by Anna Scott
Trent and I went to dinner that night at a little bistro nearby. It was so easy to talk to him. We completely lost track of time and didn't realize it until the waiter came over to inform us that the restaurant was closed. After kissing me, back at my car, he asked me out again. I was so flattered by Trent's attentions, but was wary too, unsure of his true intentions.
“I would like that, but Trent, I don’t want to make a big thing, with everyone, you know?”
The puzzled look on his face had almost made me laugh, he just looked at me with a furrowed brow and shook his head in confusion.
“I mean, if we go out again, let’s just keep it between us, okay? I don’t want to make things awkward since we share friends. Does that make sense?”
He hadn’t been happy about it, but he’d agreed. It didn’t take long before we were going out almost every night, then the sleepovers began. Having Trent in my bed, or being in his every night certainly wasn’t a hardship. He was amazing, thoughtful and his stamina... well, he was just about the perfect package.
“Here you are,” Hope said, as she walked into the ladies' room, bringing me back to reality.
Fumbling with my clutch, I retrieved my lip gloss and began to apply it in the mirror, avoiding Hope’s inquisitive stare. Thankfully, with pregnancy, she needed the facilities, so I was able to busy myself until she moved on.
Walking back into the tent with Hope, I joined her at her table to visit for a few minutes. Her yawn caught my attention. I smiled at her, and she explained that their little one was very active at night, so her sleep was compromised. Also, she found herself needing a lot more rest these days. Apparently, the other thing that disrupted her sleep was her sexy husband who couldn't get enough of her ever changing body. Hope's cheeks reddened as she confessed that little tidbit, but I laughed happily to ease her embarrassment.
Dawn joined us at the table and, as she crossed her legs, I was able to admire her beautiful pointed toe Mary Jane strapped shoes. Instead of a buckle, there was a small cluster of crystals shaped into a flower. They were fabulous.
“I didn’t see those,” I told her, gazing admiringly down at her foot.
“They were last season’s. Remember you wouldn’t look at those?” She teased, knowing I would be irritated with myself. With our employee discounts, we were able to get amazing pieces for the wedding, without breaking the bank. My discount equated to almost as much as my salary some months. I did have an obsession with shoes.
“Why can’t we be the same size?” I grumbled at her, reaching down and softly caressing the toe of her beautiful heels.
"You have a fetish," Dawn giggled. Shaking her head, she smiled and lightly kicked the palm of my hand.
“Ouch,” I exclaimed, feigning injury. “I bet Gavin likes it when you’re rough like that. If those were in black, they could almost be dominatrix shoes.”
“Mmm, good idea,” Gavin moaned as he bent down and whispered into Dawn's ear. I had no idea what he was saying, but whatever it was made her cheeks turn pink, and she glanced down at the floor.
Forcing the fucking smile to stay plastered on my face, I jumped up, muttered some excuse and rushed back to the bar. There was one thing I knew for sure if Gavin was near, Trent wasn’t far behind. I was doing my level best to avoid Trent. I knew that my resolve was starting to waiver. If I wasn't careful, he'd have me backed into a corner in no time. He would have me promising him things that weren't good for him, regardless of how wonderful they would be for me.
When Trent and I were dating, he and Gavin didn't spend as much time together. Now that Trent was single, Gavin and Dawn were together. I imagined that they still weren't able to spend much down time together with Gavin otherwise occupied. The guys worked together every day, though, and still did some of the proverbial guy stuff. They had a special bromance. It was good to see such totally similar, yet vastly different men maintain such a close relationship.
Sure, they were both jovial, easy going and sometimes ridiculous, but Gavin was so laid back, he would easily fade into the background. Trent, on the other hand, was charming and charismatic as well. His presence seemed to fill up a room, never allowing the occupants to forget him. Both men were kind and protective, but Trent’s need to shield and protect those weaker than himself from anything that could ever hurt them was almost fanatical.
He taught a self-defense class for women twice a week. He worked it out with the local YMCA to make the class completely free. He donated his own time, as well as had another local female officer who volunteered with him. He told me a long time ago, that it was his opinion, that every woman and child should be able to protect themselves from anyone who would try and hurt them. I knew that there was something driving him, something in his past, but he never told me what it was. We hadn’t gotten to that level of intimacy in our relationship yet.
Asking the bartender for another, then another gave me the liquid courage to keep up the happy facade. It was the only way I knew how to be.
Trent’s huge frame came into view. He was moving toward me, his predatory gait catching and holding my attention. His aquamarine eyes sparked annoyance in the twinkling lights, his blond hair illuminated, the shaggy locks looking disheveled as if he had just run his fingers through it, or like someone else had. Downing my drink quickly, I tried to ignore him, to walk away from him - again - but I was too slow.
His large hand wrapped around my arm, strangely gentle and firm all in one touch. Just the feel of his hand energized my entire being. Tingles shot through me like I was being electrified, it never failed. He turned me on with just a touch - always.
“Where are you running off to?” He asked, pressing his body into my back. Even in heels, he was so much taller than me. He could shield me in a way that no one else would be able to see me.
“I was going to find Hope. I think they’re about ready to leave.” I explained even tipsy, I was able to put the right amount of casualness into my tone. It was so difficult to act like he was no one special, when, in truth, he was everything. I couldn’t let him know it, though, he couldn’t think that there was a chance for us. I wouldn’t do that to him. I loved him way too much.
“They’ve already left, sweetness. It looks like you’re stuck with me.” Spinning around to look up, way up, at him, I teetered on my heels. Thankfully, he steadied me, and he smiled at the glare I shot him.
“What?” I shrieked, exasperated, “they wouldn’t just leave me here.” I began to look around the area frantically, searching, but he was right, they were nowhere to be seen.
“Hope was tired,” Trent explained, with a sad smile on his face. I knew what he was thinking. If I hadn’t failed, it would have been us.
“That’s okay, I’ll just call a cab or grab a ride home with…” distractedly, I looked around once again, searching for anyone I could go home with. “Trinity,” I exclaimed, relieved to see her, she looked sober too. She was staying at Aurora’s house, but that wasn’t very far from mine.
Shaking his head, Trent smirked, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Nope, you’re stuck with me. It’s about time, don’t you think?”
Fucking shit, hell no, it was not about time. It wasn’t that I would be stuck with him, I would never, never allow him to be stuck with me, and that was just what he’d be.
"Trent, don't. Let's just... Just let me go."
"I can't, Amber and I never will." A mixture of sadness and resolve shone clear on his perfect face, and I knew I was done for.
Hanging my head in resignation, knowing just how stubborn Trent could be, I didn’t respond, but stopped fighting the ride home. It had been eight months since I had been his and just the smell of his skin was enough to melt my hardened heart.
“You ready, sweetness?” God, I hated it when he called me that. Okay, I loved it, but the constant endearments, sweet touches, calls, texts, looks, all of it made my resolve weaken. Why didn’t he understand that? Maybe he did, but he didn’t get it, not the big picture. I was a big picture girl, re
gardless of the party girl image I portrayed. I planned and managed my life down to the last detail.
“Um no, I...” looking around for the millionth time since he'd come over to me, I scanned the area for anyone I needed to talk to before leaving. “I need to tip the bartender. I haven’t done that yet.” Thankful I found a reason to walk away. I tried to move out of his grasp, but of course, Trent had other ideas. Damn the man, he was so quick, I had no chance.
“I’ll do it, sweetness.” He whispered in my ear. He’d wrapped his arms around me from behind, and it felt so good, so damned good to be in his arms again. God, I missed him, every damn minute of every damn day, I missed him.
“Okay,” I huffed out, faux-annoyed.
Trent entwined our fingers and held on tight as we walked to the bar. Only Gavin, Dawn, Reed, Trinity and some other random guests were still in attendance. Luke and Aurora had said their goodbyes about thirty minutes before, heading to a swanky downtown hotel before flying to St. Thomas for their honeymoon.
I noticed that our remaining friends had eyes only for us, taking specific notice of our joined hands. I tried more than once to tug my hand from his, but instead of letting go, he held me tighter. Obviously, I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to hold on just as tight, forever. In my inebriated state, it was becoming more and more difficult to find the willpower to keep him at a distance.
The bartender gave me a sweet smile as we approached, throwing in a little wink just for good measure. Unfortunately, Trent saw it. Moving closer into my side, he finally released my hand, but instead of letting me go, he wrapped his arm around my back and pulled my body flush with his. Grabbing his wallet from his back pocket with his other hand, he fished out a bill and placed it in the tip jar.
A manly head nod in acknowledgment was tossed out before Trent muttered, “thanks for taking care of my girl.”
The boy-man’s eyes widened, a look of trepidation crossed his face, probably worried that his obvious flirting was about to get him into trouble. The look was quickly replaced by a look of gratitude when he glanced at the tip jar. I looked at the bill on top, it was a hundred-dollar bill. What the fuck, he just tipped the guy one-hundred dollars? Damn, that guy was going to be pretty happy later.
I was so baffled by the money, and what Trent had said about me being his girl, that I forgot to try and pull away again. Trent was always generous, but I assumed that as a sheriff's deputy that he didn't make that much money, and throwing it around like that was out of character for him.
He turned me, gave a head nod to our group of friends and directed us toward the parking lot. Trent guided me to a sleek, black Camaro SS, with an awesome blue rally stripe, it was new, still had the paper plates on it. Was this his?
“Where’s your truck?” I asked, perplexed. I knew he loved muscle cars, and as he opened the door and I slid inside, I could tell that this thing was top of the line.
Getting in on the other side, he replied, “thought I’d bring this today. Figured it would be easier for you to get into in a dress.”
Confused, I thought about it for a minute. I had been planning to go home with Jake and Hope. "How did you know I would be coming home with you?”
He smirked and shrugged his shoulders, but didn’t answer.
“Damn it, Trent, how did you know?”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, he looked at me, before glancing over his shoulder to pull out of the parking spot. The engine purred beautifully, and the powerful machine moved smoothly.
“I planned it,” he admitted without looking at me again.
“What do you mean, you planned it, how? Why?” Realizing how stupid the 'why' was, I shut up. He had been trying to talk to me, to get me alone, for months. I just always had been better at avoiding him. Somehow, I let my guard down tonight and allowed myself to get caught.
“Jake mentioned that you were riding with him and Hope to the wedding when we went out last weekend. So, I told him that I would take you home.”
Simple enough, I thought, but didn’t Jake question that? No one knew, no one, not even Aurora had a clue that Trent and I had dated.
“He didn’t ask you why?”
“We’re going to talk at home, I have a lot to say, and I’m sure that you do too, but I’m done with this secretive shit. I didn’t tell him, but swear to God, Amber, we are the worst kept secret in Texas.”
What the hell did that mean? I had to wonder in silence because he cranked up the radio and didn’t say another word. For the rest of the twenty-minute drive back to my house, I was treated to Travis Tritt and Hank, Jr., blasting over the speakers, but when David Allen Coe started singing "Stand By Your Man," I was a mess. That was absolutely my favorite version of the song and Trent had it on his playlist, I couldn't help but think that he was trying to send me a message.
As we drove up to my house, he pulled right in the driveway, like he’d never left, he parked in his usual spot and shut off the car. Turning to look at me, he glared, placing his hand over the buckle of my seatbelt.
“If you get out of this car before I come around to get you, I’ll be pissed, Amber, and you don’t want to see me pissed, yeah?”
Pressing my lips together in a frustrated line, I didn’t answer, but I also didn’t make a move to jump out of the car. As hard as it was, I sat there and watched him walk around the hood. All I could remember was the last time he’d walked around his truck like that, to get to me. That night he had opened my door, unbuckled my seat belt and lifted me down, cradling me in his arms. I clung to him, holding on with everything I had left and sobbed rivers of tears into his chest. He’d held me like I was the most precious thing in his world. Remembering the pain of that fateful night sliced through me, I could see the entire scene clearly like someone had videotaped it. Just as he opened the door, an involuntary sob escaped my throat, and my hand flew up to cover my emotion.
The car was so low, he bent down, balancing himself on his toes and clasped my face in his hands. “Sweetness, please God, don’t cry.” The warmth on my skin was a soothing balm to my ravaged spirit. Somewhere in me, I knew that I should be able to move past the pain by now, that I should be able to stop crying, but I couldn't.
Shaking off the memory, I pulled my shoulders straight and nodded. “I’m good, but tired. I need to go in and sleep." Desperately, I searched for my shield, I let him see too much, he would know, he would see me. He had to believe that I didn't love him and that I was fine so that he could move on. If he witnessed my pain, my never-ending sorrow, he would feel guilty and think he needed to keep an eye on me.
He raised an eyebrow and one side of his mouth lifted. Reaching in, he unbuckled my belt but thankfully didn’t lift me out this time. Instead, he stood to his full height, and extended his hand, gentlemanly as he was, to assist me. Keeping my hand firmly in his once again, he led me to the front door of my house. Even when I tried to pull my keys from my handbag, he didn’t let go. Instead, he stuck his hand inside, fished out my keys and opened the front door.
The motion sensor security light that he’d installed just under a year ago turned on, illuminating his determined face. He held the door open for me, as he’d always done, and followed me inside. Turning, he caught the screen door, since it had a tendency to slam, showing me, once again, how naturally, in tune with everything in my life, he was.
I needed a minute, one fucking minute. I had to get away, to find some space, to clear my head, to shake some sense into myself. It was all too much, way too fucking much. The sound of my heels clicking on the wood floors echoed around the room as I headed toward the hall, leading to my bedroom. With my back turned to him, the tears I was fighting began to fall in earnest, but I kept my shoulders straight and hoped like hell that from the back at least, I looked fine.
“You’ve got ten minutes, Amber. If you’re not back out here, I’ll come and find you.” His warning sounded like a whip crack, echoing around the silent room. My back stiffened in rage. Did he think I was trying to
play games with him? I wasn't acting like a fucking child, I wasn't being selfish, I was cutting out my own heart to save his.
Letting out a deep, calming breath, I spun to face him, bracing for his reaction to seeing me this way. I glared at him, trying to mask my pain. I should have known better, Trent saw everything. His eyes widened, and his face paled as he got a good look at the warring emotions clear on my face.
“Sweetness, no,” he pleaded in the softest voice to ever exist on Earth, as he reached for me with one hand. He seemed to be stuck in place, unsure of what to do next, though his arm had moved, nothing else did, which was good for me, I couldn’t be held just then. I’d break the rest of the way, for sure.
His uncertainty surprised me, he almost always had a plan, at least when his world wasn’t tipped on its axis. Any contingent he was able to imagine, he planned for that too. Me, however, and all the shit in my life, he’d not been able to foresee.
“I need a damn minute, okay?” I asked, mock-calmly as the black mascara streaked down my face. I had seen my reflection in the mirror before I’d turned around, I knew the frightening sight he saw when I’d looked at him. Maybe it was a bitch move, but I needed a break here. I wasn’t trying to be difficult just to yank his chain, I was doing my level best to hold my shit together and save him from a life he didn’t want and would grow to resent.
I held his pained stare a few more seconds, then turned once again and headed to my room. I stripped out of my dress, then sat on the bed to remove my shoes. I rejoiced in the fact that I’d picked a dress that hadn’t needed to be unzipped by someone else. That would have been difficult. I never understood why I could zip something up, but about broke myself in half to get it down again.
Walking to my dresser in my underwear, I yanked off the strapless bra that had been cutting into my skin for the past three hours, tossed it toward the laundry hamper and pulled out my favorite hoodie and sweatpants.
Sweats were my guilty pleasure. Very few people knew about them since I was totally polished and perfect at all times. Trent knew, he’d seen them all and had even added to my collection. The pants had to be loose enough that they weren’t tight against my rounded ass, and the inside needed to be as soft and fluffy as possible. Same with sweatshirts, except they had to fit my tits, always have a hood and the front uni-pocket thing. I could keep all kinds of crazy shit in there.
