Winning Her Forever

What does a man think about when he’s totally alone? Wearing his helmet made her feel close to him, even though his thoughts and feelings were unknown to her. She was glad to have it.

About ten minutes later, they turned onto a gravel driveway. The roadside bar had no sign. Motorcycles and pickup trucks cluttered the parking lot. In the windows were colorful neon images of a martini glass, a bottle of champagne with the cork exploding and a frothy mug of beer.

In spite of the place’s quirky appearance, Sonya’s anticipation grew as Trent angled his cycle into a space. Before she knew what was happening, he was off the bike, and she took his hand as he assisted her.

She removed her helmet, handed it to him, and he put them both in the case and locked it.

She brushed her fingers through her flattened curls to bring them back to life.

The front door of the bar opened, and a man half walked, half stumbled out on the raucous notes of a classic rock tune from a jukebox.

He held the door open for the couple. “Enter, beautiful ones!”

Sonya blushed. Although she appreciated the compliment, the guy was obviously drunk.

“Thanks, man,” Trent said, a smile on his face. “Do you need a ride home?”

“Nope. Rocky took my keys and called me a cab.”

Trent patted the guy on the shoulder. “Good. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

They stepped over the threshold and heads turned.

“Hey, Rocky, got a table for two weary travelers?”

The bartender nodded and pointed to a dark corner. Many in the attractive, diverse crowd shouted hello and waved in their direction as they walked to the back of the restaurant.

Sonya nudged his elbow and he leaned in so close she could smell his aftershave. “Do you know everyone here?”

He put his arm around her as they shuffled through a glut of people dancing. “No, but they know me, apparently.”

Sonya wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Could it have to do with him being a so-called heartbreaker? She made a mental note to ask him later.

Trent pulled out one of the old bentwood chairs so that she could be seated first, impressing her with his old-school chivalry. The table was scarred with a variety of initials carved into the polished wood, and a couple of quotes that made her cheeks get hot.

“Are you sure we’re going to get out of here alive?” she asked, only half joking.

“You are perfectly safe here with me. I got you here, didn’t I?”

She arched a brow and folded her arms.

“I didn’t have much choice, did I?”

He reached over and lifted her chin with the pad of his thumb.

“Yes, you did. And in my opinion, you chose wisely.”

A waitress came by and dropped off a couple of menus and two waters, heavy on the ice.

Trent sat back in his seat as the woman stood there pen in hand. “Everything is good here, but I prefer the veggie burger and fries. Sound good?”

Sonya made a point to peruse the selections, even though his choices were not unlike something she’d choose for herself on a Friday night of fun when she didn’t have a performance.

Before she could nod in agreement, Trent gave the waitress their orders and Sonya reluctantly gave up her menu.

When they were alone, Trent frowned, as if he’d just realized his mistake. “I’m sorry. I should have given you more time.”

Sonya tapped one finger on her lips. “Let me guess. You’re the kind of guy who acts first and begs forgiveness later.”

“Bingo. Would you call that being arrogant or bold?”

“Will I get an F if I tell the truth?”

“No, but will it make you feel better if I told you this was the first time I’ve ever taught a class? I’m making this up as I go along. You won’t tell, will you?”

She shook her head. “I guess we’ve both had a rough first day.”

“I do want to thank you for suggesting the hardware store field trip. It really makes sense.”

“You’re welcome.”

An attractive man in a green-and-white button-down shirt and blue jeans stopped by their table. Without asking, he dropped in the space next to Sonya and turned toward her.

“Excuse me, beautiful. I don’t mean to intrude, but I’ve got an important question for your man.”

Before speaking, he’d taken a second to wave his left hand, the one bearing his gold wedding band, in front of her face. In her opinion, he was either very devoted to his wife, or feeling guilty for cheating.

Her eyes caught Trent’s and he gave a rueful shake of his head as he introduced them.

“Don’t mind this clown, Sonya. Dario is an old buddy of mine that I allow to tread on my last nerve,” Trent replied good-naturedly.

“When are you going to lower the prices on those homes in that new development of yours, Waterson, so that guys like me can afford them? I’m tired of my wife nagging me about it.”

Dario’s face registered no emotion, so Sonya couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious.

Trent, on the other hand, seemed as uncomfortable as she had been when she’d first walked into the bar, like a stranger among friends.

“How much do the homes go for?” she asked.

“They start at a million and go up from there,” Trent replied in a nonchalant tone.

“The base price of a Waterson home gets you four walls, a doorbell and that’s about it,” Dario replied.

Trent leaned back in his chair and shrugged his shoulders. “Welcome to the world of custom homes. Everything is an add-on.”

Though Trent’s words sounded good, his friend didn’t appear convinced. In fact, he looked even angrier.

“You know that I don’t set the prices. My brother and my father do. I just build the houses to spec, on budget and on time.”

“You’re starting to sound like a salesperson. You know I’ll never be able to buy one of your mega mansions, especially now.”

Dario slammed one fist on the table and she jumped. A trickle of sweat ran down her spine as bad memories flooded her brain.

The tables were very close together, and Dario was blocking her only way out. The sense that she was trapped made her light-headed, and she knew she needed some fresh air right away.

She braced her right hand on the table and tried to stand up. “Excuse me, please.”

Trent’s palm closed over her hand, and she hitched in a breath. The warmth from his skin forced her to concentrate on his touch, instead of her panic. He mouthed the words, It’s okay, motioning with his chin for her to sit back down, so she did.

Trent leaned in close and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry you were laid off from your job recently, but I’m a regular guy, just like you.”

Dario folded his arms. “Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”

Trent caught Sonya’s eye before speaking.

“Don’t go spreading this around town, but I believe we’re looking into building homes with a lower price point. If that happens, you’ll be the first to know. We’ll be hiring local workers.”

Trent’s words diffused the tense situation, and the men shook hands. Dario tipped an imaginary hat toward Sonya and then left.

“Was that guy a friend or an enemy?”

Trent glanced over at the bar, where Dario saluted him with a full mug of beer, and back at her.

“I wish I knew.”

“So guys have frenemies, too?” she chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah.” He paused. “Can I ask you a question? You nearly hit the ceiling when he pounded on the table. I’m sorry that Dario’s actions startled you.”

He paused a beat, as if he expected her to explain.

“It just surprised me, that’s all.”

She didn’t want Trent to think she was being overly sensitive, and it was too soon to talk about the reasons for her reactions.

She cupped her hand over her mouth and faked a yawn. “He definitely woke me up.”

“I think there’s more, but I’m going to let it go for now. Anyway, I’m sorry for the interruption. My brother makes me a lot of money, but he also causes me a lot of trouble. He’s not the easiest man to like, or to defend.”

“Aren’t you a co-owner?”

“My father gave us equal control, but I’m more comfortable in a bulldozer than in the boardroom.”

Sonya felt that invisible jolt inside when one connected with a kindred spirit.

She’d felt the same way when she was a ballerina. She didn’t want to be bothered with the business side of things; she just wanted to dance.

“Are you really going to build more affordable housing?”

Trent folded his arms and rested them on the table.

“Let me put it to you this way. I think we should. But that doesn’t mean we will. The only thing my father and brother care about is making money.”

“And what about you?” she asked. “What do you care about?”

“Building custom homes that allow families to live their lives in a safe, secure community.”

“Sounds like a viable mission statement.”

“The difference is that I believe it and work it every day.”

“Maybe I’ll get to meet your brother one day.”

“No, you won’t. I want to keep you all to myself.”

“Now who is being selfish?” she teased back.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asked.

She took a sip of beer. “I’m an only child.”

“Are you a little emperor?” he teased, referring to the stereotype that only children were selfish because they had no siblings and never learned to share.

“No, but I’m the master of my own destiny.”

“And what do you see in your future?”

She tapped her index finger on her lips. His question took her by surprise. Since high school, she’d had her life mapped out. Her plan had been to graduate from college, audition for a major dance organization, be accepted and spend the rest of her life onstage, retire early and then teach.

Somewhere along the way, as reoccurring injuries kept her sidelined, causing her to lose some key roles, she was forced to face a new reality. She knew that audiences were fickle, but didn’t know that they could make or break a season. Many of her friends had gone on to other careers, because being a dancer simply wasn’t sustainable. She never thought she’d be one of them, but here she was, back in Bay Point, living in her father’s house.

“Let me see. I’d like to pass your class and get home in one piece, does that count?”

“I have it on good authority that both will come true.”

“Are you a magic genie?”

He laughed. “No, just a man who has complete confidence.”

After they finished their meal, Sonya excused herself to use the restroom while Trent paid the check. Outside, she gave him directions to her home. When he tried to help her with the helmet, she nudged his hand away.

“I think I can do this by myself now.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Suit yourself.”

Sonya noted the hint of disappointment in his voice and figured that a man with his reputation wasn’t used to having a woman say no. She wasn’t helpless, just confused about all the feelings swirling inside of her.

When they arrived, she got off the motorcycle and handed him the helmet.

His eyes scanned over her house. “You’ve got a couple of shingles missing off your roof.”

She followed his gaze, wondering how he’d spotted them, as she hadn’t seen them before.

“I actually need to have the entire house inspected—inside and out.”

“I can give you a few names to call, if you’d like.”

“I’d appreciate that. Thanks for the ride, and for the dinner.”

“It was my pleasure. When can I see you again?”

“Next week. Outside the hardware store, remember?”

He winked. “You’re lucky I’m a very patient man.”

As she watched him drive away into the night, she murmured, “You’re going to be waiting a while.”

As long as she kept this gorgeous man at arm’s length, she could continue to figure out how she was going to live the rest of her life. Not as a dancer on a stage, but like a regular person.

No applause, no curtain calls and no encores.

Chapter 4

Trent groaned aloud as he pulled into the parking lot, wishing he could turn around and go somewhere he really wanted to be.

He drove past his reserved spot in the front of the two-story glass-walled building, a contemporary 1980s monstrosity that housed their multi-million dollar construction and real-estate business. He didn’t like his family to see when he arrived, and he preferred to leave without notice.

He waved to a barista smoking a cigarette as he parked his pickup truck in the back of the building.

The family rented out the first floor to an independent coffee shop, and their offices were on the second floor.

They also owned and leased space in two equally large office buildings of the same contemporary style on either side.

He stayed away from the office as much as he could, but every week he had to attend a staff meeting.

Even though it was the middle of the morning, Trent grabbed an espresso before taking the elevator to the second floor. He’d rather be at the other end of a dental drill than at the weekly staff meeting or, even better, spending time with Sonya.

Trent chuckled to himself, and could hardly believe he was actually looking forward to teaching the home repair class, rather than dreading it.

He was still smiling as he pulled open the glass doors to the office. His brother, who was chatting with the receptionist, shot Trent a look of disdain.

“Couldn’t you have changed your shoes before coming to the office?”

Trent glanced down at his muddy construction boots.

“I wanted to install a shower in the office, but you decided you needed your own personal bathroom with a full-length mirror and a jetted tub.”

Steve spread his arms and grinned. “I’m here in the office so much it’s practically my second home. Too bad I can’t say the same for you. Where have you been? I was trying to reach you all night.”

“I was busy having a life. You could take notes from me.”

Steve was older than Trent by two years, but he’d been blessed with a baby face complemented by dark caramel skin, which made him scorned by most men and desired by many women. It was his job to scout and acquire land for custom-home projects. On the side, he bought foreclosed and distressed properties for rehabbing and reselling, which fueled his habit for designer clothes, luxury cars and lavish vacations around the world.

“Ha ha. But seriously, I need you to hop on a plane to New Mexico.”

Trent almost spit out his coffee. “What? Are you nuts?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know that we’re planning on expanding our portfolio to Albuquerque. I need you to go there and look at a plot of land.”

“Sorry, no can do.”

“Why not?”

“First of all, you know I can’t stand flying. Second, I would never leave my projects halfway done, and last, I’ve got a class to teach.”

“What class?”

Trent shot him a look, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Oh, that one. Can’t you skip it?”

“Like you did? Not a chance.”

Steve patted him on the back. “I knew you could handle it, little bro.”

They walked into the conference room where Lawrence and Agnes Waterson were already seated at opposite heads of the table.

His father was on a phone call, so Trent just shook his hand, and then he walked to the other end of the table to reach his mother.

He kissed her on the cheek. “Hello, Mom. Sorry I’m late.”

Agnes Waterson, from whom he’d inherited his dark honey complexion, had just turned fifty and was an important balance of reason and influence in her testosterone-heavy clan. The petite self-ascribed people person enjoyed serving others in her role as director of marketing and human resources. She loved to spruce up the company’s headquarter offices.

She returned a warm smile. “Good to see you. I heard you and your brother talking outside.”

“Yes, he was asking me to fly, and he knows I hate to fly, and besides, I don’t have the time.”

“Come on, Mother,” Steve cut in. “Even though I’m the first born, you always loved Trent more and thought he was a perfect little angel. He’s got to have wings hiding underneath all that muscle somewhere.”

“I love you both equally.”

She got up to straighten one of the framed renderings of the developments that hung on the walls. “There’s fresh coffee and muffins if you’re hungry.”

Trent stepped over to the antique mahogany sideboard that Agnes had insisted be put into the conference room to lend the room an air of elegance.

Of course, Steve was already there, munching on the last banana muffin, which he knew was Trent’s favorite. He settled for pumpkin, but only because he was really hungry.

Lawrence ended the conference call with an audible huff and a growl. He put his palms facedown on the table, as if he were about to stand up. Trent had long learned that was a habit, something his father did to steady himself after a difficult conversation. As president and CEO of Waterson Builders, he had plenty of those every day.

At six foot four, he towered over both of his sons and his wife, but never used his stature as a point of intimidation. It was when he stroked his neatly groomed salt-and-pepper beard that they all knew to brace themselves—not for yelling or screaming, but for tough questions. The company that he’d founded was his baby and he would do anything to protect its interests.

“What are you two boys squabbling about now?”

“Angel’s wings, Dad,” Steve said jokingly as he pulled out his chair and sat down.

“Here’s something that’s not very funny,” his mother said. “Have you read the latest editorials in the Bay Point Courier? That’s the first topic on our agenda today.”

“No, and I don’t want to hear it,” Trent’s father said, and Steve agreed with a nod.

Agnes threw up her hands in disgust. “You two are as stubborn as mules.”

Trent sat down and began to thumb through the paper in front of him. “What’s going on, Mom?”

“Backlash galore,” she replied with a huge huff of a breath. “Everyone is complaining that our homes are too expensive, and out of reach for the average income-earning person.”

“I don’t know what the problem is,” Steve muttered, placing his paper to the side. “Luxury homes are our business. We’re not any different from any other company that services high-net-worth customers.”

“I agree with Steve. We’ve been successful for over twenty years because our customers are overjoyed with their homes.”

“There’s even an editorial from Mayor Langston,” Trent said, scanning the page. “He thinks it’s our civic responsibility to build affordable housing. I’m actually surprised we haven’t been called out before this.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” his father demanded with a slam of his fist on the table.

Trent’s tone was grim. “The luxury townhomes and apartments downtown that were built during the period of revitalization can only be afforded by the wealthy. They’re out of reach for many longtime residents of Bay Point.”

“We’re a private company, not a public institution. We are only accountable to ourselves and our customers,” Steve piped in.

“Don’t forget the hundreds of people we employ every day in Bay Point and other cities in the region,” his mother added. “We play an important role in the local economy.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.