by Sarah Monzon
She sat at a small bistro table and plugged her earbuds into her phone, bringing up her playlist and clicking on “Rolling in the Deep.” Her fingernails tapped the beat on her thigh, and she closed her eyes and let out a breath, willing her stress out with it.
The light behind her lids dimmed, and she opened them and looked toward the window, expecting to see a cloud that had momentarily covered the sun. Her vision slammed into a large belt buckle, a tucked-in white shirt framed by a familiar black leather jacket. Her eyes lifted to meet the cocked grin that had become so endearing.
“Fancy meeting you here.” Trent dragged out the chair across from her and fell into it.
She pulled the earbuds out of her ears, silencing Adele. “What are you doing in Fort Lauderdale?”
He leaned back and crossed an ankle over the opposite knee. “Wooing you.”
An eyebrow rose high on her forehead. “Excuse me?”
“Wooing. You know, to romantically pursue someone.” He leaned forward and placed a hand over her forearm. “Or in my case, to prove to you that I am trustworthy of your heart.” The tip of his finger drew lazy circles over her skin. “No matter what you may think, this isn’t a game to me, Summer.”
She tugged her arm out from under his palm and placed it in her lap. “Trent—”
He flashed another smile, this one not quite as bright. “I’m also here doing some research at the university. I’ve sent the necklace back to the Bahamas with the shipwreck’s coordinates. The government is going to take over salvaging the remains. They promised to keep me apprised of their findings.”
“You aren’t going to be a part of the salvaging process? Even though you’re the one who discovered the ship?” She played with the protective cardboard sleeve around her cup. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
His blue eyes twinkled. “Defending this dastardly pirate now, hmm?”
“Aye, matey.” A smile played on her lips. “Do you think they’ll find any gold or other treasure?”
“I don’t know. It depends a lot on what kind of ship it was and where it had been heading.”
“Is that what you’ve been researching?”
“Some. Mostly I’ve been digging around trying to see if I can’t find any information on the necklace. A piece of jewelry like that must have a history to it. I wouldn’t be surprised if a record of it shows up somewhere.” He tilted his head. “What about you? Heard from Tabitha Michaels yet?”
A gurgle turned her stomach. It’d only been a couple of days, but the suspense of not knowing was killing her. “Not yet.”
“I’m sure you’ll hear something soon.” He looked at his wristwatch. “Have any plans for the rest of the day?”
Besides driving herself crazy with over analyzation and worrying about the future of her career? “Not really.”
Standing, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her up. “Come on. I have something I want to show you.”
She barely managed to grab her drink before being pulled through the doors and down the sidewalk to stand in front of his Harley. Trent dropped his hold on her and extended out a helmet. She eyed the thing, then the latte in her hand. A groan rumbled in her throat. No way did hot coffee and motorcycles go together. Even if she managed to keep ahold of the cup, by the time they got to wherever it was they were going, the drink would be cold.
Trent jiggled the helmet, but she held up a finger. “Just a minute.” Warm vanilla and ground Columbian beans filled her mouth as she took her first and last sip. Then she tossed it in the trash canister. “That was the most expensive two ounces I’ve ever consumed.”
“I’ll buy you another one later, I promise.”
“You better.” She took the helmet and shoved it on her head. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“Do I get to drive again?” Even if he said yes, she wouldn’t dare. The first time had been hard enough, remembering all the steps while his hands were planted on her hips. But it was fun watching him squirm.
“Uh, I think I better drive this time.” He jerked up the kickstand and swung his leg over the leather seat.
Here goes nothing. She gripped his shoulders for balance and mounted behind him. The engine roared, vibration moving up her legs. They drove out of the strip mall’s parking lot and onto the highway.
Summer let her hands fall to his sides and bunched part of his leather jacket in her grip. She looked straight ahead but couldn’t see more than Trent’s broad shoulders, bulky helmet, and a sliver of windshield and road. Not exactly a panoramic view, so she looked to the side. Bad idea. All the trees whizzing by made her dizzy. Anchoring her gaze on his back, she let her mind regain its equilibrium. Another bad idea. She went straight from dizzy to hyperfocused.
Was it possible for a back to be hypnotic? That was what it felt like. Like Trent’s back was beckoning to her, calling her to wrap her arms all the way around his waist, press her body close, and rest her head right between his shoulder blades.
Should she?
Probably not, but… Her palms slid across firm abdominal muscles, and she scooted even closer until her thighs were an outline of his. Time for the logical side of her brain to rest so she could enjoy this blissful moment. Later she could call herself all kinds of fool.
Trent’s hand covered hers for a moment before returning to the handle bars. They slowed, pulled off the road, and stopped.
Grudgingly, Summer disentangled herself and stepped off the motorcycle. She removed the helmet and looked around. Manicured lawn, trails of cement walkways, and a large boxed building right in the center. Even if she hadn’t seen the yellow bus off to the side, there was no way she could’ve missed the school’s massive sign. She looked behind her, head tilted. “You brought me to a high school?”
He leaned against the Harley in that carefree way that drove her nuts. “Yep.”
“Care to tell me why?”
The smile started in his eyes. “I have an interview here tomorrow.”
“Here?” She pointed to the asphalt beneath her feet. “In Fort Lauderdale? At this school?”
The grin reached his lips. “Yep. How else am I going to make you fall in love with me if I can’t work on persuading you every day?”
She ignored the last remark. Tried to ignore the flip in her stomach that the words created. “What about X-marks-the-spot maps and hidden treasures of history? You’re going to give all that up?”
“There’s a story in the Bible about a man who searches and searches for pearls. He travels all over looking for that rare thing of beauty.” Trent’s elbow pushed off the bike, and he sauntered toward her, eyes locked. “And one day he finds it. It’s the most extraordinary pearl he has ever seen in his entire life. He doesn’t discard it, thinking he can find an even better jewel if he keeps looking. You know why?”
She could hardly breathe from the way his gaze held hers, the tenderness that touched his eyes as he waited for her to respond. Slowly she shook her head.
He reached out and rested his hands on her hips. “Because he knows perfection when he sees it.” His thumb lazily grazed the skin on her side where her shirt had ridden up. “So he sells everything he owns and buys that pearl, and he treasures it for the rest of his life.”
Summer closed her eyes, the defenses she’d been repeating since meeting Trent crumbling around her like the war-ridden villages she saw on the nightly news. Only one piece of rubble stubbornly remained. “He doesn’t end up putting the pearl in a box when he thinks it’s become dull and go looking for shiny rubies or diamonds, does he?”
Trent cupped the side of her neck, his thumb stroking her cheek. “He would never do that. He’s only ever really wanted a pearl. That pearl.”
She should take a step back. Allow her mind to think straight with a little bit of space. Remind herself why getting involved with a man like Trent was a bad idea. Instead she leaned into his palm, absorbed the way his touch made her feel. “Is that really in the Bible?”
&n
bsp; “Every word.”
She scrunched her nose but then smiled. “Somehow I doubt the pearl represents a woman the man is trying to—how did you put it?—woo?”
He laughed. “You caught me. The parable was told as a likeness to the kingdom of heaven. I took the liberty of giving it a dual meaning.”
Her mouth formed an O in a look of mock horror. “Sacrilege.”
“Hey, I’m still learning the ropes of this Christian lifestyle.” He tweaked her nose. “Give me some credit.”
It took effort to peel her gaze away from his, but she swept it back over the looming high school. “You’re really going to take a teaching job here? Just to be closer to me?”
He squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t forget about the making you fall in love with me part.”
She shook her head and forced her lips to turn down to portray a pseudo-seriousness even though she wanted to burst out in giggles. “I could never forget that part. And it seems like you have a game plan already in motion.”
“Absolutely.” He held up a finger. “Step one, amaze you with my wit and charm.”
“How’s that going for you?”
“Not as well as I’d hoped, hence the need for step two.” He held up another finger. “Get a job nearby so I can wear you down by my persistent presence.”
“Do you think that will work?”
“Eventually, even if it takes me the rest of my life.”
Summer laughed. “That long, huh?”
“Time well spent, I’d say.”
“Sounds like you’re determined.”
“Nothing could dissuade me.”
No, she didn’t think anything would. More importantly, she didn’t want anything to. Her heart raced. “Might as well start step two now, at least the wearing me down, since you’re in town, don’t you think?”
His eyebrows shot to his hairline before resettling on his face along with his familiar cocked grin. “Brilliant idea. Summer, will you have dinner with me?”
She clutched her chest. “Wow, this is so sudden. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.” Laughter bubbled beneath her palm. “Pick me up at seven.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
The clock on the dashboard read 6:55 as Trent pulled up to the curb outside Summer’s studio. Jake, one of his friends from the university, had given him a hard time when he’d asked to borrow his car. In the end Jake had tossed the key across the room with a laugh.
It had been a spontaneous request, one he’d never bothered with before. But even if he’d told Summer he’d spend the rest of his life proving the sincerity of his feelings, if that was what it took, he’d rather make the best impression on this first date—and that excluded subjecting her to helmet hair.
He reached over and grabbed the bouquet of sunflowers, lying on the passenger’s seat, before exiting the car and loping to Summer’s small porch. The door opened after three knocks, and Trent blinked at the vision before him. Her long hair draped in soft waves, a chunk pulled forward across her shoulder. A navy-blue tunic-type shirt hung past her hips. Long legs peeked from underneath, clad in skinny jeans rolled up at the hem.
He thrust the flowers toward her. “These are for you.”
She took them and smiled. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.” Her back turned as she searched for a vase and filled it with water.
After she set them on the counter, he asked, “Ready to go?”
She grabbed a small handheld purse and preceded him out the door. At the bottom of her stoop, she stopped. “Where’s your motorcycle?”
“I borrowed a friend’s car for the evening.”
Her laugh floated on the breeze. “I should have guessed since you’re without faded ripped pants and leather jacket.”
He looked down at himself. True, the dark denim jeans and light-blue oxford shirt weren’t what he usually wore, but this was a date. “I don’t meet with your approval?”
Green eyes sparkled. “I didn’t say that.”
Warmth surged in his chest and expanded. Something had shifted in Summer. Or rather, in the way she responded to him. In the past she’d reacted in one of two ways. Either distantly argumentative, which was fun and had happened most frequently when they’d first met, or, as occurred more recently, she’d momentarily forget whatever resolution she’d made about him and actually enjoyed their time together, only to later remember and retreat.
He looked down at her as he opened the car door and she slipped in. Tonight she was different. No animosity, no reservation. All twinkles and smiles and laughs and, dare he say it, flirting.
Hope wanted to bubble up like a natural spring of water. He loved this woman with a fierceness he’d never experienced before, and if she was finally admitting to herself her own feelings… Trent tapped a lid on that thought. Running away with dreams of the future would only tempt him to declare things that might scare her and have her retreating like a little rabbit. Besides, there was still a chance her cheery mood had nothing to do with him at all.
He rounded the vehicle and dropped into the driver’s seat, cranking the car and pulling out onto the street. “Heard anything from Tabitha Michael’s yet?”
Her face dimmed. “Not yet.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “I’m trying not to think about it, but that’s proving nearly impossible.”
If she kept contorting her hands like that, they’d end up in the ER for a broken finger before they made it to the restaurant. He slipped his palm in between hers and laced their fingers together, tugging her closer until both their forearms rested on the center console. His thumb slowly stroked the back of her hand.
He sensed her anxiety seeping out of her. “Better?”
“Much.” Her smile was smaller this time, but more peaceful.
Somehow that made his heartbeat quicken even more.
They pulled into the restaurant, and Trent jogged around the car to get to Summer’s door before she opened it. He gave an exaggerated bow. “Milady.”
She chuckled. “You’re a goofball.”
One eye closed in a slow wink before he guided her through the restaurant’s glass doors.
The hostess looked up. “Table for two?”
“In the courtyard please,” Trent said.
She smiled. “No problem.” Menus were produced beneath the podium. “If you’ll follow me.”
They wound around tables and through hushed conversation before being ushered out a back door into a tropical oasis complete with koi pond and a small waterfall at the center and dim twinkling lights roped overhead.
The hostess deposited the menus on top of a small table. “Your server will be right with you.”
They sat down, Summer’s head swiveling as she took it all in. “This place is enchanting.”
Trent smiled. “I’m glad you like it. I’ve never been here before, but it came highly recommended.”
“Let me guess—it’s a favorite among the guys at the university to bring dates.” The edges around her eyes crinkled.
He dipped his chin. “It might have that reputation.”
“I can see why.” The exposed bulbs of the hanging lights cast a warm glow over the stone-paved courtyard. Flowering shrubs enclosed the square in privacy and infused the air with a sweet fragrance, and the small waterfall and light instrumental music transported diners into a world of happily ever afters.
A petite woman with a pixie cut and an apron that ended well past her knees approached the table. “Hi, and welcome to The Courtyard. My name is Sylvie, and I’ll be your server this evening.” She beamed, first at Summer and then Trent, before continuing. “Tonight’s special is the blackened mahi mahi with a strawberry mango salsa served on a bed of cilantro lime rice. And might I suggest a Cabernet Franc as a nice pairing.”
Summer’s eyes rounded. “That sounds delicious, but I’ll have a Coke instead of the wine.”
“Make that two.” Trent closed his menu.
“Very good, sir.” The server took the menus and pivoted on h
er heel.
Leaning her forearms on the table, Summer tilted her head. “So are you really going to give up treasure hunting to be a high school history teacher?”
“Yes and no.”
“Yes and no?”
Matching her posture, he leaned forward conspiratorially. “One of the benefits of teaching is summers off.”
She laughed. “Do you think you’ll enjoy teaching at all, or just bide your time until you can get out there and follow the clues to a new discovery?”
It surprised him how much he looked forward to the school year starting. It had all sounded so dull and monotonous before, a job that lacked adventure, but now he itched to get in the classroom and spark passion for history into the young minds of his students. “You know, your mom said she thought teaching would be fulfilling, and I think she might be right.”
Her head jerked back. “You talked to my mom?”
“Yeah. That’s how I got the information about Dave Landstrom.”
“That’s right.” She opened her mouth to say more, but the server approached carrying a large circular tray. Two steaming plates were placed before them, the smell of paprika and cayenne from the blackening singed Trent’s nose in all the right ways.
“Can I get you folks anything else right now?” the server asked.
Trent shook his head. “No, this looks great, thanks.”
Silverware clanked together as cloth napkins were unfolded and placed in laps. The tines of Trent’s fork slid through the flaky fish.
“Oh my word, this is good.” Summer held a hand up to her mouth as she talked around a bite of food.
If the smell lifting off the steam on his fork was any indication, it was more than good. He popped the first bite in his mouth. Sweet and spicy, it was like melody and harmony playing a hit single on his tongue.
Summer dabbed the napkin at the corner of her mouth. “So there’s something that’s been on my mind for a couple of days now. Something I can’t quite sort out.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” He set his fork down and took a drink of Coke.
The linen tablecloth suddenly absorbed her full attention. She drew lines along it with a fingernail, not once looking up. “The other day when you, you know, said I love you, did you mean—”
