Steal My Heart, Trevor (Best Friends To Forever Book 2) Page 7

  “Maybe you'd like to see the baby turtles someday?”

  The girls erupted into excited screams.

  Sometimes life was full of quicksand. “How about pizza for dinner?”

  With all the commotion they were making, he could hardly hear their response. Trevor took that as a yes. Grabbing his cellphone, he put the book aside.

  That had been close. But had he just replaced one problem with another?

  ***

  “Let’s check out Coralee’s window,” Bryn said the next time she walked with Josie and Emily. The square didn't call to her this morning. The Spanish moss hung listlessly from the branches. She couldn’t feel a breeze anywhere.

  So they walked past the five and dime, past the pharmacy until they stood in front of Coralee's. The square was deserted at this hour. Bryn studied the mini skirt and top, as well as the white slacks and brilliant mauve blouse with dolphin sleeves.

  “I'm waiting for Coralee to call about wedding gowns,” Emily said quietly.

  Bryn squealed with excitement. “This is really going to happen.”

  “Yes, it will. Weddings happen when couples commit to each other.” Josie sent a pointed look Bryn’s way. She ignored it.

  Studying Emily in the reflection of the store window, Bryn could almost see stars in her friend’s eyes. Was this what she felt for Malcolm? Not really. What was missing? They moved on but Bryn’s misgivings stayed with her. “Malcolm asked me to go on a camping trip with him up on Lake Superior.”

  “What did you say?” Josie’s question came a little too quickly. Had Malcolm mentioned this at work?

  Bryn fluttered one hand in the air. “Of course I can’t go. This is turtle season.” Leaving Coralee’s, they moved on.

  “But aren’t you passing up a special time with the man you’re seeing?” Josie asked. “The man who’s stolen your heart?”

  Had Malcolm stolen her heart? Bryn wasn't so sure about that.

  “Josie, you like exploring the wilderness. Why don’t you go?” Emily suggested.

  Bryn almost laughed at the startled expression on Josie’s face, followed by a hot flush. This heat was getting to everyone. “Yeah, why don't you?” That would get Josie off her back for a little while.

  Coming to a halt in front of Victoria’s Pantry, Josie dug a tissue from her pocket and blotted the back of her neck. “I would love to go camping on Lake Superior. The air is probably crisp and cool. And you’d both be stuck here in the southern heat that feels like warm syrup smothering Johnnycakes.”

  Emily and Bryn exchanged a glance. My oh my, this heat was getting to all of them.

  “But I can't do that, even if Malcolm wanted a sidekick.” Josie tucked her tissue away. “Our library staff is small and we have to stagger our vacations. Don't think I didn't consider it when Malcolm brought it up.”

  “What? Did Malcolm ask you?” Bryn felt blindsided.

  “Not really. It's just that he was all excited, talking about it while he worked on the website. The trip sounded great to me.”

  And it sounded awful to Bryn. She wanted to loll about on her beat-up blue boat while he wanted to kayak through the cypress swamp. “I can't go, and that's that. My babies need me.”

  “Your babies. I would take care of those turtles.” Josie snorted. “How hard could that be?”

  Bryn counted to ten and made it to five. “Your heart wouldn't be in it.” Half the eggs would probably get eaten under Josie’s watch. “They need loving attention.”

  “Thank you very much.” Josie’s sarcasm wasn't lost on either one of them. Looking uncomfortable with the words flying back and forth, Emily stared down at the day’s menu posted in the window of Victoria’s Pantry. “Orzo salad with spinach and shrimp,” she read. “Tomatoes with mozzarella and basil.”

  “So are these recipes all yours?” Bryn asked.

  Emily nodded. “You bet.”

  “I still don't see how you and Victoria became such good buddies.” Bryn was eager to turn to another topic. “She was such an ice queen back then.”

  “Trust me, people can change. Victoria went through a transformation.”

  Josie peered into the depths of the shop, which didn't open until ten. “What's going on back there?”

  Emily followed her gaze. Past the counters holding baskets of freshly baked cookies, past the wrought iron tables and chairs where people gathered for sweet tea and croissants. “Probably deliveries. Victoria has them all lined up. She even has a guy in France sending her frozen whole-wheat croissants. All she has to do is pop them in the oven.”

  “My word,” Bryn said with wonder. “How did that girl ever get so organized?”

  “I'll never tell.” Emily’s mysterious expression made Bryn chuckle.

  “And when are you moving?” Bryn glanced up at the balcony outside the living room window of the two-bedroom apartment where Emily had been living since coming back.

  “Not until after the wedding. But I'm starting to pack things up.” Her eyes glistened with anticipation. How Bryn wanted to be a bride, to be starting a new life. With a man she loved madly. But where was her roadmap?

  “Let's finish up with the walk down to the marina.” Pushing off, all three of them took off. But Bryn was turning Josie’s comments about the camping trip over in her head.

  Something just wasn’t right.

  Chapter 6

  Inside the cottage, Bryn’s phone was ringing. The shrill sound ripped through the heavy summer air. Sitting on her heels, she pushed back her hair, smearing dirt on her face. She'd been weeding and was a sweaty mess. But if she didn't get after the weeds now, her entire yard would be overtaken by the end of July. She’d planted blue salvia in some of the beds, with bright pink pentas as a border.

  Sometimes she longed for petunias that would perfume the air, the way wisteria and jasmine did in the spring. But no way was she going to take on the deer population of Sweetwater Creek.

  Her landline carried clear from the kitchen. Maybe she’d let it go. No one called that number, especially on Sunday. But the phone kept ringing. Maybe this was important. Had something happened at her shop? Dropping her gloves and trowel, she rushed up the back stairs to the deck. Sheltered in the shade, her turtle pots and pans were neatly in place. Kicking off her gardening boots, she dashed inside and grabbed the phone from the wall. “Hello?”

  “Bryn? Trevor Daniels here.” She smiled at his crisp efficient tone.

  “Well, good morning.” She peered at the turtle clock above the sink. The morning had escaped and it was almost noon.

  “This is a weird thing to ask,” he began. Bryn bit back a chuckle. Weird wasn’t unusual for this guy. In fifth grade Trevor had asked her to help him build an ant farm as calmly as if he’d suggested going for an ice cream cone. “Are you doing anything this afternoon?”

  “Not really. Just gardening.” Glancing down at her dirty jeans and top, she brushed a hand over them.

  “Excellent.” He sounded so excited. “Is it asking too much if I bring my two little girls over to see the baby turtles? When I was reading them a book about Tommy the turtle, I mentioned your hatchlings. Of course they wanted to come and see them. But if this isn’t a good time, I don’t want to impose on you.”

  Children who would appreciate her baby turtles? “That would be great. In fact, I’m excited to meet your girls. Perfect timing.”

  “I really appreciate this. They’ve been yammering my ears off. How about an hour?”

  Oh my. She glanced down at her dirt-encrusted knees. “An hour it is.”

  Calm on the phone, she hung up and went crazy. What would she wear? What would they talk about? Trevor might expect her to give his daughters the correct scientific information about the diamondback turtles.

  And she should have a treat, shouldn’t she? After stirring up some powdered lemonade, she pulled a box of molasses cookies from the freezer. Soaping up in the shower, she mentally ran through facts like gestation period and hatching schedule. A
s she dried off and changed into her peach sundress and sandals, her hands shook. Was she nervous about seeing Trevor again or excited about entertaining his little girls?

  By the time Trevor rang the bell an hour later, Bryn had smoothed a bit of foundation over her freckled cheeks. The lip gloss took two tries before she got it right. Her hair was still wet but she had no time to style it. The natural curls fell to her shoulders in crazy corkscrews. As an afterthought, she added a touch of mascara and succeeded in stabbing herself in the eye. The bell rang as she was putting in eye drops.

  When she opened the door, Trevor stood there, beaming. Could these darling little waifs with enormous eyes and blonde hair really be his? Trevor ushered them through the door. “Bryn, I'd like you to meet Annabelle and Daisy.” He laid a hand on each girl with such fatherly pride. Her heart turned over.

  “So happy to meet you. Welcome.”

  The twins looked at each other and giggled. Annabelle's hair hung in shiny ringlets. How Trevor had handled that, she could only guess. Her blue flowered sundress was spotless and her sandals glittered. Daisy wore green shorts and a yellow top with a huge daisy in the middle. Her hair was in two messy braids, probably a manly attempt. Although Annabelle fell back against her daddy’s leg, Daisy stared straight up at Bryn.

  “How would you girls like some lemonade?” Bryn had planned on having a treat outside.

  “What we'd really like, ma’am,” Daisy said with little hesitation, “is to see your baby turtles.”

  “Our daddy says you have turtles here.” Annabelle was practically turning inside out, her hands twisting into a knot.

  “Why, of course.” Ushering them through the kitchen onto the back deck, she exchanged an amused look with Trevor. “The baby turtles are in the dishpan over in the shade.” Quivering with excitement, the two girls crowded into the corner under the shade of her verbena bush.

  Grabbing the pan, Bryn brought it up to the bench that rimmed the deck. The twins crowded closer. Anabelle's hands were clasped tightly under her chin. Face flushed with eagerness, Daisy reached for one. The girl wasn’t shy.

  “Now, Daisy. Wait for Bryn,” Trevor cautioned. Daisy’s hand jerked back. You would have thought they were about to handle firecrackers, not sweet little turtles.

  “That’s okay.” Lifting one of the babies, Bryn held it in her palm. “Have you ever seen anything so tiny?”

  “No, ma’am.” Daisy edged closer.

  “Never. Right, Daisy?” Annabelle still had her hands in a knot, as if she didn’t trust herself with the hatchlings.

  Trevor watched their every move. But these two little girls were just being sweet and curious. What a treat to watch the turtles bring that light into their eyes. Her heart opened with a stunning flutter. “Would you like to hold one?”

  Their heads bobbed. “Then hold out your hands. Just make a little cup.” With that, she gently laid a baby turtle into each girl's palm.

  “Oh, Daddy. Isn’t he cute?” Daisy looked mesmerized.

  “We have to be very careful.” Annabelle clearly thought she had this whole thing under control.

  As usual, the baby turtles were off to the races, eager to explore. The girls learned how to switch hands as the hatchlings kept crawling. Yes, they were probably ready to be released into the marsh.

  “They’re so pretty,” Annabelle crooned. “Look at their shells. And their tiny little heads.”

  “No two patterns are the same. Each turtle is an individual.” But then Bryn stopped. Who was she to be telling them this when their father probably knew far more? Glancing up at Trevor, she smiled. “Professor Daniels, did you have more to add?”

  But Trevor shook his head. “Hey, you're the teacher.”

  She didn’t know who was having more fun––the little girls or their daddy. Dressed in navy shorts and a blue plaid shirt, Trevor could have been mistaken for one of his students. Bryn felt giddy. The girls handled the turtles with such care and wonder. If she had any reservations about entertaining them, those thoughts burned away in the early afternoon sunshine.

  Everything was going smoothly. Except for the crazy beating of her heart.

  Trevor’s twins were so beautiful. Although they looked alike, they had different mannerisms. As the girls studied the baby turtles, she studied them.

  “Want to see where the mama turtles lay their eggs?” she asked after a while. Trevor was starting to look stressed out. “Maybe they'll have some more eggs today.”

  “Cool,” Daisy said, setting her turtle down carefully into the sand while her sister did the same.

  “Let's wash our hands now,” said Trevor, as Bryn pushed the pan back into the shade.

  “Absolutely.” Bryn jumped up and motioned back toward the kitchen door. “Follow me.”

  Giving their dad no argument, the girls followed Bryn into the powder room where they both scrubbed down. You would've thought they were about to perform surgery. Watching Trevor hovering behind them brought back a lot of memories. Trevor's mother was always telling him to wash his hands. When he came over to Bryn’s house, her mother was insulted by his frequent trips to their bathroom. One time, he’d popped his head back into the kitchen to ask for more soap.

  “Do you think that boy has that washing sickness?” Bryn overheard her mother ask Daddy.

  “Nah, he’s just being careful,” Daddy had said. “No harm in being clean.”

  Bryn’s bathroom was small so she stepped outside. The sight of Trevor lifting his daughters so they could pump out the soap themselves filled her heart. Eventually he retreated to the hallway too. “They’re precious,” she told him while the girls rinsed off their hands.

  Leaning against the wall, he raised his brows. “They keep me busy.”

  “I imagine so.” She’d love to be busy like that, instead of weeding.

  Sure, Trevor had been strung a little tight growing up, but he’d always carried this easy sense of confidence. Maybe being head of the class gave that to him. Now he seemed uncertain as he watched his girls fight over who got the towel with the turtle on it instead of the one with the palm tree.

  “Share,” Trevor finally said, poking his head back into the powder room. “Take turns.”

  “I’ll bet you say that a lot,” Bryn murmured, admiring his broad back.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he rolled his eyes and went back to mediating.

  “We’re going to close the door now, Daddy,” Daisy said, already beginning to shut it.

  “Oh, okay.” Trevor stepped back.

  “We have to do girl things.” Trevor’s mother echoed in Daisy’s comment.

  “Girls need their privacy.” Bryn pulled him away. “Come on. Help me in the kitchen.”

  Trevor sauntered after her. When they passed the wall of family photos, he paused to study them before joining her in the kitchen. “I always liked playing at your house in Asheboro. This cottage has the same feel to it. Comfortable. Homey.”

  “I’ve kept most of my parents’ furniture. I didn’t have the heart to switch out the old green sofa and my daddy’s lounge chair.”

  Trevor wandered over to the bookshelf. “You’ve even kept your old books. Misty and Anne of Avalon.”

  “Okay, I’m sentimental.” Bryn opened the refrigerator and took out the frosty pitcher of lemonade.

  Hands in his pockets, Trevor stood in a pool of light falling through a window above the book shelf. “Nothing wrong with respecting the past. Your folks and everything.”

  Trevor could clearly and concisely break down photosynthesis but when it came to feelings? He’d always fumbled. Still, she bathed in his obvious approval.

  “Right. I miss my parents.” Walking back into the living room area, she ran a hand over the green and yellow afghan over the sofa. “There’s comfort being here. Is your mother still in your family home?”

  With a sigh, he sagged against the corner of the sofa. “Can’t pry her out of it. It’s her decision. But the place is huge. I’m always ca
lling some contractor to do work.”

  Annabelle and Daisy appeared in the doorway.

  “Want to go back outside?” Bryn asked. “If your dad brings the tray of lemonade and cookies, we can sit at the picnic table in the yard and watch for mama turtles.”

  No need to ask twice. Tripping over their sandals, they hurried toward the door. Once outside, she settled them on the picnic table under the live oak. Trevor sat on one side with Annabelle, while Daisy stayed on the other side with Bryn. Fingering the plastic cup that Bryn had found at the dollar store, Daisy giggled. “You have turtles on your glass.”

  “And a turtle towel in your bathroom,” Annabelle said proudly.

  Bryn fingered her turtle necklace. “Right, they make me happy.”

  Crumbs falling from her mouth, Daisy managed to say, “Me too.”

  Annabelle looped a hand through her father's arm. “Daddy, do I make you happy?”

  “Of course you do, darling.” Trevor’s eyes looked damp.

  Chin out, Daisy didn’t seem to like that comment. “Me too, right?”

  “Of course, sugar.” Poor Trevor. Raising her brows at him, Bryn guessed that he dealt with this kind of competition all the time. And he did a good job.

  “So what's it like being a twin?” she asked the girls.

  Daisy raised her narrow shoulders. “Okay, I guess.”

  “We have to be patient and take our turn,” Annabelle said primly, breaking her molasses cookie into pieces and nibbling. “Daddy can only deal with one of us at a time.”

  “Is that right?” Bryn chuckled. She could see Annabelle waiting her turn. Daisy might have a little more trouble with that.

  But Trevor didn’t seem to find Annabelle’s comment funny. “Wherever did you hear that?”

  The girls looked at each other. “Grandma,” Annabelle finally said.

  “She said to be quiet and wait your turn when Daddy gets home. That was the first rule,” Daisy said.

  Bryn watched Trevor’s face tighten.

  “And are there other rules?” He looked trepidatious, as if he didn’t want to hear the answer. She felt so sorry for him. When had she ever felt sorry for Trevor Daniels?