“No, that’s the other thing. I left it at home.”
“Even better, I’ll stop by later and we’ll look at it together. Okay?”
She nodded and the door opened. Sal DeNardo stepped out with a big smile and his arms open wide. He was the son of Italian immigrants who’d left the east coast over fifty years ago and made their way across the country to settle in Bay Point.
“Ah! It’s my favorite customer in all of Bay Point.”
He pointed his finger at Trent’s chest. “Don’t tell Steve.”
Trent shook his hand. “Are you telling me that my brother has actually stepped over the threshold of this fine establishment?”
“No, of course not.” Sal laughed and nudged Trent with an elbow. “But I hear the talk in town. There’s no love lost between the two of you. Women aren’t the only ones who gossip, eh?”
Sonya arched a brow. This was the second time she’d heard a reference to Trent’s brother. She wondered what had caused the alleged rift between the two men.
Sal turned to Sonya. “And who is this pretty lady? Your girlfriend?”
Their eyes met, and she swore she saw a flame of heat in his gaze as he made the introductions.
“No, Sonya is one of my best students. Is everything ready to go for today’s class?”
“Yes, right this way.”
She heard the sound of female laughter. Sonya saw Violet and some of the other students heading their way, and she waved at the group.
Sal ushered them into the store and as he headed down one aisle, Trent hung back a bit and caught Sonya’s elbow.
“I have a list of items that everyone should have in their toolbox. I’ll stop by your house later this afternoon to drop it off, okay?”
She nodded, and just as Violet opened the door, he let go. Sonya didn’t think she saw, but his touch had been totally innocent, despite the pulsating heat it left behind.
Sonya pushed aside any worry about idle gossip and her project, and decided to focus on the excitement of the hours ahead.
* * *
Trent yawned as he traveled down Jacima Way, a winding, somewhat hilly road that led to Sonya’s home.
A couple of times last night, he’d opened his laptop intent on doing some research about Sonya, but decided it would be better to learn more about her through good old-fashioned conversation.
She seemed guarded at times, which was understandable given her father’s reputation in town. He’d just have to proceed slowly, allowing her to reveal as much, or as little, as she felt comfortable doing.
As he motored up Sonya’s driveway and got his first look at her place in the daylight, it was clear that her dad had put very little, if any, effort into the upkeep of the home.
In addition to the missing shingles, the yellow clapboard appeared to be rotted away in some places, the porch sagged and the mortar between the bricks on the lower half of the home was crumbling. And that was just what he saw with his naked eye.
Five minutes, Trent told himself as he shut off the ignition. That’s how long I’ll stay. Otherwise, he might just grab his tools out of his truck and start fixing stuff.
Sonya appeared in the doorway before he put a foot to a step. She checked her watch. “You’re early.”
He bounded up the stairs with a grin and tipped an imaginary hat. “Just following your lead, ma’am.”
The faded blue overalls rolled up at the ankles would have looked childish on most women, but on Sonya’s lithe body, the effect was mesmerizing because of its nonelegance. She wore a red scoop-necked T-shirt and ballet flats that did not do a great job of hiding the faded purplish-bruises on the tops of her feet.
Trent whistled. “I’d expected a pink tutu, some taffeta and a little lace, but I think I like this better.”
She looked down and laughed. “This old thing? It’s my cleaning outfit.”
She held open the screen door, which had been patched over in places. “Come on in, if you dare.”
He let the door slam behind him, and found he was in the living room that smelled like fresh-cut lemons.
“Is there something I should be afraid of?”
“Take a look around and see for yourself.”
There was a sofa, two easy chairs and a couple of side tables, all mid-century vintage. He would never admit it to Sonya, but he was looking for signs that a man lived here with her.
“This is a big house for just one person.”
“My aunt Nelda lived here for a while after my father passed away. She moved into an apartment recently but still has some things here.”
“No boyfriends?”
“Who—me or my aunt?”
“Who do you think, silly?”
“My ex and I broke up a long time ago when I was still living in San Francisco. Satisfied?”
“I didn’t mean to pry, Sonya. I just don’t want to tread on somebody else’s ground.”
She anchored her hands on her slim hips. “You’re here to give me advice, aren’t you? Or are you here for something more?”
He waved his hands at his waist. “No, no. Nothing to see here, folks. This is just a friendly visit with the sole purpose to assist a fellow Bay Pointer in need.”
Their eyes met and they smiled at each other, filling Trent with a sense of joy and relief. They both knew deep down that his visit today could be the start of something very special.
The focal point of the living room was a stone fireplace, swept clean of charred embers, with a low wooden bookcase flanked on each side.
“Does it work?”
She clasped her hands behind her back. “Yes, I had it inspected. I haven’t even used it yet, but I’m looking forward to it.”
On the top of each bookcase, there was a smattering of family photos.
“Ours are like that, too.” At her questioning look, he continued, “I’m talking about mismatched frames of various shapes and sizes.”
“Have you ever seen those catalogs where you can buy a three-pack of frames in all the same shape?”
He took the liberty of picking up one heart-shaped frame, which contained a small image of a baby being cradled by her two parents. He assumed it was a picture of Sonya, and he handled it just as carefully.
“I always wondered why some people feel that the objects holding their memories have to be perfect. Families certainly aren’t, right?”
“Mine wasn’t,” she replied bluntly. “Can you put that back, please?”
He set the frame back in its place, next to one that he assumed was her aunt. He took one last look at the baby photo, wanting to sear it into his mind, wanting her to explain more about her life growing up in this house.
He loved his parents deeply, but rarely did they see eye to eye. A lot of the times, he felt that if they didn’t have the business, they would have split apart a long time ago. Not his mother and father, as they were devoted to each other, but he and his brother.
He hoped that in Sonya’s case, the family dynamics weren’t too painful for her, but he had a feeling that they were. And he wished that he could shake the feeling that he was starting down a road with Sonya that he might never want to end.
She stuck her hands in her front pockets and seemed nervous. Her voice was soft again. “I—I had to move those there from the mantel because it is loose. I think it needs to be fixed.”
“Let’s see what the trouble might be.”
He jiggled the mantel with the edge of his hand, and the stone shifted only slightly. He looked underneath and spotted the problem right away, motioning Sonya for a closer look. Her perfume smelled like some exotic flower he would never remember the name of, but always made him want to hit a tropical beach and never go home.
“Look here. The screws in the metal brackets that hold up the mantel are rusted exactly where they are connected to the
fireplace.” He touched them and showed her some of the reddish dust that had collected. “That was the right thing to do. You can add this to the fix list.”
“I have a handyman on speed dial. Unless of course, you only want me.”
“Let me ask you something. Do you make house calls to all your students’ houses to give them advice on their projects?”
“No, but...”
“I’m not looking for special treatment.”
“If you haven’t gotten the memo yet, I like you.”
The smile she gave him lit up the insides of his soul. It was as if she’d never heard those three words before. Or maybe it was the first time she’d actually believed them.
Besides a large living room, there was a dining room and a kitchen with a cozy eat-in nook.
She handed him a list. “As you can see, there’s a lot to be done.”
The place was clean, comfortable and livable. So he wasn’t sure why he hesitated before speaking. He could see why she was having trouble choosing what project to start.
“I thought about what you said in terms of keeping the project as easy as possible, and make it something that could be completed in a weekend.”
“Yes, you are more likely to finish it.”
“I’ve decided to paint the cupboards instead of replacing them.”
“That’s a great idea. What color?”
“I was thinking an antique white.”
“I have some old cupboard doors that have glass in front that I salvaged if you’re interested. It would give you a more open feel. I could repaint them and show you how to install them. Some vintage hardware would be the finishing touch.”
“Wait a minute. It sounds like you want to do my homework. Isn’t that called cheating?”
“Not when you’re using it as an excuse to be close to someone.”
“Are you always such a flirt?”
“Only when I believe my efforts will be fully appreciated by the other party.” He bowed. “And only when I truly mean the words I say, which in this case, I do.”
“Liza Marbet came to view the house several days ago and gave it the thumbs-up for having good bones.”
He raised a brow and set the list back down on the table. “That’s high praise. I’m working on a couple of jobs with her clients. She does the design and I build the house!”
He set the piece of paper back on the kitchen counter.
“I hate to add to the list, but I recommend energy-efficient windows, refinishing the floors, replacing the wallpaper with new paint, as the priority for repair and in that order.”
“Those are all expensive projects. Can you suggest something more affordable that I can do?”
He thought a moment, and then snapped his fingers.
“The fireplace would be a good one. You could replace the stone mantel with one made of wood polished to a high shine.”
“Do you really think I can do it?”
“Yes. I have a feeling you can fix a lot of things.”
Like the loneliness in my heart. The admission in his mind, the utter truth that he needed someone, needed Sonya, nearly took his breath away. He was a master craftsman, an expert at building luxury homes, but he’d left building his own love story to fate.
Now was the time to explore the possibilities with Sonya. She was beautiful and sensitive, but most important, she was available.
The bay window in the kitchen provided a glimpse of the backyard and the rolling hills beyond.
“Would you like to go outside?” she asked.
They stepped out onto a small brick patio. “I can envision a deck back here with an extra-large grill.”
“Another expense?” she moaned as they walked several feet away from the house.
“Hey, don’t worry. I’ll make the burgers. I am a good cook, as long as I’m not distracted.”
And he knew he would be if he got into a relationship with Sonya. He wanted to tell her so, but instead, he shaded his eyes.
“It’s gorgeous out here. I can see the white caps of the waves. How far are you from the Pacific?”
“Three miles. We still get the cool ocean breezes. This homestead has been in my father’s family for over one hundred years.”
“Did you ever keep horses or raise cattle? This land would be perfect. There’s plenty of grass for grazing.”
She laughed. “Me, personally? No, and no one in my family. I’ve never seen any reference to horse or cattle farming here. This land is beautiful, pristine and perfect.”
So are you, Sonya.
His words were silent, but the meaning of them nearly rocked him off his feet.
He wanted to turn around and take her into his arms, but he held back. He needed to proceed with caution. Sonya’s spirit and body were strong, but there was something else about her that was fragile.
He stood there awhile, inhaling the fresh air, surveying the rolling lush hills of Sonya’s land, and his mind turned to business. It was untouched territory and, with its close proximity to downtown Bay Point and the ocean, could be an ideal consideration for residential development. It could be ideal for his company’s first foray into affordable housing.
Would Sonya consider selling everything to Waterson Builders? Bringing this lead to his mother and father would prove that he could be effective on the sales side of the business.
The squeak of a hinge that needed oiling brought him back to attention. Sonya had snuck off to sit in a two-person swing, and he recognized it as one that could be found at any big-box home improvement store.
She had one leg tucked under her body and used the other to push the swing. As soon as he sat down, she moved into a cross-legged position and faced him.
Her arms were lean and muscular, the kind that were only achieved due to a devotion to stretching and careful exercise.
“So do you think I’m crazy to have taken all this on?” she asked, spreading her arms wide.
“I admire you. Something must have brought you back. Most people come back home because they’re either running away or running toward something. Which is it for you?”
Her arms fell to her sides. “This swing wasn’t here when I left ten years ago.”
“It’s a more recent model. Maybe two or three years old.”
“I often wonder why he bought it. He wasn’t the type of man to stop and smell the roses. He kept very busy. If he wasn’t working, he was...”
Her voice trailed off, but Trent had a feeling she was going to say that her father was gambling.
“Go on,” he urged gently.
“I wonder if he sat here, gazed at the hills and thought about his life.”
“Maybe he was trying to soak it all in. This view could give a person strength and courage. It’s also very humbling.”
“And maybe it was too late,” she snapped.
A moment later, she covered her face with her hands and began to sob. He wanted to take her in his arms, but he also didn’t want her to lash out at him.
“If I said something wrong, I’m very sorry.”
Tears flowed down her cheeks. “No, it’s not you. I’m just trying to deal with the memories of my father.”
He moved over and draped an arm over her shoulder, and she laid her head against his chest.
“Did you see that old tire out front? The one hanging from the sycamore tree? I can’t bear to cut it down or get rid of it because that would be admitting defeat. That my father really didn’t love me.”
He realized he was on dangerous emotional ground.
“I didn’t know your father. When he was alive and had the jewelry store, I never had an occasion to buy jewelry so our paths never crossed. I would never make assumptions about your relationship with him. I do know that no one deserves to feel unloved. I’m very sorry you’re in such pain right
now.”
His eyes were luminous with desire. “I barely know you, but I want that to change. Do you?”
She gazed up at him under hooded eyes, and whispered, “Yes, I would like that very much.”
He barely let her get the words out before he began to pepper her face with light kisses. She leaned into him as he nuzzled the base of her neck all the way up until his lips devoured her mouth.
Their tongues slid against one another as their kiss deepened, and her low moan vibrated against his teeth.
The strap of her overalls fell down, and he broke away to lick the flesh of her exposed shoulder. Sonya leaned her head back and she shivered a bit in his arms as a gentle breeze stirred between them.
As she moved into a more comfortable position, the swing squeaked. The sound reminded him of bedsprings, and he wished he could set her on top of him and make love to her right there. The problem was, they were outside in broad daylight, and even though the property seemed secluded, he wasn’t completely sure that it was.
Instead, he took her lips in his and unhooked the strap of her overalls with one hand. She began to breath a little more heavily, so he figured it was okay to proceed.
Cupping her breast in one hand, he discovered with delight and relief that she wore no bra. Furthermore, her nipples were hard as nail heads. His mouth began to water and he felt his penis spring to life. He wanted to touch her breasts, he wanted Sonya to feel how much he wanted her, but he paused, knowing if he proceeded, there was no turning back.
Sonya wasn’t the type of woman who would be satisfied with a one-night stand. He felt that she would want to go slow, move cautiously, before giving herself to him. If he couldn’t handle that, he should stop now.
But he didn’t let go of her breast. He couldn’t, because she’d placed her hand over his. With her permission, he began to stroke her nipple with the pad of his thumb, and she began to move her hips in tandem with his circular motion.
After a while, she put one hand behind his neck and guided his head slowly down to her chest, as she lifted her shirt with the other. He enclosed her breast in his hand and sucked greedily on her blue-black nipple, flicking it back and forth with his tongue.
Winning Her Forever Page 6