by Anthology
“Which way?” He slid his gaze toward me, tapping two fingers on the steering wheel.
“Uh, left, please, and then right at the light.” My skirt was twisted under one leg, and I gave it a tug. “By the way, I’m Elizabeth. Elizabeth Hudson. You know, like the river.” It was my old stand-by when introducing myself, and usually the line at least got me a weak smile. But not from this guy.
“Yeah.” He glanced at me sideways. “I saw your name on the door. Since there was only one of you in the office, I figured that had to be you.” He stopped at the red light, looked in both directions, and then took the right turn. Just when I thought he was going to ignore my introduction, he added, “I’m Trent Wagoner.”
Trent. I tested it silently. He didn’t really look like a Trent. I gave myself a moment to assess him. Maybe he was more like a . . . Jim. Or a Pete.
“You’re from Michigan?” I shifted so that I faced him a little more fully. “Oh, we need to turn left at the end of the bridge.”
“Uh, yeah.” His jaw tightened.
“I bet it’s strange, being down here in the heat. Is it really cold up there yet? Do you have snow?”
“Nope.” He took the corner fast and I grabbed for the non-existent oh-shit-bar. He spared me a glance. “Don’t lean on that door. Not sure it’ll hold.”
With a vision of my body flying out of the truck and hitting the curb, I moved away from the door and gripped my seat belt. “At the next stop sign coming up, veer just a little to the left. The courthouse’ll be on the right, and you can just pull up in front. I’m going to have to run for it.”
Trent braked to a sliding stop at the curb, and I unbuckled my belt, gave the door a push and jumped down to the sidewalk. I hesitated, looking back over my shoulder as I struggled into my heels, balancing on one foot. “You’ll wait for me?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, I’m going to drive away and leave you to walk back in those crazy shoes. Of course I’ll wait.”
“Thanks.” I hugged the manila folder to my chest and sped up the cement steps to the heavy wooden doors. I managed to get them open and double-timed it across the tiled foyer, my heels clicking furiously.
I swung open an oak door with a frosted window and stepped over the threshold, exhaling loudly. The large pendulum clock that hung on the wall behind Judge Gardiner’s dragon lady assistant said I’d made it with two minutes to spare.
“Miss Hudson.” Mrs. Alvarez regarded me over the top of her glasses. “I was beginning to despair of you.”
“But here I am.” I slapped the folder onto her desk. “Stamp that, please, that it was filed today.”
With a sigh that indicated a portion of her long-suffering, Mrs. Alvarez opened the folder, taking her time with inking the stamp and pressing it carefully to the cover. “Have you considered, Miss Hudson, that your insistence on self-reliance might be hurting your clients?”
I gritted my teeth. “Mrs. Alvarez, none of my clients have complained. In fact, I think they like the fact that my hourly fee is lower thanks to my, uh, insistence on self-reliance. And to be honest, it’s not so much that as it is a matter of economics.” I curled my lips into a sweet smile. “But you know, Mrs. Alvarez, when I can afford an administrative assistant, I hope I can find one just like you.”
She shook her head, her lips pursing. “Is there anything else you need today, Miss Hudson?”
“No, thank you.” I hitched the strap of my handbag a little higher on my shoulder. “You have a good Thanksgiving, Mrs. Alvarez.”
Her face relaxed a little. “You, too. Are you traveling to be with family?”
I took a step back, toward the door, thinking of Trent outside waiting for me. “No, I’m staying in town.”
The older woman’s brow knit. “You won’t be by yourself, will you?”
For a second, I was afraid she was going to invite me to dinner at her house. “I’m eating with friends.” I waved to her and put my hand on the doorknob. “Thank you, Mrs. Alvarez!”
Before she could say anything else, I escaped, closing the door carefully behind me. The last thing I needed was a pity offer for Thanksgiving dinner from the dragon lady. I hadn’t lied; Logan and Jude Holt had invited me to the huge holiday extravaganza they’d planned. What I’d hedged about was whether or not I actually intended to go. Holidays and me . . . we just didn’t get along. The less I had to think about what the next month would bring—endless Christmas commercials, annoying songs played over and over, gaudy decorations everywhere—the better. Thanksgiving was the entry way to holiday hell.
Back outside, I heaved a sigh of relief as I blinked in the sunlight. At the bottom of the stone steps, the ancient blue truck still idled, and I could see Trent sprawled on the driver’s side of the bench seat. He had one elbow crooked over the open window, his head leaning against his hand. Now that the pressure was off me, I had a minute to look at him a little more closely. His light brown hair was a little longer on the top than on the sides, and he had a thin layer of matching scruff on his jaw and cheeks. I wondered if it was as soft as it looked.
I made my way down to the sidewalk, smoothing my hair back away from my face. For the first time this afternoon, I wondered how I looked. I’d pulled my hair back into a low ponytail before work, hoping it would stay put, but between the humidity and the way I’d been rushing hither and yon, I was willing to bet it had frizzed out. Nothing I could do about it now.
Trent turned with a jerk when I pulled the passenger door open. I bit back a giggle. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Were you napping?”
He pushed himself to sit up straighter. “No.” His voice was rough, and I had a hunch I’d been right, judging by that and the way he was blinking. He jostled the stick shift as I settled in the seat and reached for the seat belt. “And you didn’t scare me. I was just . . . thinking about something else.”
“Ah.” I nodded.
“Did you make it? To the court in time, I mean?”
“I did. I actually had to go to the judge’s chambers to drop off a motion for one of my clients. If it wasn’t stamped as being filed before five, the judge wouldn’t consider it.”
“Okay.”
I kicked off my shoes and bent one knee, tucking a foot under me. “I represent an architect who was named as a defendant in a case involving faulty wiring at a hotel in Daytona. Sometimes in these cases, the plaintiffs’ attorneys have a habit of including everyone under the sun in the case. I had until today to file a motion explaining why the complaint against my client should be dismissed.” I turned what I hoped was a blinding smile at Trent. “And thanks to you, I made it.”
He shrugged. “Wasn’t a big deal.”
“No, it really was. I’d have been up shit creek if not for you.”
“If I’d made sure you’d gotten your keys back, you wouldn’t have needed a ride.”
I laughed. “And if I paid better attention to the email updates from my building management, I wouldn’t have parked in the wrong place to begin with. So like it or not, you saved my ass.”
As if mentioning it reminded Trent of its existence, he glanced down at that part of my body, his eyes raking over the bare skin of my thigh where my skirt had ridden up. I waited for the smolder, for his gaze to heat up.
But he only looked away, staring out the windshield as he pulled away from the curb. “It wasn’t a problem.”
Hmmm. I frowned. No reaction at all. Not what I’d expected. Was he gay? I didn’t get that vibe. It was possible he just wasn’t interested in me. I didn’t have any delusions about my own irresistibility; I was reasonably attractive, and when I was in the right frame of mind and got dressed up, I usually managed to capture some attention. And maybe today, what with the key mix-ups and me running around like a crazy woman, I’d managed to repel Trent more than anything else.
Still . . . even a guy who wasn’t necessarily interested should give my leg, namely my naked inner thigh, a little more attention. And now maybe my pride was wounded, o
r maybe my curiosity was piqued, but I wanted him to notice me. If I were really being honest, it was possible that I wanted him to notice me—and more specifically my naked inner thigh—because that thigh, and the rest of me, had gotten precious little action of late.
Yes, it was sad but true. I’d been in the middle of a dry spell for nearly a year now. This was the longest I’d gone without sex since I’d tossed in my V-card during my junior year of college. I’d been a late-bloomer, mostly because I didn’t party and I was extremely picky. But once I’d uh, bloomed, there’d been no stopping me, because, as it turned out, I loved sex.
I loved everything about sex. I liked the brand-new, awkward sex, the comfortable-with-a-long-term-partner sex, the mad sex, the break-up sex . . . you name it, I was passionate about it. And because I enjoyed it so much, I had a lot of it, at least up until the time I’d stupidly listened to my best friend Darcy and moved down here to Florida after we graduated from law school.
So it was with that thought in the back of my mind—okay, it might’ve been closer to the front—that I bunched my upper arms close to my chest, squeezing my boobs into prominence as I leaned forward toward Trent.
“Is this your first time in Florida, or do you come down to sell trees every year?” I let a little of the breathy flirt into my voice and fastened him with my best hi-there-big-fella look.
Trent side-eyed me, but if he noticed my cleavage, he didn’t give any indication. “No and no. I’ve been to Florida. But this is my first year selling trees.”
“Oh, really? Were you down here before for business or on vacation?” I tilted my head.
“I used to live in Georgia. I came down here once or twice with buddies. I wouldn’t call it vacation, but it wasn’t business either.”
“You lived in Georgia? Whereabouts? My friend’s daughter lives there. She just got married last spring.”
This time, he did give me more than a passing glance and sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Yeah, you mean Meghan, right? I know her. She lives in my town—well, the town I used to live in.”
I straightened up a little. “That’s quite a coincidence.”
He shook his head. “Not really. We’re using the lot at your building because I know Meghan, and she asked her step-father if we could put the tent up there. So . . . not such a small world.”
“Oh.” That was a conversation stopper, though it was more Trent’s tone than his words that said he didn’t want to talk about it. “Well . . . it must be pretty cool to sell Christmas trees, though.”
“I guess. Doesn’t much matter to me. It’s work, and it’s what I do twelve hours a day. I’m getting through this stretch because it’s what I need to do.”
“What did you do before this? Oh, and take the right onto the bridge. That’ll bring us back over into the Cove.”
He veered up the ramp but didn’t answer. I let the silence go on for a few moments, in case he was just focused on the road, and then I tried again.
“Were you in sales in Georgia, too?”
“Is this an interview?” He shot the words back at me this time. “Look, I appreciate that you’re trying to be polite, to make conversation or whatever. But you don’t have to. I’m just the guy selling trees outside your office. You don’t have to be my new best friend or my welcome wagon or whatever. There was a misunderstanding with your keys, we took care of it, it’s done.” He swung the truck into the parking lot and braked to a stop along the side of the building.
My face was burning, and my throat got tight, my typical reaction whenever I was embarrassed. I reached for the door handle, pausing only long enough to pick up my shoes. “Thank you for driving me to the courthouse. Please make sure my keys get back to me before five o’clock.” I shoved open the door and stumbled out of the cab, not watching where I was going as I walked across the asphalt and into the building.
I made it to my office chair and collapsed, not sure which hurt worse: my feet or my ego.
Chapter 2
Trent
I sat in the cab of my truck, watching the pretty blonde hustle across the parking lot, not stopping even though the pavement had to be hurting her bare feet. A pang of regret stabbed my chest.
Damn. I hadn’t meant to be such an asshole. Or maybe I had, but I hadn’t realized she’d take it like this. I just didn’t want to talk about my life in Georgia, or why I was in Florida selling Christmas trees, or anything else about myself. I’d come down here to make a little money, get my head on straight, and once I was back in Michigan, I’d figure out what came next.
“Yo, Trent!” My uncle Nolan laid a big hand on the door of my truck. “What’s going on?”
I shrugged. “Long story. Tell you later, but it’s taken care of. Hey, is Joe back yet?”
“Yeah, he’s handing out keys to the motel rooms.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I pushed the door open, and Uncle Nolan stepped back. “I’ll make sure everything’s set up here, and then we’ll secure it for the night. We’ll put up the signs in the morning, if that sounds good.”
“That works. Logan says the local cops patrol around here pretty regular, so we should be okay.” He took off his ball cap and scratched at the thinning hair on his head. “Crazy thing, selling trees before Thanksgiving, huh? Up ‘til a few years ago, we never would’ve opened until Black Friday. Used to be, Ellie’d make Thanksgiving dinner for us to eat at noon, and we’d have the trailer all loaded up. No sooner we’d take the last bite of pumpkin pie, the boys and me would be on the road, driving all night to get here and set up to sell.”
“I’m glad you can fly home this year and eat with Aunt El and the kids. And no worries about anything down here, right? We’ll take care of the trees.”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “I know that. Can’t tell you what it means to me that I can get on that airplane Wednesday and have a real Thanksgiving with my family.” He leveled a steady look at me. “There’s no one else I’d trust, Trent.”
The weight of his trust was heavier on me than the hand that gripped my arm. “I won’t let you down.”
“Good man. All right, enough with the touchy-feely stuff. Let’s finish up here so we can get settled over at the motel.”
“I’ll be right there. Gotta talk to Joe real fast first.”
I made my way through the maze of trees, most of them still tied up, until I spotted the red-haired kid standing near the open trailer. “Hey, Joe. Remember those keys I gave you to take inside to the lawyer?”
Confusion clouded his round face for a moment before understanding dawned. “Aw, shit, Trent. Nolan asked me to give him a hand with the posts, and I stuck the keys into my pocket and just forgot. I’m sorry. Was the lawyer pissed?”
“She wasn’t happy.” I muttered the words under my breath and then forced a smile as I looked back at Joe. “No big deal. Just do me a favor and run them into her now, okay?”
“Sure thing.” He headed for the front door, and I went back to moving trees into stands. I was on my third tree when I heard Uncle Nolan’s voice again.
“Trent, c’mere, son. Need you to meet someone.”
I stood up and stretched, making my way over to where my uncle stood with a tall guy in a suit.
“Logan, this is my nephew, Trent Wagoner. He’ll be the one in charge of the lot whenever I’m not here. And Trent, Logan Holt’s the owner of this building.”
“Sure, Trent and I spoke on the phone.” The man leaned forward, offering me a hand. “Nice to meet you. Glad we could make this happen.”
“We’re grateful you were willing to give us space at this late date.” Uncle Nolan grinned at me. “Who would’ve thought Trent would have the connections we needed?”
That stung. I knew he didn’t mean anything, and the fact was, he was right. I’d been the family screw-up for as long as I could remember. It wasn’t a shock that most people who knew me would be surprised that I’d come through on anything.
“Well, Jude and I love Burton. With Meghan living up
there, we’ve gotten to know the whole town pretty well. So when we heard you’d lost your normal site, and we thought about this big parking lot, it only made sense.”
“And we appreciate that.” Uncle Nolan flickered a glance at me. “And Trent here taking over for me this year is a treat, too.” From the back of the trailer, Andy yelled, and my uncle grimaced. “Excuse me a minute.”
Logan shook his head. “Never a dull moment, huh? Hey, listen, I wanted to let you know that you and any of the other guys who’re staying to help are invited to Thanksgiving dinner at our house. We always do a big spread, and the more the merrier.”
The idea of being the only outsider at some huge family gathering didn’t exactly sound like fun to me, but I nodded anyway. Apparently Logan saw through me.
“I know, last thing you want to do is hang with a bunch of strangers. But think about it. You don’t have to let me know now. If it gets to Thursday and you decide you want to eat with us, come on over.” He leaned a little closer. “To be honest, you’d be doing me a favor. My wife’s a little down about this holiday, because it’s the first time the whole family won’t be home for Thanksgiving. Meghan’s coming to the Cove for Christmas, but you know how it is—she had to compromise, and that meant spending Thanksgiving in Burton. Jude understands, but she’s still missing her girl.”
I pictured Sam and Meghan Reynolds and imagined what the holiday would look like out on the family farm. Sam’s sister Ali would be there, without doubt, with Flynn and their daughter. It still grated a little, the fact that he’d swept back into town and gotten back with Ali as though he’d never left. As though he hadn’t skipped off and left her alone and pregnant. I knew I’d never had a real chance with Ali. She’d never seen me as anything other than a joke. But still . . . I couldn’t see Flynn Evans without being completely pissed.
Logan was looking at me expectantly, waiting for some kind of response. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans.