Steal My Heart, Trevor (Best Friends To Forever Book 2) Read online

  Now it was her turn. “Trevor and I are friends.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “Just like we always were.”

  But Trevor’s mom wasn’t buying this. “Friends,” she said with disgust, one corner of her mouth lifting into a sneer.

  “I think Trevor would be good at, you know, whatever you’re describing.” Bryn would love to see him on TV some day, talking about saving the rain forests or stopping climate change. No way did she want to keep him from his work. “He’s so smart.”

  “Smart!” His mother’s face flushed and her head shivered with indignation. “You have no idea. Right now he holds a very responsible position at the university. But where is he? As we speak, he’s at home in the garage, hammering away on something for your turtles.” She threw out the word with disgust.

  While Bryn groped for the right response, a customer walked in. “Is that all you got of the blue salvia out front?” a young mother asked, a toddler propped on one hip.

  Turning, Bryn wanted to hug the woman. “My supplier will be here Monday with more. If you give me your phone number, I’ll call you.”

  While the two stood talking, Mrs. Daniels skirted them and disappeared through the door. The air seemed to lighten with her absence. After she left, Bryn didn't know what she said to the customer. Fingers numb, she scribbled down her phone number and tucked it on her counter. Two online orders had come in and she began to work on them. But her fingers trembled as she pushed black-eyed Susans and daisies into the floral foam.

  Why had Trevor’s mother come all this way?

  Because her son was the most important thing in her world.

  Bryn got that. There was no mistaking that message. Maybe Bryn wasn't even good enough, smart enough to be Trevor’s friend. Maybe their lives had taken different directions.

  Mrs. Daniels had left the card with Trevor’s message next to the vase. Snapping it up, Bryn tossed it in a drawer. She had a lot to think about.

  Bryn leaned over the bucket. “What do you think of that, Sheldon?”

  But of course he didn’t poke his head out. She didn’t blame him. Lucky guy. Some days she wished she had a shell and could just pull back into it and hide.

  ***

  On Sunday, Trevor gave her a call. “Do you mind if I come over with the turtle box? I’ll bring a load of sand with me too. My mother is taking the girls to church, so I’m free.”

  “Are you sure you’ve got time?” His mother’s comments played in the back of Bryn’s mind.

  “What? Sure. Of course. I want to get this to you.”

  She smiled. When Trevor set his mind to something, he was going to do it. But this had to be the last time. She’d hardly slept, thinking about what to do.

  “That'll be great.” She’d be relieved to have the eggs tucked away safely. In the half hour waiting for him, she jumped into the shower, shampooed her hair and pulled on a clean pair of capri pants patterned with turtles and a peach T-shirt that she knew looked nice on her.

  As if it mattered. Her fingers wouldn’t cooperate while she worked on her hair. No way did she want to keep Trevor from his work. He should be everything he was meant to be. Wasn’t that what a friend did? Wish for the best for each other?

  These curls were never going to work. Squirting some conditioner into her palm, she ran it through her fine hair. That would have to do.

  Going outside, she wandered around the backyard, scanning for the sweeping pattern of a mama turtle’s hind claw. But she saw nothing. Heat pressed a heavy hand over the marsh. Nothing seemed to be moving. She felt as lethargic as the leaves on the trees.

  “Anything going on out there?” Nanny yelled out, gripping the railing as she came down the steps of her back porch.

  “Not that I can see.”

  Casting her eyes from one side to the other, Nanny ambled toward her with that familiar hitch in her gait. She’d spent most of her working years bent over at the oyster shucking plant that had once fueled the economy in Sweetwater Creek. From what another neighbor told her, one day Nanny slipped on the slick floor. That injury left her unable to work. Still, she and her husband had made a nice life together. They made do. “Nothing that I can see either,” she muttered when she drew closer.

  “How are you feeling, Nanny?”

  Smelling like the bacon she must have been cooking, she tilted her chin up and smiled. “I believe I have moved away from death's door. Don't you worry.”

  “That’s good.” She gave Nanny a hug. “I'm waiting for Trevor. He’s bringing that enclosure for the eggs so the wildlife can’t reach our poor babies.”

  She got all weepy when she thought about it.

  Nanny had her sharp eyes on Bryn. “What is it?” she asked.

  “I do believe that man’s sweet on you.”

  The words made her ridiculously happy. Heat flashed up Bryn’s chest to her neck and onto her cheeks. But she’d made her decision, hard as it might be.

  Malcolm had been strangely silent. Of course, Bryn hadn’t texted him either. His phone might not be near a cell tower.

  With a hand on Nanny’s shoulder, Bryn said, “Trevor’s an old friend. That’s all. Someone I knew way back when. We would both collect shells, rocks and old driftwood. Now he’s helping me out with the turtles.”

  With an audible huff, Nanny turned to look over the marsh. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

  Hearing the sound of a motor, Bryn turned toward the street. “Maybe that's him now.”

  “Well, I can’t stand here jawing. Got work to do.” With that, Bryn’s neighbor hustled back toward her place.

  When Bryn reached the front, Trevor was hopping out of a pickup truck instead of the jeep. Some wooden thing painted dark green stuck out of the back. “What have we here?”

  “A nesting box. I researched it.”

  “Sure.” She could hardly wait to see how this worked. “You made this yourself?”

  “It's not much.” Gripping the sides, he slid it forward, those muscular shoulders working beneath his plaid shirt.

  “Looks like something to me. How long did it take?”

  “Only a few hours.”

  Thinking back to his mother’s comments, she seriously doubted it. After she grabbed the other side, they hoisted it up and lugged it out back to the sunny spot he’d measured out on the lawn.

  With Trevor handling the heaviest part of the weight, they positioned the enclosure and stepped back. To think that he’d made this for her. “This looks like you bought it at a hardware store. You even painted the wood.”

  “Oh, you have to. You know, with the rain and everything, it could rot.”

  Circling the enormous box with a screened top and bottom, Trevor studied his work. Slats crossed the screening.

  “It’s perfect.” Shielding her eyes from the sun, she smiled up at him.

  “It’s not that good.” He looked around. “Got a wheelbarrow?”

  She laughed. “Is a bluebird blue?”

  Bryn had always liked to work with dirt and he knew it. Bags of sand sat in the back of his truck and with her help they loaded them into the wheelbarrow. Then he wheeled it over to the container which Trevor said was six feet long. He’d brought a shovel and she grabbed another one from her garage. With them both wielding shovels, it didn’t take long to fill the box with sand. “Do you think this is going to be enough for this season of turtles?”

  She had no idea but it seemed huge to her now. “We'll see, but I would think so.”

  “If not, I can always make another one for next year.”

  The words hung between them, Next year. She couldn’t even look at him.

  “Come on.” She turned toward the deck. “Let’s transfer the eggs from the pots.”

  That part of the project took a good forty-five minutes. As they worked, Mrs. Daniels’ words came back to Bryn. Trevor was more than this. She was holding him back. Her heart felt as heavy as the mound of sand.

  By the time they’d arranged the last popsicle sticks,
they were both sweaty but smiling. Trevor closed the top. The lock was a total surprise. Did they really need one? “Lock it every night,” he told her. “Raccoons can be pretty smart creatures.”

  She pocketed the key. At each end of the six foot long enclosure was a bucket buried in the sand. “Once they hatch, they naturally circle the pots, so I figured they would do the same thing in here. They’ll drop into the bucket where they’ll be safe from any long beaks.”

  “You're a genius,” she told him, relief washing over her. “How about some sweet tea?”

  “Sounds good after I wash my hands.”

  “Of course. Come on in.”

  She led him into the cool kitchen. Standing at the kitchen sink, Trevor pumped liquid soap into his hands. Taking a pitcher from the refrigerator, she set it on the counter and handed him a towel. Wiping his hands, he propped a hip against the counter. “Did you have a good week?”

  She couldn’t tell him. “Sure. Busy. And you? I hope this project didn’t keep you from your work.”

  “Naw. No way.” He grinned.

  After that visit from his mother, Bryn thought she knew what he was talking about. She felt sad for him and for those little girls who spent so much time with his stern mother. Still, she was helping with the children and she was their grandmother.

  Cornelia Daniels had rights. Bryn had to remember that.

  Hands braced on the sink, he was more appealing than she'd ever believed. The inquisitive grade school kid with a leaning toward knock, knock jokes had turned into an incredibly sensitive guy. How could she help loving him?

  The way he looked at her made her crazy. She’d never felt this way with Malcolm. Never had this comfort level. Unwanted feelings pulsing through her body, she grabbed the cold picture of tea. “Let's go outside. Can you bring those glasses?”

  “Sure thing.” Glasses in one hand, he opened the back screen door and she scooted under his arm.

  Her racing mind making her dizzy, she stood there for a second. “Doesn’t the deck look empty? But it’s so much safer for the turtles.”

  She wished she felt as safe with Trevor right now.

  The grass tickled her bare feet as she led them to the glider and slipped inside. Instead of sitting across from her, Trevor sat next to her. Tall and warm, he folded his body neatly on the seat made for two. Did he mean to sit so close? That got her nerves chattering even more. Hands shaking, she poured the sweet tea.

  Taking the pitcher, Trevor set it on the ground. Then he gently set the glider in motion. Contentment flowed over her like a summer wave at Butter Bean Beach. How she liked spending time with Trevor. But that visit from his mama had changed everything.

  “Why are you so serious today?”

  “Just thinking.” She hadn’t found the right words yet.

  Brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, Trevor said, “Man, your skin is as soft as Daisy’s or Annabelle's. So what’s up? Something’s on your mind.”

  The wonder in his voice made her smile. “This has been a busy week, that's all.”

  “I suppose you miss your boyfriend. When’s he coming back?” Dropping the hand that had felt so good on her skin, he gripped his glass.

  “Soon. I think.” How embarrassing that she didn't even know when Malcolm would return. Doing a quick count, she figured two weeks would mean this weekend.

  Really? Like, today? She tilted the glass up to her lips and took a cold gulp.

  “The girls wanted to come with me today.” Stretching out, Trevor let one arm fall over the back of the glider, almost around her shoulders.

  “That would've been nice.”

  He chuckled and golden flecks lit up his eyes. “My mother said they would just get in the way. She may have been right. I don’t know if I could keep my eyes on them and on what we were doing.”

  What they were doing? She didn’t want Mrs. Daniels getting the wrong idea about today.

  “Relax.” His thumb stroked her shoulder. She wanted to snug that shoulder right into the palm of his hand. But she didn’t. “How’s the hatchling doing? Has Sheldon poked his head out yet?”

  “No, he’s so quiet. It worries me.”

  “Give him time. Think of him as premature.” But he didn’t sound certain.

  Curiosity got the best of her. “Do you like having your mother live with you?”

  Trevor took another sip and stared up into the trees. “Right now it's necessary. My mother makes sure the girls are fed three meals a day. And she helps with chauffeur duty.” A determined smile tightened his face before sliding away. “This sure isn’t how I pictured my life. You know, my marriage not working out.”

  “No, I suppose not.” This wasn’t what his mother had pictured either. But she wasn’t about to mention that. “My own parents’ marriage seem to work pretty well.”

  “They were great. Your dad would take you fishing. I thought you were so lucky.” Another stroke of his thumb sent a tremor through her body. “My father was always at the hospital or his office. We didn't see much of him. You must miss yours terribly.”

  All she could do was nod. “I hope I never lose anyone again that I love so much. I don't think I'd live through it.” The thought scared her.

  “I hope you never do too, Bryn.” His eyes swept her face and the worry there surprised her. Slipping his arm from the back of the glider, he gripped his glass tighter in both hands. “I hope Malcolm is a good man who’ll take care of you. I’m sure he is or you wouldn’t be seeing him.”

  The words hung between them, waiting to be batted back. What could she say? Somehow she’d never pictured the details of a future with Malcolm. Spending every day with him. Like, what would they do? Bike, camp or kayak? Time to steer away from this conversation. “How about you? I imagine you were happy with Delia for a while.”

  “Isn’t everybody happy when they get married? I thought we’d be together forever.” He gave a humorless laugh. “But Delia changed. I should have been paying more attention.”

  “What do you mean?” She turned to study him.

  The warm brown eyes had turned flat. Trevor had gone inward to some dark place of self blame. “You do notice things. I’m sure you were ‘paying attention,’ whatever that means.”

  He gave his head a sad shake. “Wish that were true, Bryn. I was the typical absent minded professor. Even when she was expecting the twins, I’m not sure I was there for her.”

  “Oh, Trevor.” The truth was, she could see him being like that. As a boy, he’d bumble through the halls, weighed down by a heavy back pack and reading an open book. How many times did the principal tell him that he could not walk and read at the same time?

  His strong thighs flexed as he pumped the glider. The day was heating up and she swept her hair from her neck. “Life teaches you lessons,” he murmured. “Now I’ve got my girls.” His face cleared and a grin tickled the corner of his lips.

  “And you’re doing a wonderful job. They adore you.” Bryn got this cozy feeling, picturing him reading to Annabelle and Daisy.

  For a second she watched a hummingbird dart around the bottle brush bush, a quick whirl of activity. Trevor seemed to follow its flight. “That archilochus colubris sure is busy.”

  “What?” He still could crack her up. She slapped her hands on her thighs and laughed. “Translate, please.”

  “I mean, the hummingbird.” He shoved a finger in the bird's direction. “They’re so...”

  “Beautiful?” she offered.

  Looking down into her eyes, he murmured, “You’re the one who’s beautiful.” The glider came to a halt.

  The moment hummed with electricity just like the bird that had taken flight. She was drowning in his eyes. Her glance fell to his lips. How she wanted them against her own, whispering things she longed to hear.

  Giving his head a shake, Trevor looked totally confused. “What were we saying?”

  She couldn’t go there. “We were talking about Daisy and Annabelle.”

  He gave
the glider a good pump. The rhythm began again and Bryn exhaled. “Sure, they can be a hassle,” Trevor continued. “But they’re a lot of fun too, even when they’re at each other. I just hope to heck they don't grow up to be like their mother.”

  The carefree mood disappeared. He jammed a hand through his hair and the ridges stayed in the upended curls. Still, Trevor Daniels was probably the most handsome man on the planet.

  He sent a lazy grin her way. “Do you ever think about having children, Bryn? I suppose you and the guy you’re seeing talk about that. Have plans.”

  The thought jarred her. “Malcolm? Oh no. Not at all.”

  Trevor looked amazed, like he couldn’t believe it. “You’d better discuss everything before you get married. Take it from one who knows.”

  The idea of broaching that topic with Malcolm seemed preposterous. They weren’t at that point and maybe they never would be. The position at the library had brought him to town. Josie had made sure he met Bryn, and the two of them had fallen into a comfortable pattern.

  “Was it that bad – your marriage?”

  The boyishness vanished. Trevor gave the solemn nod of a much older man. “It was that bad. And I was not prepared. I never want to go through that again. Marriage is kind of a serious friendship, don’t you think?”

  She gulped. “I guess.”

  “Someone to talk things over with. That never happened in my marriage.” He gave her a sheepish smile.

  “What did you talk about...with your wife?”

  “Really important stuff, like what to wear to the masquerade ball, a fund raiser at the college.” He snorted. “My mother quickly got Delia involved in the philanthropic whirl in Asheboro. I don’t ever want to wear a tux again.”

  “Were they for good causes? The balls?” That sounded like fun.

  “Sure, I guess so. But we were a young couple getting to know each other. Suddenly, we were caught up in other things.”

  What could she say? Delia sounded like the type of wife Trevor needed.

  When he took her hand, warmth cascaded through her body. Warmth that came from the inside, not from the sun blasting overhead with the force of a cloudless day. He threaded his fingers through hers. Once again, they fit together like puzzle pieces.