Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Teresa
H e pulled out his phone and tapped on it, then stuck it in my face when a video started playing. It was a young Trevor, holding a prop gun, dramatically and insufficiently lit from the side, speaking in an awful, fake American accent.
“A scene from Casino Royale,” he told me, but I wasn’t listening to the movie lines. I was staring at his face—Trevor without a beard! He had a nice, strong jaw and full lips. Nothing that could be drastically improved with facial hair. Why had he grown a beard?
“Thank you,” I said, passing the phone back to him. “I appreciate that.”
“Your turn,” he said.
My throat felt sticky. I wanted to tell him. I wanted us to be this close, just like we’d been that night. But how could I trust him with my secrets? He’d already betrayed me once, and I wasn’t made of Teflon like him. We worked in the same industry, in the same city. If my past transgressions became common knowledge, it could affect my career.
“I did naughty things in my youth. Can we just leave it at that?”
He cocked his head, staring at me like he was trying to extract something from my brain using telepathy. “Everyone does naughty things in their youth… Are we talking about drinking, drugs, crime…”
A muscle in my face must have spasmed on the last word since he smiled. “Crime! I would have never thought.” His voice was almost reverent. “Tell me more. I don’t think you’re a killer…” He kept watching my face, eyes narrowed. “Nae, ye not violent, and ye far too driven to waste time on drugs. My money’s on shoplifting.”
I glanced at the shop we’d exited. “Selma is my mom’s old friend. They still keep in touch, and I heard she’d opened a gift shop. She used to work at the school and keep an eye on me… and she saw me do something stupid… I know she means well, but you know how seeing someone reminds you of something you’d rather not think about?”
“What did you do?”
I stared at my boots. “Stupid teenage stuff.”
“That’s it?” His voice rose in suspicion.
“That’s all you’re getting until I get fed.” I spun around and marched towards the general store. Hopefully, it was still there. “And if they don’t have anything ready-made and I have to live on cold Pop Tarts and soda, no more secrets.”
I already knew the store was tiny and overpriced. I doubted the selection had expanded to include anything highly exciting in the last fourteen years. So, my secrets were safe. For now.
As we reached the store, Trevor spotted another restaurant down a side street. “I’ll just quickly check that one, aye?”
He jogged down the alley like it was a race and that last available reservation was going to be taken in the next sixty seconds. I trailed behind, careful not to slip on the icy sidewalk. When I made it to the restaurant, he appeared in the doorway, grinning at me. “We have a table!”
“What is this place?” I peered at the green sign.
“Dinnae… Something Irish. Coddle and stew? Does it matter?”
“No,” I admitted, following him inside.
I had no memory of this place. It must have been a new establishment. Round tables were covered with green tablecloths, and cheerful bagpipes played faintly in the background. We were seated in a corner, partly behind a see-through partition that gave an illusion of privacy, but only on one side.
My stomach growled again, and I grimaced.
“D’ye want me to order for us?” he asked, and I nodded, suddenly too tired to even think.
My feet ached from all the walking, and my toes felt numb from the cold. Too much had happened today. Too much to even process. Sinking into the luxuriously padded green chair, I suddenly felt like crying.
“Are you okay?” Trevor leaned over the table, taking my hand. “You’ve been through an awful lot today. I guess I’ve been trying to distract you… and I think you’ve done a great job with that yourself. But I get it if you don’t feel like holding it together right now.”
His kindness almost cracked me open, and I bit my lower lip, stifling a sniff. “When is that ever an option? When can I ever not hold it together?”
He squeezed my hand. “Wi’ me. Ye feel free to fall apart. I can handle it.”
“Can you now?” I let out a sad laugh.
“I can handle a lot of stuff. And I’m not angry about the key.”
“You’re not?” I looked up, blinking away tears.
“I’m glad to be stuck with you.” He smiled like he didn’t have a care in the world.
I tried to smile back. “You roll with the punches, don’t you?”
“Still waiting for the punches, Dragonfly. Any time you feel like it.”
The waiter arrived with a tall glass of beer and a glass of red he set in front of me. I hadn’t even paid attention to what he’d ordered.
“I remember you ordered pinot noir once before. Is it okay?”
I took a long sip, sighing deeply. “It’s perfect.”
A moment later, two huge bowls of stew and a basket of bread appeared in front of us, filling the air with a meaty, spicy aroma. I’d entered some sort of comfort-food heaven. It tasted as amazing as it smelled, and for a moment, we ate in silence.
“I’m so glad you found this place,” I finally said. “The general store is dire. Or at least it used to be.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” He raised his glass, clinking it with mine.
I couldn’t help laughing. This was so not what I’d planned for today, but things were so far out of my control I had no choice but to go with it. Maybe I could roll with the punches, too, if I really tried. “Okay. I think you’ve earned another secret.”
He leaned in, a sly smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “ Another secret? Ye haven’t told me anything yet.”
“Okay, a secret. But it must stay between us. Can I trust you?”
“Have I ever betrayed your trust?”
I jerked back, thrown by his question. Surely, he had. He’d betrayed me. As I watched him, his mouth twitched, that relaxed exterior cracking a little.
“I trusted you to recommend me for that job,” I finally said, stating the obvious.
He nodded, weighing his words carefully. “I made the wrong call, and I hurt you, but I didn’t go back on my word. You didn’t ask me for a recommendation.”
The statement hung in the air, like an invisible note floating above our breadbasket.
“You knew how much it meant,” I argued, but I had little air left in my lungs and the words died on my lips.
It was true. I’d told him I wanted that job, but I hadn’t asked him for anything, even though I’d known he had pull with Charlie, and probably all of them. I’d simply assumed he’d be on my side.
“I’m not saying this to let myself off the hook,” he added. “Only to point out that I wouldn’t break a promise. I’ve also never passed on anything personal you told me that night. I don’t blab about anyone’s business.”
I nodded, hiding behind my wineglass. It was probably true. I’d never caught him gossiping. Was it possible my anger over the game design job had distorted the image of him in my mind? I’d been so convinced Trevor had shown me his true colors that I’d never stopped to study those colors more closely.
Something occurred to me. “Is this why Charlie calls you ‘fortress’? I thought it was just because of your size.”
He huffed a laugh. “Maybe it’s both. I hold a lot of dirt on a lot of people.” He tapped on his temple.
“You sound like that Sherlock villain! Have you ever blackmailed anyone? Do you have a mind palace?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’d rather be worth the trust placed in me. And most people’s secrets are nothin’ exciting. Once they work up the courage to share, they’re just embarrassing stories.”
“So, you receive confessions?”
He met my gaze head-on, and my smile wavered. He was so serious, like this was something he’d really thought about.
“I enjoy deep conversations. I share about myself, and others do the same. Where I grew up, it wasn’t the norm. Men didn’t open up. But I wanted to find connections that go beyond hanging out and watching sports. I don’t mean ye sit in cafes staring into each other’s eyes.” He gave me a comically long and intense look. “With guys, it’s easier to do something and talk at the same time. Side by side, not face to face.”
I chuckled. “Like parallel play? Toddlers do that.”
He gave a solemn nod. “It’s been important to me since I was three.”
As my laughter fizzled out, I considered his point. “It makes sense. I remember my dad being like that. Even though he’s an academic, I still never saw him talking to a friend without some kind of activity. They’d be barbecuing, or even working on a research paper, but there was always a reason. Mom would go out with a friend, sit in a cafe and talk. I do the same.”
“An’ where’s yer dad now?”
“In California. He had an amazing career opportunity a long time ago. It didn’t turn out to be that amazing, but it ended their marriage. And that’s how we ended up in Cozy Creek with Mom.”
“You, your mom and your sister…”
“Suzanne,” I offered. “She’s five years younger than me.”
“Do you still call every day to tell her one thing you did that wasn’t work?”
I finished my wine. “You remembered.” My head was spinning a little, in a nice way.
“Do you need to call her? You can use my phone.” He slid it across the table.
“Thank you. That’s not a bad idea. Especially if we’re stuck here overnight. It’s not like she’d call the cops if I don’t, but…”
“You’d rather she doesn’t worry,” he finished for me.
I nodded. Suspicion crept in again. “Is this how you get people to confess their deepest, darkest secrets?”
“By asking questions?” He laughed. “You say it like I’m playing mind games. I’m fascinated by you, Teresa. The questions pop up from me brain, I can’t help it.” He turned his palms up as a show of innocence.
“I’m going to need another embarrassing audition video to keep going.”
He unlocked the phone he’d set on the table between us, and obligingly fetched me another video. In this one, he looked a little older, his dark, wavy hair nearly shoulder length, brown kilt fabric draped over his shoulder. I recognized the monologue from Braveheart and my cheeks warmed.
He tried to close the video after a couple of lines, but I snatched it from him. “I’m not done.”
“At least turn down the volume,” he begged as a couple at a nearby table halted their conversation, listening.
I dialed the sound to its lowest setting but kept watching. This was the role he was born to play, complete with the thick Scottish accent I couldn’t get enough of.
“Your accent doesn’t sound like this.”
“Aye, ma accent doesnae sound like this these days.” He smiled, sounding perfectly Scottish to me. “I swore I wouldn’t change, but I’ve never been that good at accents. Turns oot I’ve got verra little control o’er it. Wish I’d figured it oot sooner.” He nodded at the phone.
I couldn’t stop smiling, staring at the phone. I would have watched him on the silver screen for hours.
The scene ended, and I set the phone back on the table. “Thank you. You’ve earned one secret.” I leaned over the table until my top was nearly swimming in stew, whispering so quietly that the couple at the next table would have needed hearing aids to understand. “Before that night at the swimming pool, I had a crush on you?—”
He cracked up, belting out his signature laugh that made our eavesdropping couple jump. “That’s no’ a secret! I had a massive crush on you. We were flirting every single day.”
“That’s not the secret part.” I glared at him, waiting for his laugh to settle before I whispered again so quietly, he had to lean in, our noses nearly touching, our breaths mingling in hot gusts. “I kept having the same sex dream about you.”
There was a beat. His brows knitted together. “What?”
“What do you mean, what? I told you a secret.”
“That’s not a secret. That’s a teaser. What was the dream?”
“What, like details?” I assumed a look of absolute innocence and confusion.
“Come on!” He huffed in frustration, and I grinned.
I leaned in again, forcing him to meet me halfway, my nose accidentally brushing his beard. His breath tickled my cheek, and I was suddenly hyper aware of his lips, so close to mine. “I will only tell you if you guess it right. There are three parameters—the position, the piece of clothing, and the location. If you guess all of them right, I’ll tell you.”
“Wait… a piece of clothing on you, or me?”
“On you. I’m naked.”
His cheeks reddened. “I like the sound of that.”
“Of course, you do. What man doesn’t enjoy starring in a sex dream?”
“So, have you had this dream since then?”
“Nope.”
“D’ ye even remember it well enough? It’s been a while.” His eyes sparkled.
“Yes. Dream you was very memorable,” I added generously.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” He beamed at me, so ridiculously pleased with himself I couldn’t help laughing.
I shook my head, trying to decide if this was a huge mistake or a fun game I didn’t want to stop playing. His smile pulled at my belly, so deliciously, so deeply. My body hummed.
He tilted his head, watching me, his mouth now permanently curved. That pull centered between my legs, intensifying. I had needs, but now was not a good time to become aware of them. I needed to stay in control.
“I’m not sure about the other two, but the piece of clothing is easy.” He held my gaze, looking very pleased with himself.
“Easy?” I lifted my eyebrows.
“It’s obviously a kilt. And yes, I do have one.”
I tried to keep a poker face, but it was a good thing I’d never tried that type of gambling.
“Thank you for confirming that.” Trevor chuckled. “Now, let’s see about that position…” He drained his beer, keeping his intense gaze on me like he was trying to extract the truth telepathically.
“Okay. You do that, I’ll go call my sister. Be back in a sec.” I grabbed his phone, had him unlock it for me, and made my way to the restrooms.
Good thing my sister had had the same number since we were teenagers—the only one besides my own I’d memorized.