“Please, Trent, give me time. I want you so much, and I want us both to be happy.”
When he knew he could handle it without breaking down, he gazed into her eyes. He knew she was being sincere, despite her fear. He also knew that she was worth the wait, no matter how long it took.
Chapter 9
Sonya hummed as she swished a dust broom over the newly polished wood floor of her dance studio. There were a million things she’d rather do besides clean, but when she was done, she always felt a sense of satisfaction. Soon, Trent would arrive for a visit, and he would be the first person in the space, besides various contractors.
When she was done sweeping, she stowed the broom in the closet and glanced around with a sense of pride.
It really is a beautiful space.
She was glad she had been able to purchase the historic building downtown. The selling point was a series of windows that spanned the entire top half of the building with a beautiful view of the ocean.
Yet every time she thought about opening the doors to the public, she broke out in a cold sweat. Her plan was to offer lessons for children first, and then later on, adults.
She had fond memories of donning glittery costumes for the recitals her former teacher had had twice a year in the winter and the spring.
She was planning to do the same thing, and from her research, they were a lot more complicated to run than she’d imagined. She’d need an army of parents to volunteer, fund-raising and most importantly, a building with a stage.
She moved into a cross-legged position on the floor and brought her arm up and around her head and stretched.
Her body was tense from anxiety and lack of sleep. Last night, Nelda had called her to apologize again for not telling her the bad news. It would have been easy to stay angry, but it wouldn’t have done any good, nor would it have changed the circumstances.
She’d nearly fainted when her aunt told her how much she owed the bank. She’d spent much of the night racking her brain, trying to figure out a way to get the cash. Short of taking out a loan, it was impossible.
The circumstances were dire, but Sonya believed there was a greater purpose in everything good or bad that happened to her. If she hadn’t come home to Bay Point, she wouldn’t have met Trent. He was the kindest, sexiest and most thrilling man she had ever met. That was reason enough not to stay angry with her aunt.
She bent forward and stretched toward the mirror, as if she were trying to grab her life back with her hands.
Still, the situation she faced worried her. She didn’t want to live in an apartment, luxury or otherwise. She wanted her own space, her home with room to roam. After the big-ticket items were taken care of, like the new roof and new windows that Trent had recommended, she planned to redecorate the family home, room by room.
As for the hundreds of acres of land, she had a wild idea of starting a winery. If she ever got tired of teaching dance, at least she’d have a fallback plan. She had no idea how many grapes it took to make wine, and with her limited funds, she would have to start small, but it made her less anxious to think about options for her future.
But her first priority was the house, and making it a sanctuary, for as long as she was blessed enough to live there.
In a way, it already was.
The memories she and Trent had created there over the past few months could last a long time, if she wanted. He would come over at least three times a week, after work, and spend most Saturdays with her. Sometimes, they would go for a drive along the coast, and stop for dinner at a romantic restaurant.
They’d spent hours talking with their arms entwined around one other. Though it was difficult at first, she found herself opening up to him more and more. He was so gentle with her, so patient, and it amazed them both that they’d never met before. But she supposed it was because they were part of two different social circles. His family was corporate, big business and her family was more mom-and-pop shop.
She and Trent were both hardworking and ambitious, but they also knew that downtime and relaxation were important. That was part of their common ground, not to mention their sexual attraction to each other. She just enjoyed being with him, no matter what they were doing.
Sonya stretched toward the window, bent over and touched her toes. “If we lose the house, I guess I could always squat here.”
Even though she was extremely fond of Trent, he was one reason why she wasn’t sure she could stay in Bay Point permanently. After he’d professed his love for her, she knew he had been very hurt when she couldn’t say the words back. She didn’t know why she’d fallen silent, and couldn’t tell him how she felt.’
Her heart stirred whenever he looked at her, kissed her, touched her. Maybe it was because sometimes she got the feeling that there was something he wasn’t telling her.
She’d read in the newspapers that his family, though wealthy, weren’t the most popular people in town. People who had lived in Bay Point since childhood had a hard time affording their homes. Most were sold to newcomers who had no prior connection to the town, and others to people who wanted a second home close to the ocean.
It was revealed that the home repair classes that Trent was teaching were a means to appease the negative sentiment. As far as she’d heard, it wasn’t working.
What could he have to hide? she wondered.
Most humans didn’t get through life without a little bit of dirty laundry. Trent had a habit of leaving his clothes on the floor, but he always picked them up when she reminded him. She only hoped that she could handle whatever secret he was holding inside.
Other than his attachment to his vintage motorcycle collection, Trent didn’t seem to be overly materialistic. He was probably the most content, relaxed man she’d ever met. And she had the sense it wasn’t because he never had to worry about money—it was just who he was.
She pushed her doubts away for the moment and braced her elbows on her knees. She ignored her reflection and concentrated on the long box that held the barres in front of her. It was the final and most important part of the studio, and she’d been trying to drum up the courage to get it installed for over a month.
Everything else was done. A long mirror opposite the windows had been installed, so that her students could monitor their ballet positions for accuracy. There were benches, lockers and mirrors in the changing room. She’d had the toilets replaced with ones that actually worked. The entire place had been painted.
She thought about her conversation with Trent, and how she’d revealed her fear that teaching would not be enough to fulfill her. Since leaving the professional dance world, the need to perform had not gone away like she’d thought it would. Her only comfort was that her feelings were not unusual. Professional athletes who tried to retire often took up a different sport, just to remain active and in the limelight.
Many times, she’d thought about confessing her feelings to her former colleagues. The ones who had begged her not to quit had remained her friends. Those who were silently applauding the prospect that her spot would open up, allowing them the chance to step into her place, were not.
Trent had listened and not judged her, and she valued his open perspective. He simply wanted her to be happy, no matter what she was doing.
She heard the roar of the motorcycle below and went to the window. By now, she recognized the raucous sound, though she’d refused his many offers for another ride. He teased her constantly about it, but she didn’t mind. She enjoyed their easy banter, and would always tell him that she would join him again, someday. She never told him how hot it made her to watch him roll up to her house on his cycle.
From the doorway, she watched him bound up the stairs to her, toolbox in hand. Despite his heavy construction boots, there was a spring in his step and a smile on his face. He was like a kid coming home after being outside all day. She tried to tell herself that his
joy was because of his work, but now she knew that it was because he loved her.
He loves me, and I love him. But she couldn’t tell him. Not yet.
He put down the toolbox and tried to swoop her into his arms. She put her hands on his chest. “Not so fast, buddy. Those come off.”
“The clothes?” he asked. “I don’t have a problem with that.” He started to unbutton his shirt, and she laughed, pointing to a long bench just inside the studio door.
“No, the shoes, silly. Socks or bare feet only on the studio floor.”
He plopped down and removed the offenders, a sulk on his face that was well played. He reached for her hand and pulled her onto his lap. The passionate kiss he gave her was no act, and she felt it all the way to her toes.
In a way, she was relieved that he had even shown up. It meant that he was being true to his word, and giving her time to explore her own feelings about him and the future of their relationship.
He picked her up and walked into the studio, and the sight of the two of them in the mirror almost brought tears to her eyes. They looked like a couple of lovesick teenagers. She’d be a fool to let him go.
Her mouth sought his and she gave him a lingering kiss. When they parted, he let out a low whistle and she slid to the floor. Her legs felt like they were made of jelly.
“Thank you for coming here, Trent.”
“No worries. I wish I could stay all day, but I’ve only got an hour before I have to be at the job site.”
She pointed to the box on the floor. “The barres are in there, five of them. I hope the installers left room between each mirror.
Trent crouched down and opened the box. He pulled out the barres, plus all the associated hardware.
She watched as he stood up and measured the width of the mirror, and then did the same for the barres.
“We should be okay. I’ll just power up my drill and have these installed in a jiffy.”
She bit her lip and hoped he couldn’t tell she was anxious about the installation.
He glanced over and gave her a quick hug. “Stop worrying, okay? Go do something and I’ll call you when I’m done.”
Sonya trudged into her little office. She reviewed proofs for her signage to the sound of Trent’s drill. As much as she loved him in her home, she found that she didn’t mind him in the studio, either. Again, he brought a sense of calm in the midst of her doubt and whirlwind emotions. She was starting to rely on him more and more, and that part frightened her.
She emailed her comments to the designer and then picked up her phone to call her aunt.
Her brow furrowed when there was no answer, so she left a voice mail for the second time that day.
Nelda had served as general manager and bookkeeper at the jewelry store. Now that the store was closed, she kept busy volunteering for several non-profit organizations in town.
Although she’d sunk most of her savings into trying to save the store, her investments were sound and were being used for her living expenses. Sonya completely understood why she was resistant to liquidating those funds to pay off another set of her deceased brother’s loans.
Sonya had visited a lawyer several days ago to see if there was anything she could do to save the family home. He’d confirmed that she could use the studio as collateral to save her home, but cautioned her about the risk. She knew her aunt would agree with the lawyer’s warning.
The problem was that her aunt didn’t know about the appointment, and now she felt guilty about it. She wanted to tell her right away, but she couldn’t get her on the phone, and Nelda refused to text.
Trent appeared in the doorway. “All finished. Want to check it out?”
She popped out of her chair and walked into the studio. The barres were up and in perfect alignment with each other. The floor was free from drywall dust. Other than signage for the front door, everything on her list was done. She could open for business whenever she was ready.
Now, all she had to do was get past the fear that teaching would completely replace her need to perform, and she’d be all set.
“Great job, Trent. Thank you!”
He pulled her into his arms. “I’m glad you’re happy. I strive to satisfy.”
She gave him a hug. “And you do satisfy me, more than I could have ever dreamed.”
She felt her desire for him stir. His hard body felt so good against hers that she wished she didn’t have to let him go. But they both had to get back to work.
“I almost forgot. I brought something for you.”
Her heart melted at his gesture. Even though they’d been dating for a few months, he never failed to bring her a little gesture of his affection whenever they spent time together.
He unwrapped a napkin and pulled out a daisy chain. He gave her a sheepish smile and threaded it into her hair.
“It’s a little crushed, but all the petals are still there.”
“You mean I can still play he loves me, he loves me not?”
His eyes darkened at her words. “You don’t have to play games. You know how I feel about you. The problem is I don’t know how you feel about me.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You said you would give me time.”
He nodded, and she was relieved. “I know, and I’ll still honor my word. But in the meantime, I want you to come to dinner tonight and meet my family.”
Though she agreed without hesitation, internally she wasn’t sure that meeting his parents and brother was a good idea.
* * *
Trent walked into the spacious kitchen juggling three apples in the air. His mother leaned her hip against the granite countertop and watched in mock amusement.
He caught all three safely and with a satisfied grin on his face, handed each one to her to wash.
“That was quite an entrance,” she remarked. “I haven’t seen you do that in years. It couldn’t be because I’m making my famous Waldorf salad.”
He kissed her on the cheek. “I just wanted to entertain you.”
“Bah!” Agnes laughed. She shooed him away with her hands. “It’s that woman you’re seeing. You must be pretty serious about her to invite her to dinner, not that I’m complaining. I’ve been waiting forever for you to find a wife.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whoa! Hold on, Mom. I never said anything about marriage.”
“Bah!” She handed him the washed apples. “It’s time, Trent. You and your brother both need to settle down. Maybe then you’ll stop being at each other’s throats all the time.”
He kept his eyes on the knife as he diced. “Steve is still sore at me about Violet. He lost her because he was more devoted to the almighty dollar than to her.”
Agnes frowned. “He loves Waterson Builders, almost as much as his father, which might not be a good thing.”
Trent handed her the bowl of apples. “What do you mean?”
“At first, the empty plate at the dinner table was your father, now it’s you and your brother.”
She waved a spoon in the air. “I guess we all work too much. We have to find a way back to what matters. A wedding is just the thing to give us all a kick in the pants to refocus on love and family.”
“Don’t go sending the invitations yet, Mom. I don’t know how she feels about me.”
She wrinkled her nose, as if offended. “Who wouldn’t love any son of mine?”
Agnes retrieved two bottles of wine, red and white, from the pantry and set them on the counter.
“I don’t know about Steve, but I’m the perfect catch for any woman,” he joked.
There is only one woman for me.
He grabbed the corkscrew, and his hands shook a little as he opened the wine. He didn’t tell his mother, but he was crazy nervous about the evening ahead. It had to go right. His family could be a little overbearing for most people.
; “Of course, you are,” Agnes affirmed. “And if Sonya doesn’t see it, then she’s a fool. I sincerely can’t wait to meet her.”
She gave him a warm smile and a pat on the cheek. “No pressure.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he replied in a dry tone. “Just don’t mention the M word, okay? I don’t want her to run out on me.”
“I promise.” She winked. “And if I happen to slip up, I get the feeling you’ll run right after her.”
Trent smiled, and picked up three oranges from the basket on the counter to juggle his jitters away.
With much affection, he thought, Why does my mother always have to be right? He knew in his heart that he’d run after Sonya until he caught her, no matter how long it took.
* * *
Sonya eyed the expansive two-story colonial-style estate as she walked up to the door. It appeared to have more rooms than she would ever care to clean, and made her thankful for her home, which was more manageable.
Her home.
She always had to stop herself when she said or thought those words, because the house wasn’t really hers. It belonged to her aunt, and technically the bank, which was worse because they had the power to take it away from both of them.
Sometimes she wished she were the type of person who could just live with a backpack and a tent as their sole possessions. But she loved taking hot showers, warm bubble baths and having a comfy bed to make love to Trent in.
She smoothed her hand over her pale blue linen suit. Even though she’d had the garment dry-cleaned, she’d forgotten how easily the fabric wrinkled, but wearing it made her feel more in control. On top of an empty belly full of nerves and the fact that she was ten minutes late for dinner, she wanted to turn around and get back in the car.
The door opened before she could even press the bell, and she felt herself being swooped off her feet.
Trent set her down and planted kisses all over her face.
Winning Her Forever Page 11
