SEATTLE CINDERELLA: FOUR-IN-ONE COLLECTION Read online

When they all rose at the same time, Zella automatically looked down at Trevor as she started to reply. But when he stood to his full height, she found herself looking at his collar instead of his eyes.

  She looked up. Sometimes she was at eye level with a man, but she seldom had to look up, never if she wore fancy dress shoes instead of her nice flat sneakers.

  Standing beside Trevor, for the first time, for one of the rare times in her life, she actually had to look up into a man’s eyes.

  He had lovely, sky-blue eyes that contrasted strikingly with his thick brown hair and a slightly larger than average nose that made him even more masculine. Just like it went in fiction, he truly was tall, dark, and handsome.

  Really tall. Really, really tall.

  Since she was now going to be a writer, for her first project she could create a fictional Trevor as her perfect boyfriend, writing about him so her mother would think it was real. Her mother wouldn’t have to know that the relationship she was going to allude to was made up. It would even be plausible—plausible, she was already thinking of writerly words—if she saw him every Friday.

  As soon as she worked up a story, she’d let him read it, and then “accidentally” let her mother see it.

  Zella grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it. See you then.”

  Chapter 3

  Because he was the first to arrive, Trevor unpacked the book club’s boxes and started making the coffee. Coffee.

  He nearly groaned out loud as he automatically raised his hand and swiped at his nose.

  As a teen he’d done it with pop, but he’d never had coffee come out his nose.

  Unconsciously, he shuddered at the memory. His nose had burned for the longest time, and an hour later he thought he’d coughed up some coffee. Quite frankly, it was the most disgusting thing that had ever happened to him. At least it had been only lukewarm. If not, it would have done some serious damage.

  He wasn’t sure he was ready to drink coffee again, but everyone else would want it. Maybe except for Sheila, who had actually seen the coffee come out his nose. Then, bless her heart, she’d given him a handful of napkins and helped wipe up the mess.

  Just as he plugged in the coffee urn, a shuffle echoed behind him.

  He turned and looked down. Way down. The woman was more than a foot shorter than he was, yet somehow she still ruled the roost. Even in the back room at the library.

  Sheila stood before him, her arms crossed, foot tapping, echoing in sharp raps on the tile floor. “You’re not going to tell her, are you?” Her accusation rang with censure.

  Trevor spun around and strode toward the folded tables leaning against the wall and dragged one out so he didn’t have to look at her as he replied. “How can I?” He yanked the table legs down and snapped the locking mechanisms into place, probably a little harder than necessary. “I’m her favorite author and she’s got stars in her eyes, thinking it would be exciting to get her picture taken with me. But that’s not what I want. This is the guy I want her to see.” He thumped his fist to his chest. “Trevor Jones, windshield repair technician and ordinary guy.”

  “Tell her. You’ll still be just as ordinary. Trust me.”

  He sighed and pulled the table up to stand on its four legs. Only Sheila could be so blunt to the point of painful and get away with it. He never had to worry about his ego getting too big with her around. Some days he wondered about her husband. Often he contemplated sending the man flowers. “I can’t. My agent has done a lot of work and marketing in building the persona of T. J. Zereth. But he’s not real. I’m nothing like that guy.” The picture of himself as the elusive mystery author flashed through his brain. Between the trademark black fedora, large dark sunglasses, and creative lighting used in the photo shoot, even his own mother hadn’t recognized him when she saw his photo all glitzed up on the website, or the smaller version in the back of his books. No one but his best friends, his family, his pastor, his agent, and his writing group knew his secret, and he intended to keep it that way. Until the time was right. Which wasn’t today.

  Before he could tell Sheila that he wanted to make an announcement to the group that his identity was to be kept confidential, Zella walked into the room.

  He gulped at the sight of her. As an author, he knew love at first sight was only fiction, but something in his brain had obviously misfired. Besides, technically this wasn’t the first time he’d seen her. It was the second. Third if he counted going to the coffee shop separately. “You’re early,” he muttered, barely able to find his voice.

  She nodded. “Yes. I need to talk to you. I wrote something, and I need your permission to use your name.”

  He almost asked her which name but bit his lip instead, hoping he wasn’t going to draw blood.

  “My mother wants to set me up with the son of a friend of hers, so my plan is to show her that I have a boyfriend so they’ll leave me alone. Can I use your name for my fictitious boyfriend? I need someone I’ll see often.”

  Trevor tipped his head to study Zella. She didn’t look like a woman who would be desperate for a boyfriend, which made him wonder why her mother would be so pushy. At the same time, that probably meant she didn’t want to be in a relationship with him either, so in that case, a fake relationship was better than no relationship, and he really liked the part about seeing him often. “Sure. I can do that for you.”

  She pulled a notepad out of her pocket. “Great. What do you do for a living?”

  Before he could respond, Sheila raised a finger in the air. “He’s a—”

  “—a windshield repair technician,” Trevor finished. “I work for a local auto glass shop. I repair and replace broken windshields mostly.”

  Zella’s brows crinkled as he interrupted Sheila, but he couldn’t take the chance that she’d say too much. One day soon he would tell Zella the whole story, but not today.

  Sheila rested her fists on her hips. “Unfortunately he sometimes inhales a little too much of that glue.”

  Trevor smiled sweetly. “Ignore her. She sometimes inhales too much correction fluid. Look, everyone’s starting to arrive. Let’s sit down.”

  While everyone came in and caught up on chitchat, Trevor answered a myriad of other personal questions—what kind of car he drove, where he lived, and added which church he went to. He held his breath and waited for a response, nearly sagging in relief when she smiled and told him what church she went to and that she was a relatively new believer. It was important to him that any girlfriend—or more if things progressed—be a woman of faith.

  Before he could ask if she wanted to join him at church on Sunday, everyone sat down and they were ready to start.

  Zella pulled a larger pile of papers out of her tote and looked at Sasha. “I read the chapters you gave me, and I want to tell you how much I enjoyed them. This is a really great story.”

  Sasha beamed. “Thank you. Did you bring something for us? I’ll gladly critique a chapter or two for you.”

  Zella shook her head. “I’m still working on it. I didn’t get a whole chapter done. Hopefully next week.”

  “What genre is it?”

  She glanced at Trevor then turned back to Sasha. “It’s a romance. The G-rated kind.” She looked around the table, making eye contact with everyone there. “I know we went over four chapters last week, but I really didn’t have a chance to read them in detail or connect what belonged to who. What does everyone here write?”

  Trevor’s stomach clenched tighter and tighter as everyone in the circle gave a short description of what genre they wrote and a few details, until it was his turn.

  “I write mysteries. Any gory parts and deaths are all offstage, and the plot and subplots are the main characters trying to figure out who done it. That’s about it.”

  A silence hung in the air. He knew everyone was waiting for him to tell Zella his pen name. Especially Jorg, who was leaning forward in his chair.

  Sheila cleared her throat. “It’s always a challenge to try to figure out who
the villain is in every story Mr. Jones writes. Isn’t that true, everyone?”

  At the formal rendition of his real name, everyone glanced around at each other and a few nodded.

  He wanted to mouth a thank-you to Sheila, but he couldn’t with Zella watching him.

  There was a pause as everyone began shuffling through their pages. This time, Trevor was in no hurry. This time, one of the chapters they were going to discuss was his. He didn’t want Zella to recognize his style and associate him with his pen name.

  Sheila tapped her pencil to the top of her stack. “Let’s get to it, everyone. We’ll start with Trevor’s chapter. It’s from his latest project, titled Till Death.”

  He froze in his chair, waiting for Zella’s comments when it became her turn to speak. She answered the questions the group had set up as their guidelines for critiquing chapters then straightened the papers and handed the pile to him. “This was really good; there wasn’t much I could say. Except that the death of your victim should have been more subtle. I think he should have been poisoned. You need him to die with no physical injury and without evidence.”

  He frowned. “I think you’re right. But how?”

  Zella broke out into a grin and rubbed her hands together. “I can help you. I’m a pharmacy technician. I can ask my boss, and he can help me look up all sorts of things that could kill someone and leave no trace.”

  Trevor pressed his palm over his heart. “I think I might be falling in love. Will you have lunch with me tomorrow? Then we can discuss it further without boring the rest of the group.”

  Shiela and Jorg turned and stared at him, so he waggled his eyebrows in response.

  Zella’s eyes widened. “I…I guess so.”

  He smiled. He hadn’t been kidding that he might be falling in love. This was going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

  Or, he hoped, more.

  Chapter 4

  Zella slid the piece of paper with her notes across the table toward Trevor. “I started making a list, but then I realized that you’d have to have a prescription for those things. Either that or your character would have to break into the pharmacy. So that wouldn’t work. Then I thought of arsenic, but a person would get very sick before he died, so it’s not subtle enough for what you need. I thought antifreeze would be better, but it can take up to twenty-four hours to die from that, too. The fastest way to poison someone legally would be good old-fashioned carbon monoxide.”

  He broke out into a grin. “Legally? Isn’t that an oxymoron?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He had the nerve to laugh. While he did, Zella reached forward to grab the last grape out of the plastic bowl between them on the picnic table. “You snooze, you lose,” she said as she popped it into her mouth.

  Trevor sighed and covered his stomach with his hands. “That’s fine with me. I ate way too much. I meant to make just a light picnic lunch, but I couldn’t decide what to bring and ended up packing more than we needed.”

  Yet, judging from all the empty bowls and containers, they’d managed to eat almost everything. She thought that having a picnic lunch at Cougar Mountain Regional Wildland Park was a great idea, although it certainly hadn’t been what she’d expected. She’d expected to do takeout.

  Trevor stood. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t sit any longer. Would you like to take a walk on one of the trails instead of going back? Unless you have other plans.”

  The only thing she had to do was go home and face more questions from her mother about the new man she’d been seeing and when she was planning on marrying him. While it warmed her heart to see both Cindy and Annie happily married, she still wasn’t sure she believed in happily-ever-afters. Not only did she live with the example of her mother’s first failed marriage looming in front of her every day, two of her workmates at the pharmacy were on the brink of divorce.

  She truly hoped for the best for both Cindy and Annie and that they really had found true love at first sight, as unrealistic and impractical as that may be. For herself, she wasn’t going to take the chance of following in her mother’s footsteps with falling in love too fast and then falling out of love just as fast. When she met the man of her dreams, first they would be friends. Then if they were still together they could get engaged after three or more years, and then they’d stay engaged for a year before they got married, ensuring they weren’t rushing into a lifelong commitment they would both later regret.

  Zella looked up at Trevor, waiting patiently for her while she stood there staring at the trees, lost in her own little world.

  He smiled, bringing out the most adorable little crinkles in the corners of his eyes. “Welcome back. You looked lost in thought for a while.”

  The heat she felt in her cheeks had nothing to do with the warm Indian summer day. “Sorry. I’d love to go for a walk. A nice long walk.” Maybe until midnight, when she could sneak into bed without having to talk her mother.

  She helped Trevor scoop the empty containers into the cooler and load everything into his car, and then they headed for the entrance to the Coal Creek Trail. As they entered the path, Zella removed her sunglasses and hung them on the neckline of her T-shirt. Despite the bright sunshine, Trevor wasn’t wearing sunglasses, even though most people had been.

  He turned to her. “This isn’t a five-minute walk in the park. Are you sure you want to go for a hike? I shouldn’t have sprung it on you without warning.”

  Zella nodded. “I love this kind of stuff. I haven’t been on a good hike for a long time. This actually reminds me of the last time I was out this way on my mountain bike.”

  Trevor’s eyes widened. “Mountain bike? I’ve always wanted to do the Snoqualmie Valley Trail, but my friends thought I was crazy.”

  “It is kind of a crazy trail. It’s about thirty miles. It’s not a casual ride.”

  “You’ve done it?”

  Zella shook her head. “No. I’d like to one day, though.”

  She almost thought he was going to ask if she wanted to partner with him to do the ride, but he’d stopped talking. Not that she minded. In fact, as much as she enjoyed the quiet sounds of nature as they walked, Zella also appreciated the comfortable silence of being with someone who didn’t need to fill every second of airtime with talking.

  After about a mile, Trevor broke out into a grin.

  Zella looked around them but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “Is something funny? Am I missing something?”

  He stopped walking and shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I hadn’t thought about it before we got here, but I’ve got a scene coming up where my antagonist chases my primary female character through the woods. As I’m walking, I’m getting a mental picture what it would be like.”

  Zella couldn’t help it. She rolled her eyes. “That’s so B-movie. You wouldn’t really do that, would you?”

  “I wouldn’t have her trip or anything. Besides, she escapes. I haven’t figured out how yet, but she escapes without being hurt. No close calls. She’s just scared but smart about it. She doesn’t look back; she doesn’t trip; she just hightails it out safely. But since she’s so fast, she doesn’t see the guy who was chasing her.” He rested his fists on his hips and looked around them. “I have an idea. How about if I chase you through here, and then I can get a better idea of what I’m writing about. Kinda like research. If this were a movie, they’d call it method acting.”

  Zella waved one finger in the air in front of his face. “Not a chance. I have a better idea. If you’re having your character fleeing for her life, then I should chase you.”

  She waited, expecting to be chastised, but instead his face lit up. “That’s a great idea. Think you could catch me if you really tried?” He looked down her legs then down to her sneakers.

  “Maybe. I’ll count to five to give you a head start, but you’d better run for your life.” Zella pulled a pen out of her back pocket and held it up like a knife, ready to stab him.” ‘Cause I’m gon
na kill you, missy.”

  A rush of power surged through her. Of all the men she’d dated, she’d always been a bit taller, a bit leggier, and on the track, for those who had the ego to race her, a bit faster. She had a feeling that of the women Trevor dated, he probably didn’t come across many who nearly equaled him in height, and therefore, probably speed. It had been a few years since she’d played on the basketball team in school, but back then, she’d been the fastest on the girls’ team and a worthy opponent for the boys.

  Trevor opened his eyes as wide as saucers and covered his mouth with his hands. “Eek!” he screamed like a girlie-girl, which, at his size, was utterly ridiculous. He raised his hands in the air. “Don’t hurt me!” he squeaked, in what was probably his best imitation of a distressed heroine, spun around, and bolted off.

  Zella counted quickly to five and took off after him.

  For an alleged damsel in distress, he ran pretty fast.

  The air burned in her lungs, but she pushed herself hard and was actually catching up on him.

  She wondered if he heard her because he lowered his shoulders and increased his speed marginally.

  Then, just like a dumb blond in a cheap movie, he ran off the path, into the trees.

  Like the classic evil villain, Zella called out, “You cannot escape!” and followed.

  With the change in terrain from the well-traveled path, she lost a little momentum, but so did he. Trevor now had to crash and push through the overhanging branches, which, at his height, greatly impeded his speed. He raised both his arms to shield his face as he ran. And with Trevor clearing the path before her, Zella started to catch up.

  She wondered if he heard her closing in because he turned back toward the cleared path. If she were a real bad guy, she supposed this should have made her even angrier, so she roared her anger and tried to run faster.

  A few yards ahead of her, Trevor almost made it to the clearing, but his foot caught in a root, his arms flew up in the air, and down he went.

  Unlike the movies, there was no slow motion. He covered his face with his arms a split second before he hit the ground with a resounding thump so hard she could hear the air expel from his lungs.