Not Quite Enough(20)

“Thanks for stepping in,” Walt said.
“There’s not a lot I can do.”
Walt glanced between them. “Can I ask a favor of you?”
“Sure.”
“Can you get Monica out of here for a while? She needs some sleep.”
She wanted to argue. She’d already put Trent out enough. The poor guy didn’t have much of a choice. As it was, Monica recruited any able-bodied person to some task or another. But Trent had something none of the rest of them did. He had a house that still stood… and a shower. “You don’t have to,” she offered but knew her lame voice gave away her desire for a little downtime.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I keep waiting for you to drop.”
Walt laughed. “Not our Monica. She’s the embodiment of the Energizer Bunny.” He nudged Monica with his shoulder. “Get out of here. I don’t want to see you for at least ten hours.”
Monica’s eyes grew wide. “But—”
“Another group of medical relief arrived. I’ll have Donald send more help.” He made shooing motions with his hands.
“If you’re sure.”
“Go.”
Monica caught Trent’s smile as they turned around.
“Oh, and Monica?”
“Yeah?”
“You did great.”



Chapter Seven



Trent shot out of bed, his heart racing, sweat dampened his sheets.
He didn’t remember his dream. He didn’t need to. His body recognized the uncomfortable burn of memories… lost dreams. It had been two years since a dream forced him from his bed.
Why now?
But he knew. A woman slept in his home, a beautiful, intelligent, and smart-ass woman who sparked memories.
With his sleep patterns completely screwed up, Trent pushed back the covers, encountered Ginger who had taken to the bed since the earthquake, and padded barefoot around his room. The moon shed some light inside the house, and kept him from running into walls. He slipped on a pair of sweatpants and walked quietly past his guest’s bedroom and out onto his back deck.
The warm Caribbean air was a welcome relief. Up here, on his perch that overlooked the ocean, he could forget the world literally crumbling around him. Here he could listen to the gentle waves far below and the crickets calling in the night.
Here he could forget.
Here he could heal.
Ginger walked in a circle at his feet and curled up in a ball before settling to sleep in a different spot.
Jamaica had been his sanctuary, a sabbatical that was no doubt coming to an end. It would take years for the island to regain its legs, for tourists to have a desire to return.
He could relocate Alex and Betty… if they wanted to leave. Blue Paradise Helicopter Tours could return when the island rebuilt.
Without work, without something occupying his mind, Trent would likely feel guilty and he’d avoided that pesky emotion for a long-ass time.
The past five days he’d felt plenty.
Has it only been five days?
Five long, grueling days that would all fold into themselves for some time to come if he stayed on the island.
Ginger whined at his feet and jumped up. The crickets grew quiet, and the night seemed to pause.
The earth rolled, a small shock that stopped nearly as soon as it began. Trent wondered if it woke his guest. Did Monica open her eyes and roll back over? Ginger was already curling back into a fuzzy ball to sleep. Ah, to be a dog…
A noise from inside the house, and Ginger lifting her head, answered his questions about Monica.
He sensed her eyes on him before she stepped beside the open French doors. “So was that a four?” he asked.
She chuckled. “Hardly. I just can’t sleep.”
Trent looked over and caught his breath. Her hair was ruffled from sleep, her eyes still half-open, or maybe half-asleep would be a better description. She wore tiny sleeping shorts and a soft pink T-shirt that said “Classy” over her breasts. Breasts that were not held up by a bra. He noticed her pert nipples through the thin fabric at the exact moment he realized he was staring.
After shifting his gaze to the landscape, and not that of the beautiful woman standing in his home, he said, “It’s a nice night not to sleep.”
She walked around him to the other cushioned chair and curled her legs under her as she sat. “It’s nice out here,” she said just above a whisper.
“In about thirty minutes it’s going to be even better.”
“Oh?”
“Sunrise.”
Monica leaned her head back with a sigh. “I don’t think I’ve watched a sunrise. Plenty of sunsets on the West Coast.”
“Do you live by the ocean?”
“No. I’m an hour and a half from the shore. I wouldn’t mind moving closer, but coastal living is so expensive.”
They sat in silence for a while. Monica was alone in whatever thoughts were running through her mind, and Trent was stealing a glance at her bare legs and comfortable presence. It dawned on him that if she wasn’t with him at that moment, he’d wonder where she was… what she was doing.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and wished the thought away. His skin heated just thinking of her. It’s chemistry. Nothing more, he told himself. The brief affairs he’d had while living on the island were always with a tourist visiting for a week, maybe two. Mutual sexual satisfaction that never ended up with the woman sitting across from him watching a sunrise in his home.
Monica might not be a tourist, and she certainly wasn’t there on a pleasure trip, but she was just as temporary.
“I was thinking—” Monica interrupted his thoughts. “You fly the helicopter for tourists, right?”