Of all the people in the world to have rescued her on the side of the road, who would ever have imagined that it would be Juliette’s Jesus freak friend. The guy who had taken her tightly-wound sister for a motorcycle ride that had rocked her world and turned her life inside out.
But Phoebe had imagined him to be one of those starving musician types with smooth faces and soulful eyes. Not this rough and tumble, hint of a five o’clock-shadowed, gentleman-in-jeans kind of guy. He dressed like a rocker right out of the 90’s with his shaggy hair badly in need of a trim, his worn black denim, and scuffed boots. But his face was bright and open, his eyes clear. This guy oozed…happiness? No, that wasn’t quite it. But he practically vibrated, like he was plugged into an alternate source of energy, lit up from the inside out.
Maybe he’d just had some good coffee before they crossed paths at the gas station.
They reached the door and Trevor lifted his fist to knock. Phoebe rolled her eyes and unceremoniously pushed open the door and pulled him inside. “We’re here!” she called out.
Bob, Juliette’s scruffy rescue dog, came bounding into the tiny foyer, his toenails scrabbling on the tile. Close on his heels was a frantic Mr. Bobo, the next-door neighbor’s miniature terrier who was likely over for some play time. Both dogs pulled up short at the sight of Trevor, but Phoebe crouched down to greet them, and after some serious sniffing and circling, the animals granted their approval of both the new arrivals.
Through the arched opening, Juliette, Renata, Gia, and Victor all watched the exchanged greetings with varying expressions. Victor’s observant gaze darted back and forth between Trevor and Phoebe, his slashing eyebrows raised in question, but his mouth was already curling up in welcome. Juliette, who sat beside him, one hand in his, smiled brightly, looking suspiciously tickled to see them standing there together. In fact, Gia wore the same look, only amped up about five notches. She was bouncing just the slightest bit on a big cushion on the floor. Gia already knew Trevor through her best friend, Ricky; he was Ricky’s cousin, if she remembered right. It was Gia who had added Trevor to the list of Monday ManDates, the blind date intervention the sisters had concocted to get Juliette out of her post-breakup slump just over a year ago.
Renata, bless her stiff upper lip, simply stared at them, her arms crossed over her bulging belly, apparently expecting an explanation for the hold up. Her distant expression told Phoebe it wouldn’t matter what she had to say in her own defense. She’d already been weighed, measured, and found wanting. Nothing new there.
“Officer Jarrett,” Phoebe purred as she rose to stand, loathing the way she automatically slipped into her sleaze-girl persona in reaction to Renata’s judgment. But for as long as she could remember, this was the modus operandi with the two of them; Renata judged Phoebe, and Phoebe did her best to live up to that criticism. At least in front of Renata.
Slipping her arm back through Trevor’s, Phoebe continued in her overly-honeyed voice. “Look who the cat dragged in!”
“I take it you’re the cat,” Renata murmured, loudly enough for the whole room to hear. But the tone of her voice made Phoebe pause. She didn’t sound angry. In fact, she sounded like she was teasing her. Not taunting her. Not challenging her. Just ribbing her.
“Mrrowrr,” Phoebe purred, and Renata actually grinned. But Phoebe felt Trevor tense beside her, felt the muscles of his arm bunch beneath her fingers. He didn’t move otherwise, but she sensed his withdrawal. He probably wasn’t interested in being the toy she batted around in front of her family. She couldn’t blame him. So she pulled away first, making it her move rather than his, and stepped back a little, indicating with a sweep of her hand that he should go ahead of her into the living room.
From the corner of her eye, she studied Trevor as he crossed to where Victor and Juliette stood, the two of them having risen to greet them. Sometimes it still surprised Phoebe to see Victor in her sister’s corner of the couch, his arm draped territorially around Juliette’s shoulders. Everyone knew that was Jules’ spot, and the fact that she’d surrendered it to Victor spoke volumes about his place in her heart; maybe even more than the pretty new engagement ring she wore on her finger.
Trevor and Victor exchanged one of those handshake-hug combos guys do, complete with some back-thumping, and maybe even a grunt or two. He gave Jules a quick side-hug, and then Gia, who had leapt up, too. Side hugs? Was he afraid of breasts?
As comfortable as the guy seemed in his own skin, she found the notion oddly incongruous. Besides, hadn’t he taken Jules for long rides on his motorcycle, with her pressed like a spider monkey to his back, her legs wrapped around his thighs? No avoiding full body contact there.
Then, again, this was the same guy who’d told Jules he had a rule about not being alone with a woman inside her home. Good grief. Being alone with men in her home was how Phoebe made her living. I guess I won’t be snapping any pictures of Trevor Zander, she mused. A tiny plume of disappointment swirled around inside her before she caught herself and almost snorted out loud over the direction of her thoughts. Aidez-moi! What are you thinking?
Victor introduced Trevor to Renata, who apologized for staying seated. “I just got comfortable, which is quite a feat for me right now. I don’t mean to be rude—I hope you don’t mind.” Trevor assured her he was not offended at all.
Phoebe crouched down to give Bob and Mr. Bobo a little more attention. The dogs kept her focus off the man who was explaining to everyone the circumstances of how they’d met. She didn’t want to see Renata roll her eyes, or Jules with that ‘you know I love you anyway’ look on her face.
“I honestly don’t know why I stopped at the gas station today. I was already running late—”
“Nothing new there,” Victor cut in, clapping Trevor on the shoulder. “You’ll be late to your own funeral, my friend.”
“Dude. Seriously, right?” Trevor gave a good-humored chuckle, obviously unaffected by the teasing. “But I got that nudge—you know, the one in your gut that makes you sit up straight?—and I pulled in and topped off my tank. All two gallons worth of fuel. So I sat there, waiting, wondering who or what I was there for.” Trevor nodded toward Victor. “That’s when I texted you that I was on a mission, so you had to give me extra time.”
“My sister was your mission?” Renata asked skeptically.
“Actually, she was.” Trevor spoke with complete confidence. Phoebe still wasn’t watching him, but she listened carefully, wondering how he’d make her sound. If he said anything along the lines of “little lady” or made fun of her vehicular negligence, she’d be ticked. At him for shaming her in front of her sisters, but more so at herself because it was her own carelessness that had gotten her into the situation in the first place.
“As soon as I heard the pump speak to me, I knew I was at the right place at the right time.”
Phoebe frowned. Her lewd comment had been a sign to him? This was new to her, too. And she thought she’d heard them all before; every pick-up line in the book.
“The pump spoke to you?” Gia wasn’t really that gullible, but she often bit first when the opportunity arose. It sometimes made her come across as empty-headed, but Phoebe knew it was because her little sister was guileless, and she thrived on getting glimpses into other peoples’ lives. If there was a story to tell, she was all ears, responding readily to every cue.
“Actually, your sister spoke to—well, to someone—” Trevor broke off, and she could hear the smile in his voice and hoped he’d keep her comment to himself. She steeled herself for it anyway, accustomed to men taking her words and twisting them for their benefit. “But because she didn’t have a car, she was standing directly behind the pump, and I didn’t see her. So for a moment, it did appear that the pump was, um…paying me a compliment.”
Renata laughed out loud. “Oh no. What did she say? What did you say, Phoebe?”
Phoebe plastered a saucy smile on her lips and angled her gaze so she was looking at her sister sideways. Then in dulcet tones, she murmured, “I said ‘I wouldn’t mind licking you myself, big guy.’”
“Phoebe Gustafson!” Jules gasped from across the room, and then covered her mouth with her hand. The sound of stifled giggles was unmistakable. Renata’s eyes just widened, but she said nothing.
“I didn’t mean Trevor.” Phoebe assured them. “I didn’t even know he was there.” But then she remembered who she’d been thinking of when she’d said it so she averted any questions by adding, “Not to say that you’re not lickable, Trevor Zander.”
“Phoebe!” That got the expected response out of Renata.
“Who did you mean, then?” Gia asked, her wide smile lighting up her whole face. So much for averting. But before she had to pull an answer out of her hat, Victor saved the day.
“You sound like Juliette,” he laughed, his arm around his fiancée’s waist. They were still standing, Trevor nearby. And Trevor still wore that crazy grin. Did he ever not smile? “She’s always licking things to mark her territory.”
Phoebe pointed at the couple. “Exactly! Jules had just texted that she wouldn’t let anyone lick my scone before I got here.” She wasn’t going to outright lie about who her intended victim was, but she had no problem alluding to the idea that she’d meant her pumpkin scone. That was all Renata needed; to know that Phoebe had entertained the notion of licking Victor or Tim. She’d never hear the end of it.
“Honestly,” Trevor interjected, “I don’t think I’ve ever been propositioned that way before, and there was no way on earth I was going to let that one slide. So I rounded the pump and got even more validation.”
Phoebe’s body tensed, waiting to hear condescension settle into his tone.
“A beautiful woman on a beautiful day getting ready to walk a block to her car with a heavy gas can in hand. I mean, come on. If that wasn’t a ‘stop and enjoy the wonders I’ve created’ nudge, I don’t know what is.”
Phoebe did look at him now. She honestly couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, if he was patronizing her or complimenting her. In fact, he almost made it sound as though she’d been the answer to his dilemma, not the other way around.
“Well, thank you for getting her here safely,” Renata spoke up, apparently ready to send the guys on their way and get the G-FOURce meeting started. She glanced down at her watch, a chunky gold thing Phoebe remembered their mother wearing. “Shall we?”
And that was that. Victor, in his customary reserved way, leaned down and kissed Juliette on the temple in farewell. He murmured something in her ear that made her smile and dip her chin to hide her blush, and then the two men headed toward the door, promising to be back in a couple hours.
“I’m taking Juliette out to dinner tonight, so I’m laying down the law here, ladies,” Victor warned from where he stood just inside the foyer, legs braced wide beneath him in a posture that said he was brooking no arguments. “No crying after I leave, got it?” He pointed at each one of the sisters. “This G-FOURce needs to be a tear-free zone today.”
Trevor, passing close to Phoebe who had stood to say goodbye, offered her his hand once again, and said, “For all the right reasons, I’m glad you ran out of gas today. It was good to finally meet you, Phoebe Gustafson.” Then he nodded, slipped around her, and followed Victor out.