He’s the man she shouldn’t trust

But can’t resist...

Construction entrepreneur Trent Waterson has a passion for hard work, custom motorcycles...and the one woman in Bay Point who tries to avoid him. Former dancer Sonya Young is stunned to learn that her childhood home is in danger of being foreclosed. Even worse, Trent’s brother is trying to strike a deal for the property. Can Trent choose between family loyalty and their breathtaking chemistry?

HARMONY EVANS received the 2013 Romance Slam Jam Emma Award for Debut Author of the Year. Her first book, Lesson in Romance, garnered two RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award nominations in 2012. She currently resides in New York City. Visit her at www.harmonyevans.com.

Also By Harmony Evans

Lesson in Romance

Stealing Kisses

Loving Laney

When Morning Comes

Winning Her Love

Winning the Doctor

Winning Her Heart

Winning Her Forever

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Winning Her Forever

Harmony Evans

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08604-2

WINNING HER FOREVER

© 2018 Jennifer Jackson

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

“Are you scared?”

The delicious thrum of the motor against her inner thighs and the challenge in his voice made her close the gap between their bodies.

“Not a bit,” she assured him, even though her heart was in the pit of her stomach.

“Good, because I would never hurt you.”

At his words, her heart melted. His body heat radiated through his clothes, and his masculinity draped around him, heavy and comfortable. She sensed she could snuggle up in his arms, fall asleep and not have to worry about a thing.

How she wished she could sweep everything that kept her up at night away from her mind, replace it all with a man who would sweep her right off her feet. She wasn’t looking for it, but she’d never stopped hoping for a second chance at love.

She inched even closer, until... She could feel his abdomen tense up.

Oh, my, she thought with a lick of her lips.

His muscles were so deeply ridged it was as if she could climb a mountain and grab on to them so she wouldn’t fall.

“That’s better,” he said in a gruff tone. “Hold on as tight as you’d like. I won’t mind.”

She nodded, inhaling the scent of his leather jacket. She had visions of him wearing it and nothing else.

Dear Reader,

At first glance, Trent Waterson, a real estate mogul, and Sonya Young, a former professional ballerina, are an unlikely couple. They differ in family background and career choices. But they can agree on one thing: the moment they meet, they both feel a tug in their hearts toward one another, even if they don’t want to admit it.

Winning Her Forever is set in the fictional idyllic beach town of Bay Point, California. Stay tuned for Winning Her Holiday Love, my first holiday-themed novel. I appreciate your continued support.

Sincerely,

Harmony Evans

www.HarmonyEvans.com

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

Sonya headed toward the classroom listed on her registration form. The hall was quiet and empty, too quiet, in fact, and she wondered if she was in the right building. Her nerves crackled in anticipation of the evening ahead.

It felt surreal, and a little scary, to be back on a college campus, but it was just one of the many steps she’d taken to create a new life for herself.

When she reached the room, she tried the door, but it was locked. There was no sign posted on the glass, and no one inside. She leaned against the wall and dug out her phone, hoping for a last-minute email informing her that the room had been changed. While she was navigating to the application, the device shut off.

She recalled reading in her information packet that any class changes would be posted in the registrar’s office. She dropped her phone back into her canvas tote bag, dug around and groaned. In addition to forgetting to charge her phone, she had left the hard copy of the campus map at home.

Back outside, Sonya zipped up her lime-green rain jacket, ducked under her umbrella and glanced around. The Bay Point Community College campus was larger than she’d expected, and was bustling with students going to and from evening classes. There was a coffee shop near the parking lot. Maybe one of the baristas could give her directions to the registrar’s office.

She hurried toward it, weaving around puddles and dodging other students. By the time she arrived, the rain was slanting sideways. Afraid of getting her newly permed hair wet, she opened the door and stepped over the threshold into the coffee shop.

“Dumb thing,” she muttered as she struggled to retract her large pink-and-brown-polka-dotted umbrella.

“Hey, watch out!”

A man’s voice, bass-low and heavy with concern, washed over her.

She shook her head to reorient herself, pressed the button a few times, and after a long agonizing moment, the umbrella finally closed.

As she lowered it, her breath caught in her throat at the gorgeous man that stood in front of her, revealed like a game-show grand prize. His grim expression and now-empty paper cup in his hand led her to believe that all was not right in his world.

Her eyes widened at the large stain snow-flaking across the middle of his light blue T-shirt, no doubt caused by her.

“I’m sorry. My umbrella jammed. Are you hurt?”

The man furrowed his brow. “I’m fine.”

But she barely heard his words. Her thoughts were consumed with the desire to allow her fingers the freedom to graze the fabric plastered to his flat abdomen.

As a former ballet dancer, she had a deep appreciation for the beauty and majesty of the human body, especially the male form. And this particular man was ripe for tactile exploration. Faded dark blue jeans, paint-spattered construction boots and rampant tattoos over dark honey arms were all reasons for an extended pause.

He is hot, hot, hot.

He waved a hand in front of her face. “Are you okay?”

She jerked her chin up and her cheeks bloomed with heat at the amusement in his eyes. “Y-yes. I was just worried that you got burned.”

“No. Lucky for me, it was just very cold iced coffee.”

As she exhaled in relief, he smiled, displaying perfect white teeth.

“Lucky for you, I like surprises.”

Before she could think of a response, he pointed down at the floor between them. “Watch out.”

With her eyes still on his, she stepped back from the spreading liquid, and bumped into a pregnant woman trying to exit.

Sonya apologized and stepped closer to the man so the woman could pass. She was so embarrassed she almost joined the cluster of ice cubes melting on the floor.

“Do you come with a warning?”

“No. Do you?” she challenged.

He raised a brow, but it was hard to tell if he was irked or intrigued.

“Yeah, it’s called never argue with a pretty lady.”

Her mouth dropped open and another buzz of unexpected heat rose in her cheeks. The grin on his face seemed sincere, and that was the problem.

She didn’t feel pretty at that moment, just cold and lost, and she had no time for flirtation.

He seemed not to notice her response, and instead directed her with his hand, around the puddle and deeper into the store.

He touched her elbow. “Let’s move out of everyone’s way, shall we?”

Even through her rain jacket, a shock wave of pleasure went zinging through her veins like a ball in a pinball machine. Though she’d never seen this man before, his gentle guidance felt protective. But just as quickly, he released her. She watched as he slid a navy blue backpack off his shoulders and set it down on the counter. His large hands looked as if they could level three men with one punch, or caress her body with ease.

The loss of his brief touch left her feeling unsettled. He pulled out the chair next to his, and the sound of metal scraping against the tile floor brought her out of her daze.

Sonya let out a breath and joined him, but kept her messenger bag on.

Rain pelted the window in a torrential, thunderous downpour. The noise level in the shop elevated as people hurried inside to escape the weather.

“Looks like we’re stuck here together for a while.”

She worried her lip, knowing that further delays would not help the fact that she didn’t know the location of her class.

“Could my night get any worse?”

His laugh was deep and genuine. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that comment from a woman.”

Sonya frowned at his audacious statement, which smacked of the type of egoism she’d grown up with in her own family and had eventually escaped.

She took a step closer to him, to the outer fringes of his personal space. His rough-and-ready aura felt familiar, almost cozy. Every fiber of her being wanted to step back again, but she held her ground.

“I’m sorry I made you spill your coffee, but I’ve had a really rough day, and I don’t need the sarcasm.”

She ignored his sardonic grin, dug into her messenger bag and dropped a crumpled five-dollar bill on the counter.

“I hope this covers your loss.”

He looked over at it, then back at her and his smile faded.

“Put your money away. I don’t need it.”

His sharp tone was like a switch, instantly flooding her face with embarrassment. She had the sense he was offended she’d even made the gesture, and now she wished she hadn’t.

She steadied her voice. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

She cupped her palm over the bill and stuffed it back into her bag.

His eyes, a deep chocolate-brown flecked with green, sought hers. Though he was a stranger, she couldn’t help but be drawn into the sphere of his intense gaze.

“I could wash your shirt for you,” she offered, only half kidding.

“Then I’d have to take it off,” he said grimly.

That’s the whole point, she thought.

Her lips began to tilt out a smile, but she forced them back into a straight line. He raised his brow, as if he’d read her mind, and a searing flame of attraction lit up her insides.

“Actually, I’m more worried about you. Are you sure you’re all right? You do look a little frazzled.”

She reached up and patted her shoulder-length curls. “You mean, frizzled, right?”

His laughter made her glow in all the places it shouldn’t. It felt honest and real and warm, not patronizing or unappreciative. She had a feeling that he was the kind of guy who wouldn’t care if she showed up at his door sans makeup or clothes.

“As a matter of fact, I’m lost,” she admitted.

“Oh? Are you a new student here?”

“Trying to be. I went to the assigned classroom on my registration form, but no one was there and no sign was posted. There has to be some mistake.”

“Maybe it was canceled?”

She frowned. “I hope not. Anyway, can you point me in the direction of the registrar’s office?”

The rain had slowed, so they ventured outside. He put his umbrella up and motioned her to join him.

He was broad-shouldered, and she barely fit under the umbrella as she sidled up next to him. He smelled faintly of sawdust and spice, making her think of crisp autumn leaves and a crackling, roaring fire. The barest hint of a dark shadow, apparent on his strong angled jaw, suited him.

He switched the handle of the umbrella to his other hand and pointed the way. His knuckles appeared slightly rough and her eyes traced the sinew of his muscled forearm up to where the fabric of his T-shirt stretched to accommodate his massive bicep. He emanated the kind of outward strength that a man couldn’t get from hours at the gym or behind a desk, but only from years of hard work.

As he gave her directions, his voice rumbled through her ears on a wave of authority and could probably make the most mundane topics sound exciting. If only she could listen to him, over and over again.

If only his arm was draped around her shoulders, tugging her closer and closer.

If only...

She sucked in a breath and woke up from her momentary daydream with a pleasurable tug in her loins and the knowledge that he was the cause.

“Thanks for the info.” She ducked out from under his umbrella and opened up her own. “I better get going, so I’m not late.”

His gaze lingered, agitating the butterflies already swirling in her stomach.

“See you again soon?”

Sonya shrugged, mumbled another thanks and left in a hurry, before she forgot the directions to the office.

See him again?

Not a chance.

She didn’t really have a type, but if she did, a T-shirt, tattoos and old work boots kind of guy wasn’t high on her list, even though he looked divine in all three. Yet a part of her longed to stay and sweep the edge of her knuckles gently against the planes of his bristled jaw, just to see if this rough-hewn man would shiver under her touch.

* * *

Why didn’t I get her name?

Trent gripped his umbrella and watched the beautiful woman hurry away. She seemed to glide along the slick wet pavement, lending a sense of elegance to her black old-school ankle-high sneakers.

Dark blue skinny jeans molded her slender hips and long legs. Her long neck reminded him of a swan, one of his favorite animals. When he was in college, he’d taken a zoology class and learned that swans mated for life. He had been fascinated with them ever since.

The green rain slicker zipped up high hid everything else, but he had a feeling he would like what was underneath, just as she seemed to like him.

His parents, whom he loved dearly, would soon celebrate their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Despite their insistence that he settle down, he wasn’t in a rush. Someday, he hoped to find a woman to love and protect for a lifetime. If the right woman stepped into his life, he wasn’t sure if he could make the leap from bachelor to husband. It was the permanence of marriage and the statistics of divorce that frightened him more than the fear of being alone for the rest of his life.

Like a cold engine, relationships were tricky to start, and even harder to keep going. Up until now, he hadn’t had the patience or the time.

But this woman, she was different.

The luminous glow of her caramel toned face would no doubt stay in his mind for a long time. The undercurrent of seriousness in her demeanor was equally attractive, although he had no idea the reason behind it.

The offer to launder his shirt had surprised and delighted him. This woman was a giver, not a taker. He could feel it.

The sense that he’d lost something he didn’t know he could have had grew stronger as she disappeared into the college’s nondescript administrative building.

He always made the first move, but this time he hadn’t. Big mistake.

He retracted his umbrella and looped his arms through the straps of his backpack. If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late, too. His heavy boots slapped against the cement as he walked toward Reed Hall, inhaling the rain-fresh air into his lungs.

He pinched the bottom of his T-shirt, wicking it away from his skin. He needed to change the thing before doing anything else.

When he got to the building, he ducked into a nearby men’s room and looked in the mirror. The shirt wasn’t the problem. He always kept an extra one or two in his backpack because getting dirty was just part of his job. He was a simple man, who liked to be prepared for anything.

When he got thirsty, he drank. On a hot day, he’d been known to unscrew the cover of his five-gallon water jug and pour the whole thing over his head. That was why he always carried two in his pickup truck.

When he got hungry, he ate. He eschewed all types of red meat, in favor of fish and vegetables.

And when he got lonely, his contact list was full of women to choose from. Sometimes, he’d scroll for one. Make a hit. Roll over and say goodbye.

Lately, he wanted more substance in his relationships. Not an immediate yes, and certainly not a please yes. He loved the thrill and the challenge of the chase, because it was something he could control and build upon.

Day by day, night by night, fight by fight.

That exquisite internal yearning. Not knowing if he was on a woman’s mind, even though she occupied his, or whether she truly wanted to be with him and him alone.

He glanced into the mirror, and could see the need and loneliness in his eyes. The wet shirt wasn’t the problem. The beautiful mystery lady was the real shock to his system, and he wanted more of her, and he had no idea how to find her. Maybe he should have been a detective rather than a builder.

Trent changed into a dry shirt and washed his hands, ignoring the sudden cramp in his stomach. Being nervous did not mesh with his normal levelheaded demeanor.

He liked to build things and tear them down. As part owner of Waterson Builders, one of the largest construction and real-estate companies in Bay Point, he got paid to do both. Working his craft was easy, but trying to teach it? He was still trying to figure out why he’d agreed to stimulate adult female minds with the basics of home repair.

His older brother, Steve, the other half of the family company, was originally scheduled to teach the class. Trent smirked in the mirror, recalling how Steve had called him last night and begged him to take his place. His brother might be a pain in the ass, but he was no fool. The only reason he had asked Trent to step in was because he knew that he would say yes.

He shook his head and though he was tired of bailing his brother out, family was numero uno. His parents had drilled that into his head ever since he was a kid.

Steve, who was quite selfish and preferred to be in the spotlight, hadn’t gotten the message. Unlike his brother, Trent would rather be in the bucket seat of a dozer.

He pushed his family issues to another corner of his mind and opened the door to the woodworking shop. The chatter in the room immediately stopped, and when he saw who was in the first row of worktables, so did his heart.

Chapter 2

“Welcome to Everyday Repairs for Women. I’m Trent Waterson, your instructor.”

Sonya’s mouth dropped open and she almost did a double take as he thumped his backpack down onto the old wooden desk at the front of the room.

The man from the coffee shop was her teacher?

He’d changed into a plain white cotton shirt. Though it appeared worn, on him it looked as though it had cost hundreds of dollars.

He scanned the room with a friendly expression on his face. There was no outward indication that he recognized her. Her heart sank with disappointment. They’d only met fifteen minutes earlier. While she didn’t expect him to jump up and say hallelujah, was she that forgettable?

“If you’ve come here to learn how to fix things, you’re in the right place,” he continued, palms flattened on the desk. “Though I must warn you, this class will probably not be as exciting as some of the home-improvement shows you may have seen on television, but I do promise you’ll have fun.”

Sonya detected a hint of a tremor in his authoritative voice, and she looked around the room, wondering if anyone else had heard it, too.

The faces of her classmates were frozen in rapt attention, hanging on the edge of his next word, and she held back a grin. Mr. Waterson must have been the reason for the long waitlist. Lucky for her, a spot had opened up.

Turning her attention to the front of the room, she found the possibility that he might be even a tiny bit nervous very intriguing. It made him as real as the muscles she’d felt on his abdomen, and the spark of attraction she’d felt between them.

Violet, a diminutive light-skinned woman with purple tinged strands in her close-cropped jet-black hair nudged her arm.

“Didn’t I tell you he was gorgeous?” she whispered low.

Before Sonya could nod in agreement, another poke followed, this time harder.

“Too bad he’s a heartbreaker.”

“Ow, girl!” Sonya exclaimed and jerked her body away so fast that she almost fell off the old iron bar stool. Violet’s comment had piqued her interest about the man, but she wasn’t keen on believing gossip. If she ever got the chance, she would ask him outright.

Trent raised a brow at their antics. His gaze laser-focused on her and by the sudden flutter in her heart, there was no question now that he recognized her.

“Ladies, is there a problem?”

“Are you trying to get us into trouble?” Sonya hissed out of the corner of her mouth.

She wanted to slide like a cartoon character straight to the woodshop floor with embarrassment.

“No worries,” Violet whispered back. “I got you, girl. Let me handle this.”

Violet raised her hand. “What happened?”

“The other Mr. Waterson couldn’t make it, so I guess you’re stuck with me.” He looked about the room. “Is that okay?”

While heads were nodding, Sonya inched her hand up as he zipped his backpack open.

“Just for tonight?”

“Just for forever,” he replied with a grin that felt like it was meant only for her. “Or rather the twelve weeks that this class will be in session.”

Forever.

What would that feel like, look like, with a guy as handsome as Trent Waterson? The only thing missing was a tool belt around his waist. When he dug around in his bag, brought one out and hooked it on, it was like an invisible genie had heard her secret wish.

Sporadic applause broke out and Sonya lowered her hand. Smiles widened from the windows to the chalkboard, as if he’d just presented them all with sparkling diamond rings.

He’ll cause mass depression if he ever calls in sick.

Sonya glanced around the workshop filled with scary-looking equipment. Her nose twitched, detecting the scent of sawdust and burnt tires. The whitewashed cinderblock walls were smudged in places with something she hoped was dirt. This wasn’t the ideal place for romantic daydreams.

Her eyes shifted to the front of the room where Trent was taking a sheaf of papers out of his backpack.

“Let me tell you a little bit about myself. My brother and I are joint owners of a local construction and real-estate company, and if you mention his name in my classroom, you’ll earn yourself an instant F.”

He sounded as if he was kidding, but Sonya wanted to be sure, so she raised her hand again.

“Mr. Waterson. This is a non-credit course and there are no grades. It is pass or fail.”

He consulted a folder on the desk and frowned. “You’re right. I was mistaken. You’ll simply fail.”

The class fell silent, and though his tone was still lighthearted, she sensed that the rivalry between Trent and his brother was not.

Sonya felt her nerves start to percolate as Trent moved around the room, handing out the syllabus to every woman.

Her anxiety seemed to increase as he got closer and closer to her. When he reached her worktable, he gave one syllabus to Violet and then turned to Sonya.

“Glad you finally found your way.”

His fingertips brushed against hers, and their slight roughness titillated her senses again. Her insides whirled, still in shock that she was even in the same room with him so soon. Their encounter had been brief, but he’d made a lasting impression on her.

As he walked away, she felt dizzy and clasped one hand on the corner of the wooden table to keep from swooning.

Violet leaned over and whispered, “You know him?”

Sonya heard a note of concern in Violet’s tone, which both intrigued and touched her. Having just moved back into town after many years away, she needed a friend, one that cared, but hopefully wasn’t too nosy.

“No, not really,” she responded in a low tone. “I just saw him around on campus.”

Back at the front of the room, Trent placed his massive hands, palms down, on the table.

“Now that I’ve told you a little bit about me, I want to hear about you. Let’s start at the front,” he said, pointing at her.

Sonya smiled inwardly at the chorus of groans among the women, heartened that she wasn’t the only one who hated to talk in front of a group of strangers. Still, she was tickled that he’d chosen her to go first.

“I’m Sonya Young and I grew up in Bay Point. I just moved back about three months ago. I’m a former dancer with the San Francisco Ballet. I’m in the process of opening up a dance studio at the corner of Seascape Drive, right across from the beach.”

She exhaled slowly and hoped the confidence in her voice didn’t sound as forced as it felt inside.

One of the women exclaimed, “Wonderful. My daughter has always wanted to take ballet. Will you have lessons for children?”

Sonya cleared her throat. Though she loved to dance, the ending of her career was still too new, and too raw. She had plenty of savings, so there was no need to rush the opening of the studio. She was also still questioning her decision and needed time to make sure it was right.

“Children and adults. I’m not sure when I’ll be opening. I’m working on launching my studio website, so there will be more details soon.”

If ever, she told herself.

“Oh, it’s unfortunate that’s it’s not open right now,” the woman responded.

“Is that the storefront that’s had the Grand Opening Soon sign in the window for over a month?” asked another woman in the back of the room.

Sonya shifted in her stool and tossed a glance over her shoulder.

“Yes. I plan on opening soon. There’s a lot to do.” The list of tasks, like design and decorating, marketing and advertising left her with knots in her stomach most days. It was so overwhelming that she continually procrastinated on most, or left others half-completed.

Sonya blamed her own fears as the primary reason for the delay. Making the leap from a career in the arts to opening a small business was scary, but she was determined to be successful.

At least now she’d be in control of her own destiny.

“Hurry up, honey, the butts and thighs of Bay Point need you,” Violet chirped.

The room erupted in laughter and there were nods of agreement among the women.

“Hey, I recognize your last name,” a third woman piped up. “Your father owned a jewelry store, didn’t he?”

Sonya’s 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 her ear. “What? I can’t hear you.”

He unbuckled the strap of his helmet and lifted it off his head.

“And you thought you’d never see me again.”

Her eyes widened. “Hiding again, Mr. Waterson?”

“What do you mean?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “You never told me you were a teacher when I spilled coffee all over you.”

“How could I? I didn’t know you were going to be my student.”

He revved his engine by habit, and she clapped her hands over her ears.

“Don’t you like motorcycles?”

She shook her head and frowned. “Not particularly.”

Trent looked behind him and saw a car turning the corner and heading his way. He pedaled the cycle out of the way and turned off the engine.

“Why not?”

She dropped her hands to her sides.

“They’re dangerous and loud, and the guys who ride them are usually trouble.”

He laughed. “They are only dangerous in the wrong hands.”

“I’m glad we agree on something.”

“You think I’m trouble, huh?”

Sonya edged out a smile. “You could be.”

“Thank you. I take that as a compliment. Now, what seems to be the trouble?”

She pointed to a little red convertible. “My car won’t start.”

He hopped off his bike and whistled. “She’s a beauty, and I’m not just talking about the car.

“That’s a pretty rare model, dating back to the late 1960s, correct? How do you happen to own one?”

“My father gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday.”

“Very nice.”

He heard the pride in her voice and it pleased him. It wasn’t often that he met a woman who had an interest in cars, other than as a way of getting from point A to point B.

“It was a bribe to try and get me to major in business administration in college.”

“From the look on your face, I’m gathering it didn’t work.”

“No, I majored in dance and enjoyed every minute of it.”

“The color suits you.”

“Thank you, I just wish it would start.”

“Did you call for a tow?”

She shook her head. “No. My phone is dead and besides, this requires a flatbed truck.”

“Hand over the keys and let me try.”

She turned toward her tiny car and then back, sizing him up. “Are you sure you’ll fit?”

A smile crossed his lips. “Worth a try, isn’t it?”

She gave him a keychain that had a miniature cable car dangling from it. By the weight of it, he could tell it was pure silver.

“Okay. Give it a shot.”

He opened the door and sat down, but his long legs wouldn’t fit. “Snug.”

“You might want to adjust the seat.”

“Right.”

He pushed the seat back as far as it would go. His knees were still cramped, but the fit of his six-foot-two frame was much better. He depressed the clutch with his right foot, stuck the key in the ignition and turned.

“Not even a click,” Trent muttered.

“Told you so,” she said, and couldn’t help giggling. “Would you do me a favor and call for a flatbed tow?”

“I know just the guy for the job.”

He tugged his phone out of his jacket pocket and put it to his ear.

“How soon can he be here?” she asked after he ended the call.

“Five or ten minutes. He’s already in the area.”

He got out of her vehicle and dropped the keys into her upturned palm.

“After he’s done, I’ll be happy to give you a ride home.”

She gave him a wary look. “On that thing?”

Trent patted the seat. “Hey, you’re talking about my best friend. Don’t worry. We’ll both treat you with the utmost care.”

A grateful smile crossed her face, but her eyes were still distrustful. “Thanks, but I’m not sure I’ll feel safe on a motorcycle. I’ve never ridden on one before.”

Trent felt his heart pound against his chest, and he wondered why he felt a sudden need to change her mind. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have cared. Why Sonya?

“I carry around a spare helmet, just for special occasions like these.”

“Special?”

“Yes. It’s not often I’m in the position to offer a trade.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ride for ride. I give you a ride home on my sexy bike and you take me for a ride in your sexy convertible.”

She paused and seemed to consider his offer. “Promise you won’t go too fast?”

He held out his hand. “Deal. Let’s shake on it.”

Sonya took it, and he loosened up a little on his powerful grip so he wouldn’t hurt her. He wished he didn’t have to let go of her hand, but he did.

The tow truck arrived, and Trent helped the driver load up her car. When they were alone again, he opened up the case strapped to the back of his cycle that held two full-faced helmets. He picked up the spare and held it out to her.

“Go ahead, try it on. You’re actually the first person to wear it.”

“The fit is snug,” she said. Her voice sounded muffled and a little bit fearful behind the visor. “Like it was made for me.” Her hands trembled as she tried to fasten the strap underneath her chin.

“Allow me.”

He fastened the strap and then flipped open the clear plastic visor.

“Your eyes are lovely, so to protect them from the wind and dust, be sure to put this back down again before we take off.”

She nodded and gripped his wrist. “What do I do now?”

He glanced back at her and grinned. “Climb aboard, hold on and don’t let go.”

She hesitated for a few moments, and he could almost see the wheels of decision turning in her brain. He wondered if she was a risk-taker, or was she one of those women who questioned everything?

When she settled in behind him and held on tight, he breathed an audible sigh of relief. A smile of triumph crossed his face, and he allowed himself to hope, after the ride was over, that he would see her again.

Chapter 3

Sonya straddled the seat and took her place behind Trent. Though her muscles were limber from years of dancing and yoga, the simple movement felt foreign to her. The rumble of the motorcycle’s engine vibrated throughout her body. It seemed to hone in on her loins, adding to her excitement.

I must be nuts, she thought, but it was time to reclaim her life.

She’d defied her father’s wishes and left Bay Point when she was seventeen years old. Their relationship, already on shaky ground, had deteriorated completely. Since then, she’d avoided taking risks in her personal and private life. Over time, she had suffered a few injuries due to the strenuous training and performance schedule. The decision to teach had been hard, but it was necessary if she wanted to continue in her profession. She’d also found the courage to end a relationship with a man that had run its course and was going nowhere.

When she moved back to Bay Point, she’d vowed to find a way to forget about her past and get back to focusing on her new life. If part of the process was a motorcycle ride from her instructor, then so be it.

“Get a little closer, will you? I don’t want you to fall off.”

She touched her helmet and scooted forward, keeping their bodies only a couple inches apart. She placed one hand and then the other on each side of Trent’s waist. Her lips lifted into a tiny smile. Holding on to Trent from behind felt safer somehow. He couldn’t see the pleasure on her face, and she didn’t want him to know how much she enjoyed touching him. Once again, she wished she could slip her hands under his shirt so she could finally feel his skin.

“All set,” she said loudly, so he could hear her over the engine.

Without warning, the motorcycle lurched forward, crushing her breasts against his back. Her arms looped around his waist and briefly settled on the tops of his hips, before she jerked them away.

“Hold on,” Trent commanded in a gruff tone without looking back. “I don’t want any accidents.”

“I will, and there won’t be any, as long as you go slow,” she retorted.

“I have to start moving in order to slow down, don’t I?”

She couldn’t respond. She was too busy trying to resist the urge to lay her cheek against the middle of his back, where the leather stretched over his shoulder blades.

He glanced over his right shoulder, a slight grin on his lips, as he revved the engine again. “Are you scared?”

The delicious thrum of the motor against her inner thighs and the challenge in his voice made her close the gap between their bodies.

“Not a bit,” she assured him, even though her heart was in the pit of her stomach.

“Good, because I would never hurt you.”

At his words, her heart melted. His body heat radiated through his clothes, and his masculinity draped around him, heavy and comfortable. She sensed she could snuggle up in his arms, fall asleep and not have to worry about a thing.

How she wished she could sweep everything that kept her up at night away from her mind, replace them all with a man that would sweep her right off her feet. She wasn’t looking for it, but she never stopped hoping for a second chance at love.

She inched even closer, until her... She could feel his abdomen tense up.

Oh, my, she thought, with a lick of her lips.

His muscles were deeply ridged. It was as if she could climb a mountain and grab on to them so she wouldn’t fall.

“That’s better,” he said in a gruff tone. “Hold on as tight as you’d like. I won’t mind.”

She nodded, inhaling the scent of his leather jacket. She had visions of him wearing it, and nothing else.

“Would you like to join me for a burger? It’s way past my dinnertime and I’m starving.”

She pursed her lips. “I thought you were going to take me home.”

“I will, right after we eat.”

She gave him a reluctant shrug, even as her curiosity to learn more about him was getting stronger.

“I don’t have much choice, do I? You’ve got me captured.”

He turned around. “I get the feeling that if you didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t be.

“Then again, maybe it’s just fate,” she interjected.

He grinned and revved the engine. “You can tell me where you live when we get to the restaurant. I’m shy and I don’t know how to make conversation.”

She didn’t ask him where they were going, allowing him to take the lead and surprise her. The college was located east of Bay Point in a residential neighborhood, and the dining options were limited to fast food and strip-mall takeout.

She figured the most likely destination was downtown Bay Point, which, much to her delight, had been revitalized in recent years with an influx of new restaurants and shops. Most of which she’d been too busy to try.

When they reached Magnolia Avenue, which led west to downtown Ocean Avenue, Bay Point’s version of Main Street, Trent hooked a left and continued east. The road and the area was unfamiliar territory to Sonya, but she felt perfectly safe with Trent.

Tiny stars were just beginning to pop in the twilight sky as they rode silently through the moist autumn air. She wanted to open the flap of her helmet to smell the fresh air, but she didn’t dare let go of Trent.

What does a man think about when he’s totally alone? Wearing his helmet made her feel close to him, even though his thoughts and feelings were unknown to her. She was glad to have it.

About ten minutes later, they turned onto a gravel driveway. The roadside bar had no sign. Motorcycles and pickup trucks cluttered the parking lot. In the windows were colorful neon images of a martini glass, a bottle of champagne with the cork exploding and a frothy mug of beer.

In spite of the place’s quirky appearance, Sonya’s anticipation grew as Trent angled his cycle into a space. Before she knew what was happening, he was off the bike, and she took his hand as he assisted her.

She removed her helmet, handed it to him, and he put them both in the case and locked it.

She brushed her fingers through her flattened curls to bring them back to life.

The front door of the bar opened, and a man half walked, half stumbled out on the raucous notes of a classic rock tune from a jukebox.

He held the door open for the couple. “Enter, beautiful ones!”

Sonya blushed. Although she appreciated the compliment, the guy was obviously drunk.

“Thanks, man,” Trent said, a smile on his face. “Do you need a ride home?”

“Nope. Rocky took my keys and called me a cab.”

Trent patted the guy on the shoulder. “Good. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

They stepped over the threshold and heads turned.

“Hey, Rocky, got a table for two weary travelers?”

The bartender nodded and pointed to a dark corner. Many in the attractive, diverse crowd shouted hello and waved in their direction as they walked to the back of the restaurant.

Sonya nudged his elbow and he leaned in so close she could smell his aftershave. “Do you know everyone here?”

He put his arm around her as they shuffled through a glut of people dancing. “No, but they know me, apparently.”

Sonya wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Could it have to do with him being a so-called heartbreaker? She made a mental note to ask him later.

Trent pulled out one of the old bentwood chairs so that she could be seated first, impressing her with his old-school chivalry. The table was scarred with a variety of initials carved into the polished wood, and a couple of quotes that made her cheeks get hot.

“Are you sure we’re going to get out of here alive?” she asked, only half joking.

“You are perfectly safe here with me. I got you here, didn’t I?”

She arched a brow and folded her arms.

“I didn’t have much choice, did I?”

He reached over and lifted her chin with the pad of his thumb.

“Yes, you did. And in my opinion, you chose wisely.”

A waitress came by and dropped off a couple of menus and two waters, heavy on the ice.

Trent sat back in his seat as the woman stood there pen in hand. “Everything is good here, but I prefer the veggie burger and fries. Sound good?”

Sonya made a point to peruse the selections, even though his choices were not unlike something she’d choose for herself on a Friday night of fun when she didn’t have a performance.

Before she could nod in agreement, Trent gave the waitress their orders and Sonya reluctantly gave up her menu.

When they were alone, Trent frowned, as if he’d just realized his mistake. “I’m sorry. I should have given you more time.”

Sonya tapped one finger on her lips. “Let me guess. You’re the kind of guy who acts first and begs forgiveness later.”

“Bingo. Would you call that being arrogant or bold?”

“Will I get an F if I tell the truth?”

“No, but will it make you feel better if I told you this was the first time I’ve ever taught a class? I’m making this up as I go along. You won’t tell, will you?”

She shook her head. “I guess we’ve both had a rough first day.”

“I do want to thank you for suggesting the hardware store field trip. It really makes sense.”

“You’re welcome.”

An attractive man in a green-and-white button-down shirt and blue jeans stopped by their table. Without asking, he dropped in the space next to Sonya and turned toward her.

“Excuse me, beautiful. I don’t mean to intrude, but I’ve got an important question for your man.”

Before speaking, he’d taken a second to wave his left hand, the one bearing his gold wedding band, in front of her face. In her opinion, he was either very devoted to his wife, or feeling guilty for cheating.

Her eyes caught Trent’s and he gave a rueful shake of his head as he introduced them.

“Don’t mind this clown, Sonya. Dario is an old buddy of mine that I allow to tread on my last nerve,” Trent replied good-naturedly.

“When are you going to lower the prices on those homes in that new development of yours, Waterson, so that guys like me can afford them? I’m tired of my wife nagging me about it.”

Dario’s face registered no emotion, so Sonya couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious.

Trent, on the other hand, seemed as uncomfortable as she had been when she’d first walked into the bar, like a stranger among friends.

“How much do the homes go for?” she asked.

“They start at a million and go up from there,” Trent replied in a nonchalant tone.

“The base price of a Waterson home gets you four walls, a doorbell and that’s about it,” Dario replied.

Trent leaned back in his chair and shrugged his shoulders. “Welcome to the world of custom homes. Everything is an add-on.”

Though Trent’s words sounded good, his friend didn’t appear convinced. In fact, he looked even angrier.

“You know that I don’t set the prices. My brother and my father do. I just build the houses to spec, on budget and on time.”

“You’re starting to sound like a salesperson. You know I’ll never be able to buy one of your mega mansions, especially now.”

Dario slammed one fist on the table and she jumped. A trickle of sweat ran down her spine as bad memories flooded her brain.

The tables were very close together, and Dario was blocking her only way out. The sense that she was trapped made her light-headed, and she knew she needed some fresh air right away.

She braced her right hand on the table and tried to stand up. “Excuse me, please.”

Trent’s palm closed over her hand, and she hitched in a breath. The warmth from his skin forced her to concentrate on his touch, instead of her panic. He mouthed the words, It’s okay, motioning with his chin for her to sit back down, so she did.

Trent leaned in close and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry you were laid off from your job recently, but I’m a regular guy, just like you.”

Dario folded his arms. “Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”

Trent caught Sonya’s eye before speaking.

“Don’t go spreading this around town, but I believe we’re looking into building homes with a lower price point. If that happens, you’ll be the first to know. We’ll be hiring local workers.”

Trent’s words diffused the tense situation, and the men shook hands. Dario tipped an imaginary hat toward Sonya and then left.

“Was that guy a friend or an enemy?”

Trent glanced over at the bar, where Dario saluted him with a full mug of beer, and back at her.

“I wish I knew.”

“So guys have frenemies, too?” she chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah.” He paused. “Can I ask you a question? You nearly hit the ceiling when he pounded on the table. I’m sorry that Dario’s actions startled you.”

He paused a beat, as if he expected her to explain.

“It just surprised me, that’s all.”

She didn’t want Trent to think she was being overly sensitive, and it was too soon to talk about the reasons for her reactions.

She cupped her hand over her mouth and faked a yawn. “He definitely woke me up.”

“I think there’s more, but I’m going to let it go for now. Anyway, I’m sorry for the interruption. My brother makes me a lot of money, but he also causes me a lot of trouble. He’s not the easiest man to like, or to defend.”

“Aren’t you a co-owner?”

“My father gave us equal control, but I’m more comfortable in a bulldozer than in the boardroom.”

Sonya felt that invisible jolt inside when one connected with a kindred spirit.

She’d felt the same way when she was a ballerina. She didn’t want to be bothered with the business side of things; she just wanted to dance.

“Are you really going to build more affordable housing?”

Trent folded his arms and rested them on the table.

“Let me put it to you this way. I think we should. But that doesn’t mean we will. The only thing my father and brother care about is making money.”

“And what about you?” she asked. “What do you care about?”

“Building custom homes that allow families to live their lives in a safe, secure community.”

“Sounds like a viable mission statement.”

“The difference is that I believe it and work it every day.”

“Maybe I’ll get to meet your brother one day.”

“No, you won’t. I want to keep you all to myself.”

“Now who is being selfish?” she teased back.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asked.

She took a sip of beer. “I’m an only child.”

“Are you a little emperor?” he teased, referring to the stereotype that only children were selfish because they had no siblings and never learned to share.

“No, but I’m the master of my own destiny.”

“And what do you see in your future?”

She tapped her index finger on her lips. His question took her by surprise. Since high school, she’d had her life mapped out. Her plan had been to graduate from college, audition for a major dance organization, be accepted and spend the rest of her life onstage, retire early and then teach.

Somewhere along the way, as reoccurring injuries kept her sidelined, causing her to lose some key roles, she was forced to face a new reality. She knew that audiences were fickle, but didn’t know that they could make or break a season. Many of her friends had gone on to other careers, because being a dancer simply wasn’t sustainable. She never thought she’d be one of them, but here she was, back in Bay Point, living in her father’s house.

“Let me see. I’d like to pass your class and get home in one piece, does that count?”

“I have it on good authority that both will come true.”

“Are you a magic genie?”

He laughed. “No, just a man who has complete confidence.”

After they finished their meal, Sonya excused herself to use the restroom while Trent paid the check. Outside, she gave him directions to her home. When he tried to help her with the helmet, she nudged his hand away.

“I think I can do this by myself now.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Suit yourself.”

Sonya noted the hint of disappointment in his voice and figured that a man with his reputation wasn’t used to having a woman say no. She wasn’t helpless, just confused about all the feelings swirling inside of her.

When they arrived, she got off the motorcycle and handed him the helmet.

His eyes scanned over her house. “You’ve got a couple of shingles missing off your roof.”

She followed his gaze, wondering how he’d spotted them, as she hadn’t seen them before.

“I actually need to have the entire house inspected—inside and out.”

“I can give you a few names to call, if you’d like.”

“I’d appreciate that. Thanks for the ride, and for the dinner.”

“It was my pleasure. When can I see you again?”

“Next week. Outside the hardware store, remember?”

He winked. “You’re lucky I’m a very patient man.”

As she watched him drive away into the night, she murmured, “You’re going to be waiting a while.”

As long as she kept this gorgeous man at arm’s length, she could continue to figure out how she was going to live the rest of her life. Not as a dancer on a stage, but like a regular person.

No applause, no curtain calls and no encores.

Chapter 4

Trent groaned aloud as he pulled into the parking lot, wishing he could turn around and go somewhere he really wanted to be.

He drove past his reserved spot in the front of the two-story glass-walled building, a contemporary 1980s monstrosity that housed their multi-million dollar construction and real-estate business. He didn’t like his family to see when he arrived, and he preferred to leave without notice.

He waved to a barista smoking a cigarette as he parked his pickup truck in the back of the building.

The family rented out the first floor to an independent coffee shop, and their offices were on the second floor.

They also owned and leased space in two equally large office buildings of the same contemporary style on either side.

He stayed away from the office as much as he could, but every week he had to attend a staff meeting.

Even though it was the middle of the morning, Trent grabbed an espresso before taking the elevator to the second floor. He’d rather be at the other end of a dental drill than at the weekly staff meeting or, even better, spending time with Sonya.

Trent chuckled to himself, and could hardly believe he was actually looking forward to teaching the home repair class, rather than dreading it.

He was still smiling as he pulled open the glass doors to the office. His brother, who was chatting with the receptionist, shot Trent a look of disdain.

“Couldn’t you have changed your shoes before coming to the office?”

Trent glanced down at his muddy construction boots.

“I wanted to install a shower in the office, but you decided you needed your own personal bathroom with a full-length mirror and a jetted tub.”

Steve spread his arms and grinned. “I’m here in the office so much it’s practically my second home. Too bad I can’t say the same for you. Where have you been? I was trying to reach you all night.”

“I was busy having a life. You could take notes from me.”

Steve was older than Trent by two years, but he’d been blessed with a baby face complemented by dark caramel skin, which made him scorned by most men and desired by many women. It was his job to scout and acquire land for custom-home projects. On the side, he bought foreclosed and distressed properties for rehabbing and reselling, which fueled his habit for designer clothes, luxury cars and lavish vacations around the world.

“Ha ha. But seriously, I need you to hop on a plane to New Mexico.”

Trent almost spit out his coffee. “What? Are you nuts?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know that we’re planning on expanding our portfolio to Albuquerque. I need you to go there and look at a plot of land.”

“Sorry, no can do.”

“Why not?”

“First of all, you know I can’t stand flying. Second, I would never leave my projects halfway done, and last, I’ve got a class to teach.”

“What class?”

Trent shot him a look, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Oh, that one. Can’t you skip it?”

“Like you did? Not a chance.”

Steve patted him on the back. “I knew you could handle it, little bro.”

They walked into the conference room where Lawrence and Agnes Waterson were already seated at opposite heads of the table.

His father was on a phone call, so Trent just shook his hand, and then he walked to the other end of the table to reach his mother.

He kissed her on the cheek. “Hello, Mom. Sorry I’m late.”

Agnes Waterson, from whom he’d inherited his dark honey complexion, had just turned fifty and was an important balance of reason and influence in her testosterone-heavy clan. The petite self-ascribed people person enjoyed serving others in her role as director of marketing and human resources. She loved to spruce up the company’s headquarter offices.

She returned a warm smile. “Good to see you. I heard you and your brother talking outside.”

“Yes, he was asking me to fly, and he knows I hate to fly, and besides, I don’t have the time.”

“Come on, Mother,” Steve cut in. “Even though I’m the first born, you always loved Trent more and thought he was a perfect little angel. He’s got to have wings hiding underneath all that muscle somewhere.”

“I love you both equally.”

She got up to straighten one of the framed renderings of the developments that hung on the walls. “There’s fresh coffee and muffins if you’re hungry.”

Trent stepped over to the antique mahogany sideboard that Agnes had insisted be put into the conference room to lend the room an air of elegance.

Of course, Steve was already there, munching on the last banana muffin, which he knew was Trent’s favorite. He settled for pumpkin, but only because he was really hungry.

Lawrence ended the conference call with an audible huff and a growl. He put his palms facedown on the table, as if he were about to stand up. Trent had long learned that was a habit, something his father did to steady himself after a difficult conversation. As president and CEO of Waterson Builders, he had plenty of those every day.

At six foot four, he towered over both of his sons and his wife, but never used his stature as a point of intimidation. It was when he stroked his neatly groomed salt-and-pepper beard that they all knew to brace themselves—not for yelling or screaming, but for tough questions. The company that he’d founded was his baby and he would do anything to protect its interests.

“What are you two boys squabbling about now?”

“Angel’s wings, Dad,” Steve said jokingly as he pulled out his chair and sat down.

“Here’s something that’s not very funny,” his mother said. “Have you read the latest editorials in the Bay Point Courier? That’s the first topic on our agenda today.”

“No, and I don’t want to hear it,” Trent’s father said, and Steve agreed with a nod.

Agnes threw up her hands in disgust. “You two are as stubborn as mules.”

Trent sat down and began to thumb through the paper in front of him. “What’s going on, Mom?”

“Backlash galore,” she replied with a huge huff of a breath. “Everyone is complaining that our homes are too expensive, and out of reach for the average income-earning person.”

“I don’t know what the problem is,” Steve muttered, placing his paper to the side. “Luxury homes are our business. We’re not any different from any other company that services high-net-worth customers.”

“I agree with Steve. We’ve been successful for over twenty years because our customers are overjoyed with their homes.”

“There’s even an editorial from Mayor Langston,” Trent said, scanning the page. “He thinks it’s our civic responsibility to build affordable housing. I’m actually surprised we haven’t been called out before this.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” his father demanded with a slam of his fist on the table.

Trent’s tone was grim. “The luxury townhomes and apartments downtown that were built during the period of revitalization can only be afforded by the wealthy. They’re out of reach for many longtime residents of Bay Point.”

“We’re a private company, not a public institution. We are only accountable to ourselves and our customers,” Steve piped in.

“Don’t forget the hundreds of people we employ every day in Bay Point and other cities in the region,” his mother added. “We play an important role in the local economy.”

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