After ten minutes and two falls, Angie climbed back aboard.
“You ready for a turn?” she asked.
“Don’t think these legs have the strength to push me to my feet and land me safely balanced on the board.”
“You can’t be referring to those muscled man-sticks you call legs? Not after all the hiking you do.”
Trevor grinned. “Not sure if muscled man-sticks describe or compliment my legs.”
Angie threw a life jacket at Trevor. “Put it on, big boy. Let’s see what you’re made of.”
After many false starts and six shattering crash-hits into the unrelenting water, Trevor climbed aboard. “I give up. You are the wave-queen, and definitely have the better legs for the sport.”
“Thank you.” Angie bowed in mock fun. “How about a swim at the sandbar? We can throw the football around?”
‘”Is there any tackling allowed in this game?”
“No, just a game of catch-the-ball.”
“Just checking. Now that I see this sporty-side to you first-hand, I wanted to prepare myself.” Trevor’s face held playfulness that enticed Angie and lured her in, hook-line-and-sinker. His voice crackled from the shortness of breath caused by his surfing exercise, but even that weakness paid tribute to the man.
Angie called out to Frank. “He’s had enough, Captain. Let’s hit the sandbar for a few minutes before we begin the tour of the cottages and homes.”
Trevor strapped the board tight within the bracket that held it in place and turned to face Angie. He grunted when the football slammed into his chest.
“Mm… Perhaps I will win this sport too, Mr. Dristoll.”
Trevor headed her way and a tickle fight erupted. When the boat slowed, they untangled and popped their heads over the side.
“We’re here.” Angie jumped to her feet. “The last one in the water starts with a five-point demerit.” She stumbled onto the back deck and landed in the waist deep water with a splash.
Trevor towered over her from the rear platform and stared. “Not fair.” He twirled the football in his hand and did a few fancy moves.
Angie roared laughing. She reached up and grabbed for his leg. “Get in here and we’ll see who can keep hold of that ball.”
Twenty minutes later, Frank called from inside the boat. “Hey, boss! If you want that tour we best be moving out. I’m invited to dinner with my folks at five tonight.”
Before they mounted the steps at the rear of the boat, Trevor placed his hand on Angie’s arm. She stopped and glanced his way. She choked her final playful giggle as she peered into his intense scrutiny. “What?” Angie said weakly, her legs threatening to sink under the heat of his stare.
Trevor never spoke, simply leaned in and placed his lips on hers, as if it were the most natural thing for him to do. Angie never withdrew but savored the unexpected kiss as if it held all the anointed healing for her lonely heart. He slowly pushed back, and she forced her eyes to open. They met his and smoldered.
“You two coming?” called Frank from behind the wheel of the boat. Reluctantly, they obliged and climbed back aboard the Heritage Queen.
“I’m sorry, Frank. We got carried away.” Angie and Trevor shared an intimate glance, which without warning turned into a nervous, puppy-love reaction.
Trevor was the first to break loose of the spell. With a mischievous grin, he spoke to the captain, “Who taught your boss how to play football in the water? It’s a near impossible task.”
“No doubt her father or brother. She is indeed a wiry one, Mr. Dristoll.” Frank turned frontward in his seat and reached for the key.
Angie picked up her towel to dry off. She dropped a flowery cover-up over her head and it fell to rest against her drenched, turquoise bathing suit. She sat down as the motor purred to life. Bit by bit, the boat eased away from the shallow water and back into the deep. Angie patted the white leather couch beside her and Trevor sat down.
“Keep an eye out my side and you will see where the wealthy spend a lot of their time and money in this neck of the woods.”
Trevor concentrated on the passing scenery for a few minutes but soon inched his focus back onto Angie’s face. “You shared that you lost your parents recently but I don’t recall you mentioning that you had a brother?”
Angie bit her lip. “My brother is dead, and I don’t like to talk about him.”
“I’m sorry. I said I wouldn’t bring your family up again but…” he paused before continuing. “You’ve been so forthcoming to me about your losses, and I’ve not reciprocated. Suppose it’s my turn to bend your ear. December of last year, my father went on a quick business trip. Mom and I worked feverishly to set up all the decorations, finish the Christmas baking, shop, and wrap presents. Dad was due home on Christmas Eve.” Trevor swallowed the lump in his throat. “He never made it.”
“Oh, Trevor, I am so sorry.”
“I know we share the same grief, but perhaps now you’ll better understand my hesitancy about the whole Christmas scene. I’m having a difficult time facing it mid-year. This theme you got running this month almost made me change my mind about bringing the bus here, but that would be selfish. We needed this place to relax. I keep my people far too busy on the road. Guess I want to make sure they get their money’s worth, but sometimes forget to let them stop and smell the roses.”
“I’m glad you came to Heritage Inn.” Angie left it there, and he offered a smile in return, all the while gazing into the depths of her soul. She liked that about him; not having to explain every change of emotion. Somehow he just knew.
Heart-soaked emotion drenched his words. “So am I, Angie.”
Trevor looked past her and smiled. “Most of my clients could afford a place like that.” He pointed to an extravagantly built home of a multi-millionaire.
“I suppose that level of clientele helps to bulge your pocketbook,” said Angie.
“It definitely does. And thankfully they keep coming back. That said, repeat passengers do present a challenge. I continually need to locate new places to visit.”
Angie smiled. “I hope Heritage Inn becomes a regular stop whenever you need a break from your fast-paced schedule.”
“You can count on it. How far in advance do you require bookings?” asked Trevor.
“You lucked out this week. Someone canceled. Most folks that have been here once plan a return visit before they leave.”
“Now you’ve given me some work to do. I’ll scan this year’s tours and see where I can squeeze us onto your timetable.”
Angie turned to face the passing summer homes. “I’m sorry about your father and about Christmas. It seems we have both losses in common.”
“You never said when your folks died?”
“Last Christmas, in Hawaii.”
Trevor grabbed her arm. She turned to face him and noted he’d gone pale.
“My father was in Hawaii, headed for the airport Christmas Eve when his taxi was involved in a multi-car crash. They rushed him to the hospital but announced him dead on arrival. It was a drunk driver – a teenager, not even old enough to drink.”
Angie heard the harshness in his tone. While her thoughts tried to decipher his information, she spoke the first thing that popped into her mind. “That’s why you struggle with your image of teens. And the drinking as well.” She could not help but feel relieved on the inside. He was not a recovering alcoholic and did not really hate all teenagers.
“The kid died before I could get there to kill him myself.” Trevor’s voice seethed with anger. “His face haunts me at night. A youthful, reckless moment of stupidity that caused multiple deaths.”
It hit Angie then. This tragedy sounded all too familiar and bizarre. That the dead man’s son should be sitting in the boat with her seven months later. She flinched when the sweet memory of Trevor’s kiss mocked her. He sensed her sudden reaction and reached for her hand. She withdrew it and glanced away to hide the tears that threatened to break loose. No! This relationship
with Trevor would never work. He would hate her when he found out the truth.
“Frank,” Angie called out. “Our hour is up. It’s time to head back.”
A VISITOR
Trevor did not attend the owl event, and as much as Angie hated it, his absence brought relief. How could she go from being interested in a man to doing everything in her power to avoid him – all in one afternoon? She mourned the relationship that would never be. Angie groaned and threw down her pen for the hundredth time that morning. The shortest -lived romance in all of history. And she had her brother to blame for it.
It had taken all her courage to forgive Jerrod for being the drunk driver who’d killed their parents. With the flight home from Hawaii only hours away, the couple had been on a frantic hunt to locate him. They found each other – their final seconds staring face to face in a head-on collision. But she’d pushed the other victims to the back of her mind, unable to deal with all the losses. Now, old bitterness resurfaced. The troubled young man had destroyed her chance at love, even from beyond the grave.
Angie avoided Trevor whenever she popped out of her office. By mid-afternoon she was going stir crazy and needed fresh air. A trip to town would be a good escape. She made it to Main St. and could feel herself relaxing. People had congregated for the Christmas fair. The three-day event was included on the daily schedule of things for her guests at the Inn to do, and she wondered if she’d run into any of them. As much as she wanted them to enjoy their stay in Pineville, she hoped they’d chosen to spend the day at the beach.
She strolled at a leisurely pace, but none of the fun events appealed to Angie. Friends and neighbors tried to entice her to join in but she waved them off and continued to roam. The air was hot. The young Mr. Santa looked like he was melting as he bounced the children on his knee and Mrs. Santa was raking in dollars from eager men who wanted to steal a kiss from the mystery gal behind the curtain of their choice. Angie stood smiling when a voice from behind interrupted her thoughts.
“Our young Claus family are a hit at the fair,” Trevor said.
Angie swallowed hard, forced a smile, and turned to greet Trevor. “Yes, the teens are rising to the occasion and playing their roles as if they were born to it.”
“You didn’t show up for meals in the dining room today?”
“No, I had work piling up. I ate in the office.” She never told him the work remained incomplete. Her mind was not on business today and it was a full-time job to keep it from straying into forbidden territory, more so now with Trevor standing within touching distance. She turned back to the crowd of teens gathering around the kissing booth.
“Are you okay? Seem rather distant?”
“Fine. But I must be off. Grabbing a quick treat from a vendor, then heading home to tackle more work.”
“Are you upset that I was a no-show in the barn last night?”
“Mr. Dristoll. I have no right to expect anything from you. You are a free agent – come and go as you please.” Angie started to walk away, and he grabbed for her arm.
“So yesterday – the fun on the boat and the kiss – it meant nothing to you?”
“Be realistic. You will move on in a few days and we will probably never see one another again. It’s better we remain indifferent.”
“A very logical and non-committal road to take,” Trevor said, his eyes penetrating into hers with an intensity that caused her to squirm. “You never even checked your stocking. I put something in there, you know?”
Angie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’d avoided the stocking on the mantle for that exact reason. She fully knew that he’d put something in there. “I suppose I forgot. How did your travelers enjoy the Christmas morning in July event?”
Trevor chuckled despite the anger that sketched his face. “They raved about how each person received an anonymous treasure that was their heart’s secret desire. They all swore you were Mrs. Claus and knew the act of giving would bring them all a step closer in their relationship with one another. I think you may have even sparked a few romantic interests.”
“I am pleased to hear that. Giving is a sure path to happiness for all involved.”
“Not working too well for me,” Trevor said, raising his eyebrows and demanding a response.
“The stocking? I’ll get to it later, I promise.” Angie started to move away. “Have a nice afternoon, Mr. Dristoll.”
“Mr. Dristoll? Really, Angie, I thought we’d passed that point?” She started to walk and he stepped up close behind her. “Let me treat you to a treat from the mid-way. You pick the vendor.”
Angie felt trapped. Surely she could manage a professional relationship with the man. Yes, professional she was good at. “Thank you.” She avoided using his name, first or last. “I was thinking of cotton candy.”
“The stuff that disappears on your tongue before you even swallow it?”
Angie could not help but smile. “It’s like sweet magic in your mouth, don’t you think?”
“I suppose, but I like more sustenance to my bite. Like a candy apple.”
“Why don’t we tackle both, then?”
“A fair compromise,” said Trevor as he hurried to catch up to the girl already in motion. “What’s the rush?”
“Work, remember?”
“I went through my events for the rest of the year. Can I book an appointment with the busy owner of the Inn to see if any of the dates are available for a revisit?”
“You can email them to me,” Angie said. “Let’s tackle the sticky apple first and save the magical melt-in-your-mouth treat for our last indulgent.”
“Angie, are you pushing me away on purpose?”
She wanted to blurt yes, but the word caught in her throat. She did not want to push this man away and a new wave of anger toward her brother erupted. It must have shown in her face for he backed off.
“I’m sorry, Miss … I don’t even know your last name.”
Angie bit her lip. That might trigger a memory to the name of the killer-teen he hated so much. “Angie is fine.”
“Well, then Angie. I think I will stop pushing myself on you since it seems to make you angry. That was never my intention. Have a good day and enjoy the magic treat. I’ll pray the Claus family will touch it with whatever you need to pull you out of that cocoon you’ve wrapped yourself in.”
Touché! He’d slapped her with the same earlier analysis she’d made of him. Trevor marched away into the crowd and soon disappeared from sight. Her heart plummeted. He obviously cared enough to want to see where fate would take them, but then, he didn’t know that the Parkinson family had been the ones to steal the last breath from his father. His anger would surely turn on her, and she couldn’t bear another heartbreak. Angie avoided the apple and headed straight for the pink cotton candy, which offered no magic to her tormented soul.
Just before supper, she received the email. It was formal, addressed to the owner of Heritage Inn, and took a business approach. It turned out there were two possible dates when Trevor could bring his tour bus to the Inn for a short stay. She’d be a fool to turn away business. There were ongoing bills and wages to pay, and her father had taught her to be a wise businesswoman. Angie could not let her heart stand in the way of success for Heritage Inn. With trembling fingers, she began to respond then scolded herself. She’d always appreciated meeting clients face-to-face whenever possible. She pushed back the chair and stood. Without a second thought she grabbed up her scribbly-sheet and went to hunt down Trevor Dristoll.
Angie found him in the sitting room standing at the tree in the same spot she’d seen him before. The room was deserted so she walked in.
“Trevor,” she squeezed the word out. The personal business touch she sought required using his Christian name. He turned at the sound of her voice and let the ornament fall back against the pine branch.
“Angie.” His voice held no sign of intimacy and it hurt in a deep emotional place, an inner state that suffocated close to death sin
ce the loss of her family. Loneliness was killing her from the inside out, and just when she’d imagined it possible to break loose; all hope had been snatched from her. Trevor would not be the one to rescue her from this inevitable fate. Her heart would surely die a second time.
“I looked over your dates and found two this year that worked.”
“You could have emailed me.”
Angie bit her lip to stop the quivering. “Touché. I’m sorry if I offended you earlier. It was not my intention.” Angie glanced toward the mantle. Perhaps the stocking could be her redemption and they could at least go back to being polite with one another. When his silent stare became uncomfortable she walked toward it.
He’d written her name in glittering bold letters against a red, felt stocking. She untied it from the line and glanced back at Trevor. He hadn’t moved.
“I’ll get my notes and meet you in your office in ten minutes. A better place to conduct our business.” He turned on his heels and left the room.
Angie stood with the stocking in hand and let the tears flow down her cheeks. This is what she’d settled for – a polite business relationship. Yet all she remembered was the kiss and the way his eyes drank her into his innermost soul. She hurried from the room and escaped inside what had become her prison. Throwing the stocking on the corner of her desk she fell exhausted into a swivel chair. Angie clicked on her computer and brought up the list of guests scheduled for the year. The two empty spots jumped out at her and she stared at the vacant line. It would help to fill up the vacancies on the roster and ensure the Inn a prosperous bottom line. But could she endure his return visit? Would it simply open the wound again and again as she ushered in her second Christmas season alone?
Christmas Owls in July (Ornamental Match Maker Series Book 19) Page 6