by Zee Monodee
“Deal.” But then, Josh’s smile died. “It’th my fault he’th thick.”
“Because of the sand?”
Josh slowly nodded.
The doctor gave a small laugh. “Josh, sand cannot make him sick. Otherwise, Matthew would be sick every night when the sandman comes to sprinkle magic dream sand on him.”
The little boy’s eyes grew big. “You thure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Now, will you look after your brother?”
“Uh-huh,” Josh replied with a vigorous nod.
“Good,” the doctor added, before ruffling Josh’s hair and standing up.
A nurse joined them. “Mr. Garrison, you can take Matthew home now.”
Trent had been absorbed in the exchange between Josh and the other man. Startled, he recovered and shook his head. “Thank you. Where is he?”
“In a room at the front. I’ll show you.”
“Go get him,” Diya said. “I’ll bring the car to the entrance. Josh, sweetie, come with me.”
“The bill?” he said.
“Don’t worry. It’s been settled,” she said.
She was leaving the room when he caught her hand, and surprise painted itself on her features when she twisted around to face him.
*
Diya spun when the warm, strongly male hand closed over her wrist. She risked a startled glance at Trent’s face, to then train her focus to where he touched her. The heat from his palm filtered into her arm. Yet, she stood frozen.
She glimpsed back up, into his face. What is going on here? In the blink of an eye, everything seemed to have changed.
Lines had appeared on his forehead, his features drawn and pale. But his eyes held an intense light, and the warmth in them took her aback.
Trent Garrison’s grey eyes had always peered at her with ice in them. She was unprepared for the assault on her mind when the softness of this look washed over her. A quiver thrummed in her chest, tingles shot up from her fingers, and a lump lodged itself in her throat while her mouth went dry.
She parted her lips to speak, but no sound escaped her. Only a small, husky breath.
“Thank you, Diya.”
She’d never heard him say her name before. Not like this, anyway. His voice rumbled deep and ragged at the edges. The phrase came out thick with the emotions echoed in the depths of his deep-set eyes …
Something, or someone, tugged on her jeans.
“Can we go now?” a little voice asked.
Startled out of her thoughts, she shook the unreal, dream-like sensation as she emerged from the mist she’d been plunged in by the touch of his skin on hers.
Trent’s touch.
He released her hand, and she bent to scoop Josh in her arms.
“Let’s go, sweetie. I hate hospitals. I’ll meet you at the gate,” she said in Trent’s direction as she left the room.
Discomfited by the strange turn of events back in the waiting room, Diya quickened her steps as she hurried towards the parking lot at the side of the building.
With every step she took, Josh’s head got heavier on her shoulder, and the boy had fallen asleep by the time she reached her truck. She unlocked the door with a press of the button on her key fob and gently settled the sleeping child into the back seat.
After she’d closed the door with a soft click when she’d finished securing the seat belt around Josh, a heavy feeling, very akin to tenderness, shrouded her as she watched the child through the window. Shrugging it off as a delayed adrenaline crash from all the emotions of the past few hours, she climbed into the driver’s seat and drove towards the front entrance.
Trent waited with a sleeping Matthew in his arms. She braked in front of them and opened the back door.
He settled the boy on the seat next to Josh and was about to climb in, too, when she startled herself by telling him to stop. He peered at her with a puzzled frown on his weary face.
Her cheeks flamed, the burn stinging her skin and making her glad for the darkness inside the vehicle.
“I mean, it’s not safe for you to hold him while I drive. I understand you were worried on the way here, but he’s okay now. Buckle him up, then come in front.”
He paused, as if pondering her suggestion, before he secured the sleeping child and closed the door. And then, he was beside her. His hand brushed hers on the gear stick as he clicked his seat belt in its buckle.
“You don’t wear yours?”
As another flush seared through her, she scrambled around to pull the strap across her body.
“I tend to forget,” she replied with a sheepish grin.
“You shouldn’t. It’s not safe.”
“Can we go now?” she asked when his intense eyes remained on her and more heat suffused her face.
“Of course.”
They’d driven nearly half of the way to Tamarin when he broke the silence.
“I don’t know what we’d have done today if it weren’t for you.”
“It’s nothing. I was just helping, is all.”
No big deal. Her parents had always instilled in their daughters to assist anyone who might need their help. It always tore at her heart to imagine people suffering, especially young, helpless children.
“I can’t believe you’d arranged for everything,” Trent said, nearly in a whisper.
She darted a quick glance at him. “I knew you wouldn’t be thinking of all that in your state. Just my way of lending a hand.”
He nodded slowly, his face never veering away from the windshield. “I’ll pay you back for the bill.”
“Pfft. No worries. It was nothing, really.”
She might not be rolling about in the moolah, but she could let this pass. It seemed a teeny bit miserly and of bad taste to go chase after money in such a situation, though she’d have no qualms doing it for example when a client refused to honour their bill.
“Still,” he said.
She shrugged. “If you insist.”
Silence settled after this exchange.
After a few minutes, he broke it. “How come you’re driving slowly?”
“There are children back there. I’m not that irresponsible.”
“Oh.”
She refrained from laughing when she heard the word. It carried a quirky acceptance after initial disbelief.
Matthew moaned in the back, and Trent turned his way. She took a peek in the mirror, to note the boy had gone back to sleep. She then risked another glance at her neighbour and caught the clenched set of his jaw.
“Eric is a very good paediatrician. Matthew’s in good hands with him.”
He moved his attention back onto her before slowly acquiescing. “Thanks for getting him to speak to Josh. You don’t know what it’s meant to the kid.”
“It’s nothing.”
He remained silent, before taking a sharp breath.
“So, what’s between you and Doctor Charming?”
A chuckle escaped her. “Doctor Charming?”
“Doctor Marivaux. You seemed quite close.”
He let the words trail, and strangely, Diya didn’t feel annoyed by the comment. A fleeting—and absurd—notion flitted through her mind as she peeked at Trent.
Was it jealousy she’d heard in his voice?
She couldn’t resist the opportunity and gave in to the reply tickling the back of her throat.
“What is it to you?” she asked in a playful tone.
She wanted to see if he’d squirm under the question. Pleasure coursed through her on an elated buzz when he looked away. Her question had hit home. Unbelievable.
She threw her head back and laughed a hearty chortle. Maybe she shouldn’t draw out the torture.
“Eric is my sister’s husband. There’s nothing but abiding friendship and brotherly love between us.”
The fondness in her tone must have been tangible, because he faced her again.
The smile on his lips—an oh-so-rare sight—captivated her. He was absolutely ravishing when he smiled. Thank
goodness for empty roads, because for a moment there, she totally forgot about focusing out the windshield at the path she drove on.
“You seem to like him a lot.”
Was there some hidden question in the words?
“I do,” she said without hesitation.
And that was the truth.
“What he’s done for my sister,” she added after a pause. “Only an ideal man would do so. He’s lit her world and brought her everything her heart’s ever craved.”
He chuckled softly, and surprise zinged through her insides. The sound was strangely soothing. Beautiful. Somehow, she didn’t think laughter and Trent Garrison were even acquainted.
“What?” she asked. Why had he laughed?
“You hold him in high esteem,” he said. “Searching for the same thing for you?”
She paused and pondered over his question, her eyes riveted on some distant point across the windshield.
When they reached the closed gate of their flat complex, she stopped the truck.
Silence rang heavy, the only sound the steady breaths of the children in the back seat, until she faced him.
“Yes, I am searching for my ideal man.”
She bit her lip, wondering if she should go on with the confession.
“When, or rather, if, I ever get married, it’ll be to a man who can do for me what Eric’s done for Lara.”
Chapter Six
Diya stopped before the door to Trent’s flat.
What was she doing here? Eight-thirty was an ungodly time to ring the doorbell, especially after the turbulent night they’d had with Matthew. But she wanted to know how the boy had spent the last few hours, and since she didn’t have Trent’s number, having dealt directly with his car rental company after the accident, she had to inquire in person.
Instead of provoking a shrill noise by ringing the chime, she knocked softly. Her knuckles barely grazed the wooden door, and she didn’t even hear any sound. Was this half-hearted gesture her mind’s way of warning her to back away?
Oh, no, she’d see this through. She wouldn’t be able to concentrate if she kept thinking of Matthew throughout the day.
A jittery part of her heart still jumped with jubilation when no one answered after three raps. She might not have to face him, after all. The memory of Trent’s touch flashed in all its vivid intensity in her mind, making her squirm with the remembrance of the heated and troubling response she’d had back then at the clinic.
How exactly would she react when she faced him again? She’d also seen a new man the day before, and his seeming so human had unsettled her. Where was the savage, the one she’d grown used to dealing with? Gone?
Trent Garrison, the oaf, was a match for her, but Trent Garrison, the caring father and man beneath, was another matter, a disturbing and terribly unusual predicament. This discovery had tilted her world on its axis, and she reeled.
The door opened, and in front of her stood the object of her turmoil. His dark hair was tousled, as if he’d just tumbled out of bed, wavy locks brushing his wide forehead. Stubble lent a shadow to his cheeks, and the contrast with his lightly tanned skin emphasized his chiselled features. He’d tugged on a pair of chinos and had managed only three buttons on his crumpled cotton shirt.
The top of the garment bared his broad chest, and the light sprinkling of dark hair there mesmerized her. In the shadow of the opened doorway, his skin gleamed with a rich, bronze hue, and she gulped back, wondering if the hair-smattered surface was actually as warm as it seemed to be. Maybe if she reached out and ran her fingers over him, she’d know—
“Hey.” His deep voice had an unusual cheeriness to it. “I didn’t expect to see you this early.”
Diya snapped back to the present. As she pushed her wayward thoughts into a logical pattern, a hot blush suffused her cheeks.
She’d wanted to seduce her neighbour right there and then. A man she loathed, held in contempt, and suddenly burned for with a vengeance. What was wrong with her?
“Um, is this a bad time?” Her voice came out low, husky, and slightly querulous. She cleared her throat, striving for her tone to sound normal. “I wanted to see if Matthew was okay before I left—”
“Daddy, I wanna go!”
Trent moved out of the doorway.
“Come on in,” he said with a deep sigh that appeared to convey extreme discouragement.
Bad timing.
“Actually, I have to go—”
She doubted Trent and his departing back had heard her, though.
Goodness gracious, no way out. Maybe she could turn around and leave? No, that would be rude. And she was made of sterner stuff, wasn’t she? So, she took a deep breath and walked in, closing the door behind her.
Exactly as she’d imagined. The flat reflected the mirror image of hers. Except for the mess and the clutter all around.
A quick glance told her this place boasted no feminine presence. Clothes lay haphazardly stacked everywhere, and cardboard boxes from the move littered the floor. The open-plan kitchen bordering the living room could pass for a war-ravaged zone. Come to think of it, the whole place looked like it had recently been bombed out. And there weren’t any proper curtains, just pieces of fabric folded or, worse, tossed onto the rods to shield the windows. The corridor next to the kitchen and leading to the rooms and bathroom beckoned like a dark alley of unknown dangers, judging by the boxes and toys cluttering its three-foot width.
In the middle of the chaos, Trent and Josh stood on the white marble of the living room in front of a black leather sofa set.
“Josh, make less noise. Matthew is asleep.” Trent’s voice sounded weary, his tone oddly hassled.
“I wanna go!” Josh stomped his foot.
A chill snuck up her spine. What had she gotten into? Josh seemed all poised for a duel à la Far West while Trent appeared … oddly defeated. His shoulders sagged, as if a crushing weight pressed down his tall frame.
Intimate family moment. Awkward.
“Diya, make him understand, please. I know he’ll listen to you.”
Trent’s voice got her to shake away the discomfort. And he’d asked her for help? Even saying “please?” Who was this bloke? She sure didn’t know him.
“Make who understand what?” she asked.
“There’th the thchool outing today, and Daddy won’t let me go,” Josh said in a nasal whine.
Trent kneeled in front of the little boy. “I cannot leave Matthew alone to drop you to school. Didn’t you promise the doctor you’d look after your brother?”
She frowned at the exchange. “Can’t their babysitter drop Josh off? It’s usually her job to take them to school, innit? She’s not here yet?”
Alarm coursed through her when Trent sagged to a sitting position on the floor, his broad back against the sofa, his hands coming up to cover his face.
After pressing his fingers to his temples, he glanced up. “I fired her this morning.”
“Why?”
“She took the boys to the beach yesterday and left a wet T-shirt on Matthew.” He paused. “That’s why he got sick.”
“But she knows he has asthma, right?”
And anyone knew you shouldn’t leave wet clothing on anyone’s back, let alone children, especially in the shifty period when seasons changed into winter on the island.
He nodded.
Breathing softly, she willed the anger inside her to remain contained. How could the woman have been so inconsiderate? She shuddered. “Good thing you’re rid of her.”
He gave a small, forced smile. “Only now, I don’t have anyone to take care of the children, and I can’t take time off work indefinitely.”
“Daddy, I wanna go to thchool today!”
Trent ran his hand through his hair, and the helplessness in the gesture tugged at a heartstring in her.
Had he always been such a nice and sympathetic man underneath his rudeness?
Josh started to cry. Trent tried to embrace the boy, but Josh shrugg
ed him away.
At the hurt on Trent’s face, and the way he let his body sag against the sofa behind him, it took all her resolve to remain where she stood and not run to his side and hug them both.
Her heart clutched, and she balled her fists. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the deeply emotional longing from her. She should be helping out in concrete ways. Her swelling heart wouldn’t be of much aid.
“Where’s your school?” she asked Josh.
The little boy was sobbing too much to answer, so his father replied. “It’s the Mandrake Academy.”
“The one near Fairmont Villas?”
“Yes. Why?”
An idea formed in her mind. “I can drop him off. It’s on my way to the office.”
“Thanks, but no. I can’t ask this of you. It’s not fair.”
His voice came out firm, laced with a deep pride sounding more like respect than arrogance.
“Come on, it’s no problem at all. Like I said, it’s on my way.”
“Yeth, Daddy. Pleeeeeathe.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll drive at a normal pace,” she said.
Trent lifted his gaze to her, and she gave him a wry smile. As she kept up with his stare, he caught the message and smiled, too.
How could a simple curve of his mouth effect such a profound change to his features? The corners of his eyes crinkled, and a dimple appeared in his left cheek.
“I think I can trust you,” he said softly, his eyes never once leaving hers.
Her mouth went dry, and she tried to conceal her gulp. The warmth and the heat in his irises raged millions of miles from the calm in his voice. She didn’t trust herself to reply, not when she doubted her ability to form a coherent word.
Tension quivered in the air, and she could visualize the thread that built up and tied itself between the two of them.
Suddenly, they weren’t two allergic-to-each-other people, but two understanding and consenting adults.
Somehow, she liked that. But at the same time, the prospect scared the hell out of her.
