heart sank at the mention of her dad, who’d owned his store in downtown Bay Point for over twenty-five years. It had been a bone of contention between them ever since she was a little girl. Before she could interject, the woman continued to rain down comments.
“One day it was open, the next day it wasn’t. Odd.”
Sonya ignored the opportunity for an explanation. She felt a tinge of sadness, realizing that anybody who paid attention to the local gossip hounds knew that he’d lost the store due to his gambling debts.
But more than that, she was deeply ashamed of her father. Now that she was back, she realized that her negative feelings still loomed. In the past, she’d been able to work out her frustrations on the stage, but that was no longer an option. If she didn’t deal with them, she wouldn’t be able to move past the pain.
Trent clapped his hands and adjusted his tool belt, drawing all eyes back to the front of the room. Sonya could have kissed him. The only time she liked being the center of attention was when she was on stage.
Every now and then, as each woman introduced herself, Sonya stole glances at Trent. He listened patiently, his arms crossed loosely on his chest, as if he had all the time in the world. When the round-robin was complete, he moved around his worktable.
“Ladies, there are two things you need to be successful in this class. Number one, there’s the quick way to do things and there’s the right way to do things. The latter is always the best and safest choice. Number two, there’s a lot of dangerous equipment in this room, and I don’t want anyone touching it without permission.”
He leaned against the edge of the worktable, which must have been bolted to the floor because it didn’t budge. Beneath his jeans, she imagined tightly muscled thighs and calves. His powerful body radiated strength, drawing her forward in her seat, as if she couldn’t get enough of his words. In truth, she was enjoying the unobstructed view of him.
“During this class, you’re going to work on a large project and a small project,” he continued. “The large project could be at your own home or that of a friend or relative, and the smaller project will be done right here. There’s a list of project ideas in your syllabus that will start your brains turning. Please email me your project proposals by next Friday for approval.”
Violet raised her hand. “How are we going to know what tools we should be using or materials we should be buying for our projects?”
“Why don’t we all go shopping together at the local hardware store?” Sonya suggested amidst the concerned murmurs of the women.
Trent snapped his fingers. “Brilliant idea. Why didn’t I think of it myself?”
“Probably because most men hate to shop,” Sonya mused, and everyone burst out laughing.
Trent cast her an amused grin, and she was relieved that he’d taken her harmless comment in stride. He seemed to be the type of guy who would be patient with her and with everyone. He was easy on the eyes, too, and would provide some much-needed distraction on a weekly basis. Taking the class had been the right decision, and for the first time in a long while, she relaxed.
* * *
Trent locked the door to the workshop. Since his was the last class of the day, he’d been given a key. He wasn’t sure he’d call his first day of teaching a class a success, but at least he’d gotten through it.
He knew the name of the mysterious woman he’d collided with in the coffee shop. He also knew that was where the association would stay. There were a lot of pretty women in the class, which made it even stranger that Steve had shoved his duties on to him.
“On second thought,” Trent muttered under his breath, “it’s better this way.” While Trent preferred to date women who did not live in Bay Point, his brother held the opposite point of view. Steve’s scandalous relationships had gotten the Waterson family named dragged through the rumor mills more times than Trent cared to count.
He slung his backpack over his shoulder. After class, he’d been surrounded by his students, all jostling for attention, that he’d lost sight of Sonya. He wasn’t sure he could wait a week to see her again.
He’d instructed everyone to email him their contact info so he could send out a mass text message and email if he had to cancel class. He’d have Sonya’s info soon enough. What he didn’t know was if she was single.
The class lasted twelve weeks. That was plenty of time to get to know her in a setting that took the pressure off both of them. He felt certain there had to be a rule at the college that he couldn’t date the students he was teaching. The possibility almost made him want to quit, but then there would be practically no chance that he would see her again.
“Unless I decided to take up ballet,” he said to himself.
He’d read about athletes who did ballet as part of their exercise regimen, claiming the results were both physically challenging and therapeutic.
That kind of dancing just wasn’t for him. He was too wired most of the time and preferred to unwind with a cold bottle of beer and a fine woman at his side. The beer was easy to get. The woman? Not so much. Although, he sensed many of the women in his class would have gladly volunteered.
Lifting weights at the gym kept him healthy. Staying away from his brother kept him sane. And dreaming about falling in love with the perfect woman kept him hopeful.
He thought about Sonya, how her eyes had lit up with curiosity when he’d looked at her. He saw a flicker of hope there, too; he didn’t know what it meant, but he aimed to find out. Maybe his search was finally over. Maybe hers was just beginning. All he wanted at that moment was to discover the answers together.
When he reached the garage, he smiled. The sight of his motorcycle spelled freedom in his mind and in his heart. Riding was the ultimate escape. He became one with his bike, revving it up, driving it ever forward, bracing his body against the forces of the elements. He looked forward to every moment he spent on his classic motorcycle, and it was worth every penny he’d spent on it.
He took his black leather jacket out of his backpack and slipped it on. After making sure his backpack was secured, he put the key into the ignition, turned it and revved the engine. The low and raucous sound reverberated off the cement walls and echoed back into his ears. Although there weren’t too many vehicles in that section of the garage, he heard the beeping of an alarm.
He revved the engine a few more times, slipped on his helmet, fastened it and slowly backed out of the parking spot.
He’d parked on the third level of the four-story garage and was rounding the curve toward the second level when his stomach rumbled. He planned to grab a bite to eat and then take the Pacific Coast Highway to his home just outside of town.
His heart flapped like a caged bird in his chest when he spotted Sonya waving her arms above her head. While she didn’t appear to be hurt, she did need some kind of help and he was eager to assist.
He rode up alongside her and put his feet down on the pavement, stopping the cycle.
“What’s the trouble?”
There was little chance of her recognizing him with the flap down on his helmet, and when he spoke his words were slightly muffled.
She cupped her hand behind
