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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.
“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