by Sheri Lynn
A West End Wonder by far. She severely underestimated him. Typical. She sucked. She honestly, truly, disgustingly—sucked.
What little she heard of Trevor’s informative speeches, she enjoyed. He relayed the geography of the island and alerted them to points of interest in a knowledgeable and entertaining manner. Just as he approached everything in his life.
She did learn he became interested in flying while on a return to trip to one of his favorite destinations, Alaska. He informed them that there is a lot of Alaska that can’t be reached by any other mode of transportation. Though he initially took lessons and got a private pilot’s license, he didn’t plan on using it for anything other than bouncing around for his personal travel. But after two years on the island and West End Wonders expanding the activities they offer, he decided to offer tours from the air.
They flew over the large, white mansion used in filming the television series Fantasy Island. She didn’t realize how close to mainland Honduras Roatán actually was. The views were breathtaking. The beautiful water, rolling greenery, and the West End Wonder himself.
She tried to sink down in her seat and focus on the scenery outside of the aircraft. But her eyes kept roving to him. During the flight, she talked herself in and out of apologizing for her juvenile behavior that morning. In less than forty-eight hours she had made such a fool of herself it necessitated apologies on two separate occasions.
He stopped the plane short of the hangar once they landed back at the airport. The same guy who assisted them onto the plane helped them off. All the other gals were animated and chattering about their excursion. Sophia hadn’t spoken a word to anyone. She couldn’t shake the veil of disgrace she spun and enshrouded herself in.
The old adage rang true—you can take the girl out of the trailer park but not the trailer park out of the girl. When it came to Trevor, she reacted and behaved as the foolish drunks she grew up with. Before college, nightly screaming matches outside her window were common. Beer cans being thrown at one another and at cars and trailers also a regular occurrence. Guns pulled and shots fired. Usually just warning shots, but there had been the occasional ricocheted shot grazing someone or some fool shooting themselves in the foot.
“Sophia, you stay. Come back in and sit with me,” Trevor called.
Straggling behind the others, she twisted her head and gave him her best ‘are you serious’ face.
“Yes. Get back in. We’re going back up.”
Oh no they weren’t. “Trevor, don’t. This is ridiculous. We’ve been apart from each other and managed just fine. We reconnect and…it’s best we keep and stay apart.” She meant it. But watching the gargantuan, captivating smile of his light up his stunning face, her knees weakened as did her persistence.
Renee verbally supported her continuing to walk to the terminal. “You are a glutton for punishment, Trevor. But you always were. Please abstain from subjecting those of us who came for an enjoyable event to any of your volatile antics you two.”
Trevor straightened and saluted, “Yes, Li’l Sarge.”
Sophia couldn’t help but laugh. She forgot he nicknamed Renee that. Renee happened to be somewhat of a control freak. She took on the role of ‘mother hen’ to them both during college. In their senior year she served as more mediator though.
“I love you both,” Renee affirmed, giving a reverse wave up and behind her head.
“Come on. I need to get the plane back and locked in before dark.” Trevor strutted his sexy ass over and took Sophia’s hand in his. Firmly. He tugged her behind him.
Seeing him in his dark tee shirt and cargo shorts exhibited such a contrast to pilot attire on commercial airlines. She smiled and chuckled.
Trevor’s head jolted back, and he looked puzzled. “What’s so funny? I was prepared to chase you down and throw you over my shoulder. Caveman style.”
Her chuckles altered into sarcastic laughter. “Oh, is that so?”
Shifting her in front of him, he gripped her waist and lifted her inside the plane. She estimated the time to be between four and five. He mentioned returning by sundown. Four hours away. What did he have planned?
“Trevor--,” she circled and blocked his entry. “I’m serious about us keeping and staying apart. I owe you another apology. Sort of. That’s two in two days. That’s ridiculous. There’s too much history. Too much that time hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s proven we accomplished what we wanted apart. And we work best that way.”
Gripping her shoulder, he nudged her out of his way and into the co-pilot seat. “The only part of that I heard…you owe me another apology?”
Cute. Real cute. Damn he irritated her. All of him. Positioning his head set and slipping on a pair of sunglasses, she admired his profile as he called over the radio. She couldn’t believe he learned to fly. True to his moniker, the West End Wonder.
She never thought of herself as a lover of bearded men. But on him, it totally worked. Too well. She wanted to run her fingers over it. Thread the others in his hair and – pull his face to hers. His lips to her lips.
No. No. She wanted to yank his hair and force his attention. “Why am I being the sensible one?” she pressed.
He started the engine and tossed a head set in her lap. “Put it on. Listen to the air traffic and stop talking shit.”
Her mouth opened to oppose. But his suggestion intrigued her. She slid the head set over her hair and ears adjusting it.
They taxied to the end of the runway situated directly alongside the ocean. Within a few minutes they were airborne once again.
“I pointed out the islands of Guanaja and Utila earlier. I’m giving you a private tour of Utila,” informed Trevor.
She truly loved viewing it all from the sky. The lush, hilly landscape and the turquoise water made her feel a million miles away from the hustle and bustle of her usual locales. He lived a life of an everyday vacation.
“Since you already received my touristy tidbits of information and history of the islands, what were you saying about an apology?” he urged.
She sighed and it echoed through the headset. He leaned across and pushed the microphone up and out of the way. “Your volume control is on your right earpiece. We don’t need to use it to hear one another. I thought you might like hearing radio traffic. Thankfully, this baby is relatively quiet compared to other models. Perfect for what I need.” He patted the panel.
“Aren’t planes expensive? This is yours? As in you own it?” There she went. Always focused on the financial aspects.
He tilted his head in her direction eyeing his displeasure in his taut eyebrows visible above his sunglasses. “Not all of us are obsessed with money, Sophia. But if you must know, remember all those summers I worked. We both know I don’t have expensive taste and have no issue bunking wherever I can stretch out and lay my head. I had a decent nest egg. Bill has advised me over the years on investment opportunities. To answer your question, the plane is mine.”
“That was rude of me. But why are you doing this? Not that I’m not enjoying it. And I appreciate it. But why? Especially after how I acted this morning.” Her curiosity got the best of her. She wanted him to answer. She didn’t want him to answer. In two days, she would fly back home. Never see him again.
He took a deep breath before his shoulders slumped as if in defeat. He fixed his focus straight in front of him and out the windshield. She watched his jaw move back and forth as if grinding his teeth. “I never wanted us to end. That was all you. Just seeing you again felt like no time had passed since we parted ways. Being with you is natural to me. It feels right.”
She fought the impulse to snap at him denying it. She couldn’t. She pushed and pushed until she drove him away. Because she thought it would be easier. Easier than a long-distance relationship. Less painful and void of her attacking him with claims of cheating because of her issues with trust. Which would fester and spread until she existed in a cocoon of doubt and unable to breathe.
She swallowed d
own the lump in her throat. “But time has passed. And a lot of it. We didn’t want the same things. And I don’t believe that has changed with time,” she muttered. Did she believe her own words? She didn’t believe she had the strength to deny her heart what it desperately wanted. Not when he said all of the things she longed to hear him say and never dreamed she would. Not when as happy and light as her heart felt during those moments—it wouldn’t last.
Lowering her head, she stared at nothing. She caught sight of his dropped fist beside his seat. He clenched and released it. Over and over.
“Then how come neither of us has moved on. I haven’t. I’m sorry you thought Marti and I were in a relationship. And don’t say you have moved on, Sophia. You have no ring. Engagement or wedding. You at some point had plans to bring someone…but didn’t,” Trevor contended.
He snapped his head in her direction. She didn’t look up, but she sensed the heat and tension radiating from him.
“I have,” she whispered.
His fingers came under her chin. He lifted it and directed her face in his direction. Removing his sunglasses, he leaned in and urged, “Have what, Sophia? You’re a terrible liar. Always were. I can’t tell you how excited I was to see you coming down to go out this morning. And how quickly it became a maddening disappointment.”
Her chin quivered. Oh God no. Please don’t cry. Hearing she disappointed him because of her jealousy and jumping to conclusions made her shame unbearable.
“Marti and I are business partners. Only business partners. She is not my girlfriend.” His sweet, dreamy eyes revealed his honesty. They reached deep inside of her reassuring and appealing to her.
Her vision grew blurry. The first tear fell. “I thought Marti was a guy. You said you both share the studio apartment above the shop,” she sobbed. “So, finding out he was a she. You work and live together.” Pulling her chin away from his hand, she slung her head and upper body away from Trevor. Away from his perceptive gaze.
“Oh damn it. I thought…fuck. I obviously didn’t think. I almost introduced you two last night. But, Marti had her fuck me outfit on because she had a date with someone from an earlier dive she’d been all gaga over. And, I couldn’t risk you thinking for one second that I had my eyes on anyone but you.” His fingers clamped her shoulder squeezing it. “I didn’t want things to blow-up in my face before I gained a real chance with you.”
She sobbed as she accepted the truth. She never believed herself good enough for a guy like Trevor. It’s not that she didn’t trust him. She didn’t believe in herself and trust she could hold onto him. She hurt herself by self-sabotaging their relationship. And if she didn’t get her shit together she would do it again.
Chapter 8
Friday Night/ Utila
Trevor
Sophia finally opened-up to him. He hated it came with a torrent of tears and he couldn’t pull her to him and soothe her. After making the necessary calls across the radio, he patted and squeezed her thigh and promised he would do his best to make her feel better.
As if having her think he and Marti were a couple wasn’t enough to cope with, it never entered his mind she thought of Marti as a guy. How did he overlook that?
He always spoke of Marti as Marti and forgot she had a unisex name. She used Marti instead of her real name, Rosanna. She claimed over the years, customers and guides discounted her before meeting her and witnessing her skills based on her first name. She even went as far as dropping Rosanna from most photo identifications. Rosanna Martin Douglas, Martin being her mother’s maiden name, became Marti Douglas.
Sophia had settled down by the time he landed the plane. He removed her headset and unbuckled her belt. Crouching to her side, he pulled her into him. He caressed her head. “If I had any rationality instead of concentrating on impressing you and showing you a good time, I would have recognized my blunder in not enlightening you to the fact that Marti is female.”
“That did surprise me, but Ellie, one of the other bridesmaids, said you and Marti were a couple,” Sophia mumbled into his collarbone.
They used to be. Not really. In their first few months together they enjoyed one another sexually, but both decided they worked better as business partners and not relationship partners.
He believed he might regret not confessing he had slept with Marti, but he had Sophia in his arms again and he planned to hold on to her for as long as he could. Ruining what he arranged for them for the rest of the day by admitting he and Marti had sex in the past and still lived together—just no. Enormous fucking no.
He kissed the top of her head. “Oh, I hate to do this, but we need to get going.” He released her, catching her hand. Lacing his fingers with hers, he pulled her with him out of the plane. Opening the cargo hold, he retrieved his backpack. He smiled watching her scrutinize the surrounding area and tiny airport.
“I know. You thought Roatán had a small airport and lacked extravagance. Utila is the smallest of the Bay Islands. It truly is a diver destination and gets an abundance of backpacker traffic.” He told her. She grinned. It reached her eyes, which were still damp from her crying episode. He hated that she got upset, but she looked so pretty.
Her blue eyes went wide. Her cheeks flushed pink exposing her modesty. “What? Why are you looking at me that way?” she murmured.
“Just happy you are here with me. You look beautiful.”
Shaking her head, she pulled her sunglasses out of her bag and put them on. “You’re silly. But thanks.”
They didn’t have a long walk as just as on Roatán the airport sat adjacent to the ocean. He took her directly to the dock and helped her inside a small, but sufficient watercraft. “Water travel is the most popular method of getting around Utila. Besides walking. You’ll get to see the town, but we are going someplace much more secluded.”
Taking a seat on the bench in the center of the boat, the only true seat, she looked up at him and scrunched her lips. “More secluded. My, my, Mister West End Wonder, you have some sinister plot to grant me a private experience of more than one of your many marvels,” she teased.
Damn if his cock didn’t twitch. He did. Oh yes, he did. But not until they returned to Roatán. Most likely. If he and his dick, could exercise a serious amount of patience.
He yanked on the pull and cranked the little motor. He couldn’t complain about the size or condition of the boat left for him. When he called a business associate of his earlier, he was told they couldn’t spare any boats. So, he had no complaints. Even if it entailed, he sat on an upside-down paint bucket where the back bench used to be, he would.
The weather cooperated. He worried checking the radar earlier there might be some rain in the forecast. It went North and missed them. The sun shone on her long, auburn ponytail giving it more of a glow than it normally had. Her head remained stationary as she observed the harbor and then appreciated the remote scenery.
It gave him a lot of pride to share this with her. It filled him with excitement witnessing her enjoyment and enthusiasm. Not once since the last time he saw her did he ever expect it would happen.
Beaching the boat in the secluded spot, he shut off the motor. “Well, what do you think?” he asked.
Staring at him over her shoulder, she shrugged. “About?”
He chuckled. “Come on. Get out of the boat and take a stroll.” He had wavered on whether or not to buy the vacant beachfront lot. But the opportunities were endless. Not only would it allow him to expand his business to Utila, but he wanted a place of his own. A home. And living on Roatán didn’t appeal to him as much as what lay before him. He yearned for a more isolated residence.
No need to go into all that with Sophia. Maybe never. Dropping the backpack in the sand he unzipped it. He pulled out the snorkeling gear and tossed it out in front of them. Next, he grabbed two pairs of water shoes. A must in the abundant coral. Last, but not least—correction, definitely the least—he retrieved the black bathing suit. Linking the bikini bottoms on his pointer
finger, he dangled it. Her mouth opened and froze.
“You owe me a snorkeling trip. And I won’t take no for an answer,” he stipulated.
Cocking her head, she strutted up to him slipping her finger into the bottoms taking them from him. She swung them in front of each of their faces. “Where are the rest of them? They appear to be missing the portions meant to cover my ass.”
“Tsk. Tsk. I think that there is one of dem so-called thong bottoms,” he drawled in pitiful imitation of a deep southern accent.
Letting the bottoms drop to the sand, Sophia took her shirt in her hands and whipped it over her head. Her awesome tits were spilling out of the top of a lacy white bra. Spinning around, she wiggled her shoulders. “You gonna lend a lady a hand or not?”
Good Lord. How did he ever think he could get her out of her clothes…in the bikini…and not reacquaint himself with all of her over and over until they both were unable to do it again.
He unclasped her bra for her. Per her request. The anticipation of her next question had him suppressing a major bout of laughter.
Clutching her bra to her chest as if it concealed anything anyway. But, damn if her hands didn’t cover more than the bra. She circled and stared at him. When he didn’t do or say anything, she waggled her head at him. “Well. You going to hand me the top or not?”
He never wanted to look anywhere but at her so desperately. He must be strong. At least he had his sunglasses to obscure what certainly must be extreme smugness in his eyes.
“Trevor!” she shouted. “The top. Give me the top.”
“I somehow forgot to grab a top off the rack when I got the bottoms.”
Her palms landed square on his chest. But not before she released the bra and he got a quick peek at her bare breasts. He took a step back from the impact.