Читать книгу Winning Her Forever - Harmony Evans - Страница 12
Оглавление“Welcome to Everyday Repairs for Women. I’m Trent Waterson, your instructor.”
Sonya’s mouth dropped open and she almost did a double take as he thumped his backpack down onto the old wooden desk at the front of the room.
The man from the coffee shop was her teacher?
He’d changed into a plain white cotton shirt. Though it appeared worn, on him it looked as though it had cost hundreds of dollars.
He scanned the room with a friendly expression on his face. There was no outward indication that he recognized her. Her heart sank with disappointment. They’d only met fifteen minutes earlier. While she didn’t expect him to jump up and say hallelujah, was she that forgettable?
“If you’ve come here to learn how to fix things, you’re in the right place,” he continued, palms flattened on the desk. “Though I must warn you, this class will probably not be as exciting as some of the home-improvement shows you may have seen on television, but I do promise you’ll have fun.”
Sonya detected a hint of a tremor in his authoritative voice, and she looked around the room, wondering if anyone else had heard it, too.
The faces of her classmates were frozen in rapt attention, hanging on the edge of his next word, and she held back a grin. Mr. Waterson must have been the reason for the long waitlist. Lucky for her, a spot had opened up.
Turning her attention to the front of the room, she found the possibility that he might be even a tiny bit nervous very intriguing. It made him as real as the muscles she’d felt on his abdomen, and the spark of attraction she’d felt between them.
Violet, a diminutive light-skinned woman with purple tinged strands in her close-cropped jet-black hair nudged her arm.
“Didn’t I tell you he was gorgeous?” she whispered low.
Before Sonya could nod in agreement, another poke followed, this time harder.
“Too bad he’s a heartbreaker.”
“Ow, girl!” Sonya exclaimed and jerked her body away so fast that she almost fell off the old iron bar stool. Violet’s comment had piqued her interest about the man, but she wasn’t keen on believing gossip. If she ever got the chance, she would ask him outright.
Trent raised a brow at their antics. His gaze laser-focused on her and by the sudden flutter in her heart, there was no question now that he recognized her.
“Ladies, is there a problem?”
“Are you trying to get us into trouble?” Sonya hissed out of the corner of her mouth.
She wanted to slide like a cartoon character straight to the woodshop floor with embarrassment.
“No worries,” Violet whispered back. “I got you, girl. Let me handle this.”
Violet raised her hand. “What happened?”
“The other Mr. Waterson couldn’t make it, so I guess you’re stuck with me.” He looked about the room. “Is that okay?”
While heads were nodding, Sonya inched her hand up as he zipped his backpack open.
“Just for tonight?”
“Just for forever,” he replied with a grin that felt like it was meant only for her. “Or rather the twelve weeks that this class will be in session.”
Forever.
What would that feel like, look like, with a guy as handsome as Trent Waterson? The only thing missing was a tool belt around his waist. When he dug around in his bag, brought one out and hooked it on, it was like an invisible genie had heard her secret wish.
Sporadic applause broke out and Sonya lowered her hand. Smiles widened from the windows to the chalkboard, as if he’d just presented them all with sparkling diamond rings.
He’ll cause mass depression if he ever calls in sick.
Sonya glanced around the workshop filled with scary-looking equipment. Her nose twitched, detecting the scent of sawdust and burnt tires. The whitewashed cinderblock walls were smudged in places with something she hoped was dirt. This wasn’t the ideal place for romantic daydreams.
Her eyes shifted to the front of the room where Trent was taking a sheaf of papers out of his backpack.
“Let me tell you a little bit about myself. My brother and I are joint owners of a local construction and real-estate company, and if you mention his name in my classroom, you’ll earn yourself an instant F.”
He sounded as if he was kidding, but Sonya wanted to be sure, so she raised her hand again.
“Mr. Waterson. This is a non-credit course and there are no grades. It is pass or fail.”
He consulted a folder on the desk and frowned. “You’re right. I was mistaken. You’ll simply fail.”
The class fell silent, and though his tone was still lighthearted, she sensed that the rivalry between Trent and his brother was not.
Sonya felt her nerves start to percolate as Trent moved around the room, handing out the syllabus to every woman.
Her anxiety seemed to increase as he got closer and closer to her. When he reached her worktable, he gave one syllabus to Violet and then turned to Sonya.
“Glad you finally found your way.”
His fingertips brushed against hers, and their slight roughness titillated her senses again. Her insides whirled, still in shock that she was even in the same room with him so soon. Their encounter had been brief, but he’d made a lasting impression on her.
As he walked away, she felt dizzy and clasped one hand on the corner of the wooden table to keep from swooning.
Violet leaned over and whispered, “You know him?”
Sonya heard a note of concern in Violet’s tone, which both intrigued and touched her. Having just moved back into town after many years away, she needed a friend, one that cared, but hopefully wasn’t too nosy.
“No, not really,” she responded in a low tone. “I just saw him around on campus.”
Back at the front of the room, Trent placed his massive hands, palms down, on the table.
“Now that I’ve told you a little bit about me, I want to hear about you. Let’s start at the front,” he said, pointing at her.
Sonya smiled inwardly at the chorus of groans among the women, heartened that she wasn’t the only one who hated to talk in front of a group of strangers. Still, she was tickled that he’d chosen her to go first.
“I’m Sonya Young and I grew up in Bay Point. I just moved back about three months ago. I’m a former dancer with the San Francisco Ballet. I’m in the process of opening up a dance studio at the corner of Seascape Drive, right across from the beach.”
She exhaled slowly and hoped the confidence in her voice didn’t sound as forced as it felt inside.
One of the women exclaimed, “Wonderful. My daughter has always wanted to take ballet. Will you have lessons for children?”
Sonya cleared her throat. Though she loved to dance, the ending of her career was still too new, and too raw. She had plenty of savings, so there was no need to rush the opening of the studio. She was also still questioning her decision and needed time to make sure it was right.
“Children and adults. I’m not sure when I’ll be opening. I’m working on launching my studio website, so there will be more details soon.”
If ever, she told herself.
“Oh, it’s unfortunate that’s it’s not open right now,” the woman responded.
“Is that the storefront that’s had the Grand Opening Soon sign in the window for over a month?” asked another woman in the back of the room.
Sonya shifted in her stool and tossed a glance over her shoulder.
“Yes. I plan on opening soon. There’s a lot to do.” The list of tasks, like design and decorating, marketing and advertising left her with knots in her stomach most days. It was so overwhelming that she continually procrastinated on most, or left others half-completed.
Sonya blamed her own fears as the primary reason for the delay. Making the leap from a career in the arts to opening a small business was scary, but she was determined to be successful.
At least now she’d be in control of her own destiny.
“Hurry up, honey, the butts and thighs of Bay Point need you,” Violet chirped.
The room erupted in laughter and there were nods of agreement among the women.
“Hey, I recognize your last name,” a third woman piped up. “Your father owned a jewelry store, didn’t he?”
Sonya’s heart sank at the mention of her dad, who’d owned his store in downtown Bay Point for over twenty-five years. It had been a bone of contention between them ever since she was a little girl. Before she could interject, the woman continued to rain down comments.
“One day it was open, the next day it wasn’t. Odd.”
Sonya ignored the opportunity for an explanation. She felt a tinge of sadness, realizing that anybody who paid attention to the local gossip hounds knew that he’d lost the store due to his gambling debts.
But more than that, she was deeply ashamed of her father. Now that she was back, she realized that her negative feelings still loomed. In the past, she’d been able to work out her frustrations on the stage, but that was no longer an option. If she didn’t deal with them, she wouldn’t be able to move past the pain.
Trent clapped his hands and adjusted his tool belt, drawing all eyes back to the front of the room. Sonya could have kissed him. The only time she liked being the center of attention was when she was on stage.
Every now and then, as each woman introduced herself, Sonya stole glances at Trent. He listened patiently, his arms crossed loosely on his chest, as if he had all the time in the world. When the round-robin was complete, he moved around his worktable.
“Ladies, there are two things you need to be successful in this class. Number one, there’s the quick way to do things and there’s the right way to do things. The latter is always the best and safest choice. Number two, there’s a lot of dangerous equipment in this room, and I don’t want anyone touching it without permission.”
He leaned against the edge of the worktable, which must have been bolted to the floor because it didn’t budge. Beneath his jeans, she imagined tightly muscled thighs and calves. His powerful body radiated strength, drawing her forward in her seat, as if she couldn’t get enough of his words. In truth, she was enjoying the unobstructed view of him.
“During this class, you’re going to work on a large project and a small project,” he continued. “The large project could be at your own home or that of a friend or relative, and the smaller project will be done right here. There’s a list of project ideas in your syllabus that will start your brains turning. Please email me your project proposals by next Friday for approval.”
Violet raised her hand. “How are we going to know what tools we should be using or materials we should be buying for our projects?”
“Why don’t we all go shopping together at the local hardware store?” Sonya suggested amidst the concerned murmurs of the women.
Trent snapped his fingers. “Brilliant idea. Why didn’t I think of it myself?”
“Probably because most men hate to shop,” Sonya mused, and everyone burst out laughing.
Trent cast her an amused grin, and she was relieved that he’d taken her harmless comment in stride. He seemed to be the type of guy who would be patient with her and with everyone. He was easy on the eyes, too, and would provide some much-needed distraction on a weekly basis. Taking the class had been the right decision, and for the first time in a long while, she relaxed.
* * *
Trent locked the door to the workshop. Since his was the last class of the day, he’d been given a key. He wasn’t sure he’d call his first day of teaching a class a success, but at least he’d gotten through it.
He knew the name of the mysterious woman he’d collided with in the coffee shop. He also knew that was where the association would stay. There were a lot of pretty women in the class, which made it even stranger that Steve had shoved his duties on to him.
“On second thought,” Trent muttered under his breath, “it’s better this way.” While Trent preferred to date women who did not live in Bay Point, his brother held the opposite point of view. Steve’s scandalous relationships had gotten the Waterson family named dragged through the rumor mills more times than Trent cared to count.
He slung his backpack over his shoulder. After class, he’d been surrounded by his students, all jostling for attention, that he’d lost sight of Sonya. He wasn’t sure he could wait a week to see her again.
He’d instructed everyone to email him their contact info so he could send out a mass text message and email if he had to cancel class. He’d have Sonya’s info soon enough. What he didn’t know was if she was single.
The class lasted twelve weeks. That was plenty of time to get to know her in a setting that took the pressure off both of them. He felt certain there had to be a rule at the college that he couldn’t date the students he was teaching. The possibility almost made him want to quit, but then there would be practically no chance that he would see her again.
“Unless I decided to take up ballet,” he said to himself.
He’d read about athletes who did ballet as part of their exercise regimen, claiming the results were both physically challenging and therapeutic.
That kind of dancing just wasn’t for him. He was too wired most of the time and preferred to unwind with a cold bottle of beer and a fine woman at his side. The beer was easy to get. The woman? Not so much. Although, he sensed many of the women in his class would have gladly volunteered.
Lifting weights at the gym kept him healthy. Staying away from his brother kept him sane. And dreaming about falling in love with the perfect woman kept him hopeful.
He thought about Sonya, how her eyes had lit up with curiosity when he’d looked at her. He saw a flicker of hope there, too; he didn’t know what it meant, but he aimed to find out. Maybe his search was finally over. Maybe hers was just beginning. All he wanted at that moment was to discover the answers together.
When he reached the garage, he smiled. The sight of his motorcycle spelled freedom in his mind and in his heart. Riding was the ultimate escape. He became one with his bike, revving it up, driving it ever forward, bracing his body against the forces of the elements. He looked forward to every moment he spent on his classic motorcycle, and it was worth every penny he’d spent on it.
He took his black leather jacket out of his backpack and slipped it on. After making sure his backpack was secured, he put the key into the ignition, turned it and revved the engine. The low and raucous sound reverberated off the cement walls and echoed back into his ears. Although there weren’t too many vehicles in that section of the garage, he heard the beeping of an alarm.
He revved the engine a few more times, slipped on his helmet, fastened it and slowly backed out of the parking spot.
He’d parked on the third level of the four-story garage and was rounding the curve toward the second level when his stomach rumbled. He planned to grab a bite to eat and then take the Pacific Coast Highway to his home just outside of town.
His heart flapped like a caged bird in his chest when he spotted Sonya waving her arms above her head. While she didn’t appear to be hurt, she did need some kind of help and he was eager to assist.
He rode up alongside her and put his feet down on the pavement, stopping the cycle.
“What’s the trouble?”
There was little chance of her recognizing him with the flap down on his helmet, and when he spoke his words were slightly muffled.
She cupped her hand behind her ear. “What? I can’t hear you.”
He unbuckled the strap of his helmet and lifted it off his head.
“And you thought you’d never see me again.”
Her eyes widened. “Hiding again, Mr. Waterson?”
“What do you mean?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “You never told me you were a teacher when I spilled coffee all over you.”
“How could I? I didn’t know you were going to be my student.”
He revved his engine by habit, and she clapped her hands over her ears.
“Don’t you like motorcycles?”
She shook her head and frowned. “Not particularly.”
Trent looked behind him and saw a car turning the corner and heading his way. He pedaled the cycle out of the way and turned off the engine.
“Why not?”
She dropped her hands to her sides.
“They’re dangerous and loud, and the guys who ride them are usually trouble.”
He laughed. “They are only dangerous in the wrong hands.”
“I’m glad we agree on something.”
“You think I’m trouble, huh?”
Sonya edged out a smile. “You could be.”
“Thank you. I take that as a compliment. Now, what seems to be the trouble?”
She pointed to a little red convertible. “My car won’t start.”
He hopped off his bike and whistled. “She’s a beauty, and I’m not just talking about the car.
“That’s a pretty rare model, dating back to the late 1960s, correct? How do you happen to own one?”
“My father gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday.”
“Very nice.”
He heard the pride in her voice and it pleased him. It wasn’t often that he met a woman who had an interest in cars, other than as a way of getting from point A to point B.
“It was a bribe to try and get me to major in business administration in college.”
“From the look on your face, I’m gathering it didn’t work.”
“No, I majored in dance and enjoyed every minute of it.”
“The color suits you.”
“Thank you, I just wish it would start.”
“Did you call for a tow?”
She shook her head. “No. My phone is dead and besides, this requires a flatbed truck.”
“Hand over the keys and let me try.”
She turned toward her tiny car and then back, sizing him up. “Are you sure you’ll fit?”
A smile crossed his lips. “Worth a try, isn’t it?”
She gave him a keychain that had a miniature cable car dangling from it. By the weight of it, he could tell it was pure silver.
“Okay. Give it a shot.”
He opened the door and sat down, but his long legs wouldn’t fit. “Snug.”
“You might want to adjust the seat.”
“Right.”
He pushed the seat back as far as it would go. His knees were still cramped, but the fit of his six-foot-two frame was much better. He depressed the clutch with his right foot, stuck the key in the ignition and turned.
“Not even a click,” Trent muttered.
“Told you so,” she said, and couldn’t help giggling. “Would you do me a favor and call for a flatbed tow?”
“I know just the guy for the job.”
He tugged his phone out of his jacket pocket and put it to his ear.
“How soon can he be here?” she asked after he ended the call.
“Five or ten minutes. He’s already in the area.”
He got out of her vehicle and dropped the keys into her upturned palm.
“After he’s done, I’ll be happy to give you a ride home.”
She gave him a wary look. “On that thing?”
Trent patted the seat. “Hey, you’re talking about my best friend. Don’t worry. We’ll both treat you with the utmost care.”
A grateful smile crossed her face, but her eyes were still distrustful. “Thanks, but I’m not sure I’ll feel safe on a motorcycle. I’ve never ridden on one before.”
Trent felt his heart pound against his chest, and he wondered why he felt a sudden need to change her mind. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have cared. Why Sonya?
“I carry around a spare helmet, just for special occasions like these.”
“Special?”
“Yes. It’s not often I’m in the position to offer a trade.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ride for ride. I give you a ride home on my sexy bike and you take me for a ride in your sexy convertible.”
She paused and seemed to consider his offer. “Promise you won’t go too fast?”
He held out his hand. “Deal. Let’s shake on it.”
Sonya took it, and he loosened up a little on his powerful grip so he wouldn’t hurt her. He wished he didn’t have to let go of her hand, but he did.
The tow truck arrived, and Trent helped the driver load up her car. When they were alone again, he opened up the case strapped to the back of his cycle that held two full-faced helmets. He picked up the spare and held it out to her.
“Go ahead, try it on. You’re actually the first person to wear it.”
“The fit is snug,” she said. Her voice sounded muffled and a little bit fearful behind the visor. “Like it was made for me.” Her hands trembled as she tried to fasten the strap underneath her chin.
“Allow me.”
He fastened the strap and then flipped open the clear plastic visor.
“Your eyes are lovely, so to protect them from the wind and dust, be sure to put this back down again before we take off.”
She nodded and gripped his wrist. “What do I do now?”
He glanced back at her and grinned. “Climb aboard, hold on and don’t let go.”
She hesitated for a few moments, and he could almost see the wheels of decision turning in her brain. He wondered if she was a risk-taker, or was she one of those women who questioned everything?
When she settled in behind him and held on tight, he breathed an audible sigh of relief. A smile of triumph crossed his face, and he allowed himself to hope, after the ride was over, that he would see her again.
