he needed to chill out during drills.

  Class broke up after Dad's speech, and I stood there talking to Trey while we took off our gloves and pads.

  "Does that stuff happen to you all the time?" he asked, looking at me with a concerned but slightly confused expression.

  I gave him a reassuring smile. "It's not as bad as it looked or sounded. Those pads are thick. It's more noise than anything. And I know how to meet his punches just right where it hurts him worse than it hurts me. His hands and wrists are probably going to be way more sore than mine."

  He shot me that irresistible half smile.

  "What?" I said, smiling back.

  "You."

  "What about me?" I asked, stepping to the side so someone could get past me to the equipment rack.

  "You're… uhhh…" he trailed off with a breathy sigh that said he wasn't sure what to say. "I've never known anyone like you, Tara, not even close." He said it quietly and casually, shaking his head as he finished taking off his hand wraps.

  "Well, same here," I said. I filtered my response because someone else was walking past us as I spoke.

  I smiled regretfully at him since I knew it was a vague thing to say. I just didn't want to say what I was thinking which was, "I've never met anyone like you either, Trey Harper. I'm in love with you and I want to be with you forever and ever. Please marry me and let's have little Bank Street babies." No. Instead, I said, "I'm amazed that you're picking all this up so fast."

  He smiled. "I had fun."

  Chapter 21

  The following morning

  Trey had to go back to Nashville this morning.

  I was not prepared for him to go.

  We had seen a lot of each other during the last week, but I couldn’t help but feel like some of our time had been wasted. Maybe I was just salty because it was time for Trey to leave and the day had gotten here far too quickly. The last few days had been amazing—the stuff of fairytales. Trey and I looked at each other in a way that said we were in love. We had a connection that had intensified at such a rapid pace that I didn't understand how I was supposed to make it without him.

  We ate dinner with my parents and brother last night. My Aunt Abby and a couple of cousins came by while we were there, and Trey charmed all of them. My dad even liked him. He gave him family scoop and said things that I never imagined he would say.

  We were at my parents' house until eight, and then we went walking on the beach until midnight.

  I felt like Cinderella where everything came crashing down at midnight and I had to go back to the reality that he was leaving.

  We got a few hours sleep and then we woke up early and met for breakfast at the diner on the corner.

  We were just finishing up, and we knew he needed to get on the road within the next half-hour.

  "Do you want to go to the room for a minute?" I asked as we stood up from our place at the table.

  There were a lot of people in the diner, but we were right next to each other when we stood up, so I got away with asking the question quietly.

  Trey looked at me. His brown eyes were so dark that they appeared bottomless.
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br />   "I knew you were going to ask me that," he said.

  "You did?" I said, flashing him a smile. "Did you know if you would say 'yes'?" I asked.

  "I would never turn you down on that," he said, casually tossing a whopping ten-dollar-bill on the counter as a tip. Our whole meal was barely over ten dollars, and he seemed like a movie star when he just tossed a ten out there, not caring if anyone noticed.

  I was lost in thought when Trey took off, so I just followed him. I peered down absentmindedly as I walked. I heard my name. "Tara Castro!"

  It wasn't a surprise for me to hear my name since I often saw people I knew at Carson's. I looked up to find Mr. Donnie, a friend of the family—an older guy—my grandpa's age. He was a woodworker who had made furniture for all of us, and I had grown up seeing him and checking in with him over the years.

  I stopped at his table even though I was anxious to get to my appointment in the secret room. Mister Donnie would expect me to. Trey came with me. Donnie stood up to give me a hug.

  "How are you, Mister Donnie?" I asked, reaching out to hug him.

  "I'm fine, Tara, how are you?"

  "Good. Doing really well."

  "Are you still living across the street?"

  "Yes sir. Trey actually owns that building. He's the one who's been fixing it up." I smiled and gestured at Trey standing beside me, but then I kept talking. "I'll be opening up a ballet studio where Mr. McCain was."

  "Oh, really? I didn't know that. I knew you used to go over there to Gwendolyn Marshall's all the time for ballet lessons."

  "Yes sir, Ms. Gwendolyn's been my teacher for years. She's going to help me with opening this new place."

  "Well, that's good," Donnie said.

  "Donnie's the one who made that half-circle table in my entryway," I said, turning to Trey.

  "Oh, nice, wow, that's a great piece," Trey said, looking at Donnie with a thoughtful expression now that he knew something about him.

  Seeing that Trey was impressed, Donnie said, "You're welcome to come by my workshop anytime."

  "I'd love to," Trey said. "Maybe I'll get in touch through Tara."

  "I'd like that," Donnie said, shaking Trey's hand. "Wh-uh, I'm getting a delivery tomorrow—some teak wood and mahogany—if you want to see how it comes in."

  "Oh, thank you for the offer, and I actually really would do that, but I'm headed back to Nashville. I have to leave for the airport in just a minute or two."

  "Oh, I see. I didn't realize you weren't from here." Donnie glanced at our hands, which were interlocked.

  "Yes sir," Trey said. "I live just south of Nashville. I'm just here part-time, for now."

  "Oh, I see," Donnie said.

  I reached out and hugged him. "Bye, Mister Donnie," I said.

  "Bye, sweetie. Nice meeting you, Tara's friend."

  "Nice meeting you, too," Trey said.

  He pulled me out of the diner. I saw someone else I knew by the door, and they called to me. I called out a greeting to them, but I didn't stop. Trey was leading me, and he kept walking.

  We made our way out of the diner and onto the sidewalk. We crossed Bank Street at the corner and walked up the sidewalk that would take us back to Trey's building and the secret room.

  He held my hand as we walked. We said a few things about Donnie, but I was too sad to cope. My heart ached. I wanted him to stay so badly. I was trying to smile and act normal while in the middle of heartbreak feelings.

  And then, out of nowhere, Trey pulled me in an unexpected direction. He walked into the hardware store instead of just walking past their door like I anticipated he would do.

  "Where are we going?" I asked.

  "I need to grab something in here real quick," Trey said.

  I almost asked if it was something for his trip, but I decided to stay quiet. I walked alongside him, not saying a word, while he quickly walked through the hardware store. Trey had been in this store several times, and it didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. He came to a section of tools, and let go of my hand long enough to reach out and pick up a giant sledge hammer.

  Trey tossed it over his shoulder and began to walk toward the register. I had no idea what was going on. He paid for it, and we left the hardware store with a giant hammer slung over one shoulder. He held onto me with his free hand.

  "I assume you're not taking this on the plane with you," I said.

  "No," he said.

  "What are you doing with it?" I said, finally asking the obvious.

  "I'm sorry to do this," he said, in a somewhat regretful tone.

  "Do what?"

  "I’m not entirely sure," he said.

  "When is this happening? Are you doing something right now?"

  "I'll see," he said. "Just give me a second."

  He walked into the doorway of the Seabreeze Apartments and then climbed the stairs, looking like he was on a mission. I had the feeling he was going to do something crazy. He was pumped-up, and I knew something was going to happen with that hammer, I just didn't know what.

  "What's happening?" I asked, as Trey unlocked the door to my apartment.

  "I'm going to make sure it's okay. Before I do anything…" He trailed off and walked through my apartment and into my bedroom. He looked intense, moving quickly and easily toting twenty pounds of hammer.

  He went into my spare bedroom and walked to the far wall. I was standing several feet behind him and to his left, and there was a mirrored wall to his right. I watched him through his reflection because I could see his face better that way. He walked toward that back wall, staring at it intensely. He reached out and touched a spot on the wall before stepping back and taking a minute to survey the situation.

  I had no idea what to think. I just watched him, feeling excited and nervous. He looked at me.

  "I'm just going to open this up right here so it—" but he stopped talking in mid-sentence and gave a light swing, denting in a section of the wall.

  He must have thought the test was favorable because without warning, he reared back with the hammer and struck the wall with a full, breathtaking swing.

  I wasn't in any sort of danger, but I yelped and jumped back because I did not expect him to do that. I knew he had a sledge hammer and I could tell he wasn't messing around, but honestly, I never dreamed he would rear back and rip into the wall like Babe Ruth.

  And there he went again, another roaring whack. He swung back smoothly and then hit the wall with a force I was not expecting. That one was so hard that I could see light stream in from the other side of the wall where he had broken through. I gasped and my heart pounded, but I couldn't help but smile as I watched him.

  He looked at me. "Sorry, but the next time I come here. I'm staying with you. I'm sorry to make a mess and to do all this at the last minute, but I can't take it anymore. This way, with no wall here, we don't have a choice. I'll have to just marry you before the next time I come. I'll send someone to come make this a proper door or opening, or whatever you decide."

  "Are we making this one big apartment," I asked, shocked.

  "I figured we would," he said reasonably.

  I walked over to him, staring into his eyes. "Then I'll be able to get into the secret room from my apartment," I said.

  "That's the idea," he said.

  "I guess it'll be our apartment."

  "It already is ours. That's what this hole's all about."

  "Is it crazy that I love that you just bashed a hole in the wall?"

  "Not at all, especially seeing as how this particular wall was just in the way."

  "This whole moment, in a weird way, feels a little like a proposal," I said.

  "I hope it's not too weird, because it is a definitely a proposal. I'm marrying you, Tara. At least I hope so. I want to. If you do."

  He paused and looked at me as if waiting for an answer, and I just smiled and said, "Yes."

  "Okay, good. Thank you. I'm going to buy a ring and get it to you. I'll mail it if I have to. I'll work
it out. I love you, though, Tara, and I'm not letting you go. I don't see why we should spend any more time apart when we know we want to be together. I'd like to have the wedding in Nashville so my people can get to know you, but as far as our living situation, I guess I'll just move here. It seems like the logical choice for us, at least for now. Is that okay?"

  "Yes!" I said, smiling and holding back tears.

  "I'm also going to send someone to help you make a plan for this apartment do whatever we need to do to join the two." He gestured around us. "Think about what you want. You can configure it how you want. I'm sorry I put a hole in your wall. I just wanted to… I hoped that maybe it being here would force us to move things along."

  "I should say so," I said, peering through the hole into his apartment. "We're going to have two kitchens."

  I glanced at him and he smiled. "Yeah," but as he said it, he turned and grunted and shoved the heavy hammer into the wall. I was standing close to him, and he performed a tight swing so that he wouldn’t hit me. But his motion was efficient, and he bashed a significant chunk of the wall out of the way, pushing the pieces so they would fall into his side of the apartment. "Sorry, I had to even it out."

  "You're good at that," I said. "I wish you had time to do the whole thing so I could just step through."

  "I wish I did, too," he said. "But this will have to do for now." He set the hammer down on the floor next to him. "I'll send someone over to clean it up and make better access." He reached out and took me into his arms as he spoke. "I didn't plan on doing that, I just talked to Donnie about touring his woodshop, and I was all pumped up, so I…"

  I laughed at the thought of Donnie pumping Trey up. "You were not pumped about Donnie," I said.

  "I was a little. Not so much him, but how you were with him. How you are with everybody. I just see you interact with people, and I feel like…"

  He hesitated, and I said, "…like you need to bash holes in walls?"