Page 4 of Lightness In My Dark

Wow! Do I seem like a loser? Like I wouldn’t have plans on a Saturday? Not that he’s far off… usually I have nothing to do.

As if on cue, we turned around. “You’re right about short notice. I have plans with a friend.” I glimpsed over at Cole. He stared ahead, patient for my response. I raised my shoulders and dropped them. “I guess I can call her and meet another time.”

He nodded with a smile. Cole never gave off a danger vibe. Plus, I didn’t have the luxury of passing up a job opportunity. I canceled with my friend, Madison, gave a brief reason, and told her if she didn’t hear from me by this evening, to contact the police. She freaked, so I rephrased it, telling her to call me if I hadn’t called her by this evening.

Cole offered to drive. With a last glance around, I got into the passenger seat of his car. It turned out to be a one-hour drive. Conversation was scarce, other than Cole reiterating his thanks. Out the window, fall succumbed to the shift in the cold, trees no longer dense, stripped of color and texture, their sturdiness equipped and ready for winds and ice. The time of year reminded me of the creeping isolation while colleagues and friends filled their bellies, hearts, and homes with food. I had a tattered relationship with my parents. As soon as I moved out, they embraced the empty nester mentality. When the end of the year neared, I dealt with the aches and sadness, sleepless nights, and late hallway wanderings until the remnants of the holidays dissipated.

I felt a swift breeze and saw Cole standing at my open door. Blinking to clear the fog, I undid the seatbelt and said, “I can’t believe I fell asleep. How long was I sleeping?”

He let out a quick chuckle. “I’d say the last twenty minutes.”

Out of the car, my head fell back, mouth-hanging open toward the humongous house in front of me. It was a stone and brick building, rising three levels and expanding too many feet to count, with exquisite carvings adorning the roof and windows. A large upper balcony extended out from the left side. Plants and shrubs outlined the perimeter, and a vine, stretched from the portico upwards on the entire right side of the house, secured itself around doors and windows. I shut my mouth, turning in circles, mesmerized by such architectural beauty. For a moment, my eyes closed, only hearing the rustling and chirping of birds. We approached a double wood door, trimmed in bronze and bronze handles, which made me think Bela Lugosi was going to open them.

Inside, smooth stone flooring ran throughout the rooms and up a staircase on the left side of the foyer with a thick wood handrail. My head and body swiveled around, taking in the décor. I had little time to marvel over the place as I tailed Cole, who strolled past the foyer, into a living area, and through a set of French doors that opened onto a back patio. The sun had come out, warming the fall day.

A man, erect as a skyscraper, built Ford tough, stood with his hand out. It must be Merrick Trevino.

Sweet Jesus!

I’ve seen pictures of him, but in person, it’s a whole nother thing. What is wrong with me? I’ve never been this affected by a guy’s looks… but Trevino is… perfection. An Italian God—a statue, preserved, admired, and envied by little folks like me. And I’m standing in his house. In front of him. It’s like meeting a celebrity crush. My mouth is watering. WTF? He isn’t food, Wren! He’s so far out of your league—you’re on separate planets in separate galaxies.

“Mr. Trevino, please meet, Ms…” Cole realized he didn’t know my last name and looked at me, but Trevino responded instead. “Jagger. Wren Jagger.” His hand was still out, waiting for me to shake it.

Trevino. Holy hell! Is my upper lip sweating? I’m having difficulties swallowing. Breathe Wren, breathe. It’s unlike you to act this way. Say something to break the ice.

I nonchalantly wiped my hand on my jeans.

God, I hope he didn’t notice.

With a laugh, I shook his hand. “Mick isn’t my dad.”

He smiled at me. A gorgeous dimple completing a match to my right one. And his gaze traveled from my feet upward.

My inner thighs are sweating. Press them together before you get a wet ass and crotch. If that happens, you can kiss this job goodbye.

They stopped at my small breasts, so I crossed my arms in front, and his gaze rested on my face. I might have faintly resembled a gypsy.

The more he stares at me, the more I might embarrass myself. I feel sticky. And bile, definitely bile, is rising. Please don’t throw up.

My body was cement stiff, so I took in a deep breath, rubbing my thumb along my index finger to calm the nerves. Since my eyes hit his chest, I avoided staring at him, although taking in his muscular stature didn’t help matters.

My head fell back, our eyes met, a challenge to cover-up the stew of my enchanted thoughts, and I gulped in air. He gestured to a chair. “Please take a seat.”

I sat staring at him, Cole in my peripheral. Then I shifted, afraid I’d turn into a pillar of salt. Trevino’s directness made me uneasy.

Who am I kidding? His entire being makes me uneasy. The way he keeps his emotions in check. How his eyes flit over my body, blatant and commanding. All of it, along with his appearance, is overwhelming.

The right side of Trevino’s mouth curved up. He turned and pretended to brush off a piece of lint from his pants, then took a sip of his beer. Silence drifted and settled in the air like fire ash.

My hands are shaking, I feel all tingly, and my mouth is dry. Is there anything to drink around here? I glance at his beer on the table. Would it be out of line if I took a sip? Yes, Wren! But it’s tempting. I run my tongue along my lips.

He put the beer down, eyes darting from mine to my lips and back. He cleared his throat. “I should start by thanking you for taking care of Cole last month. If I offended you with the money, I apologize. It was a simple offering for your time.” I gave a quick nod. Our eyes connected, but I didn’t look away out of curiosity.

“May I ask why you’re contacting me a month later?”

His fingers played with the beer label. “Let me start by introducing myself. My full name is Merrick Finn Trevino. Outside of business, I go by Finn. I waited a month to contact you to prepare a contract regarding this proposition, or job, if you’d like to call it that.”

My hands rested in my lap and the word ‘job’ gave me renewed confidence. “I’ve recently lost my job at a financial securities firm, so I’m interested in whatever position you’re willing to offer me, Mr. Trevino. I was an administrative assistant and I’m adaptable to learning new skills.”

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