What You Don't Know (Sequel to "Secret Love")(Hunter Hayes/James Marsden)

Bobcats Don't Fetch

"Act as though you are happy to see him," Jeremy had suggested. "He has been very ornery since you left, so it may help if he believes you missed him as well." Mr. Willakers had shuffled some papers on his desk, waiting for Bethany to respond. She did not, instead just worried her lip between her teeth.

"Bethany, this is going to be hard to hear, but I'm not sure you're really on the same page yet, so I'm going to put it plainly." Jeremy Willakers scratched his five o'clock shadow and sighed regretfully. "The only way I can think to put it is to say that Trenton is, quite possibly, very much in love with you. For this to work, you have to play with that. In this game, that piece of information, assuming it's the truth, is your Ace. There is nothing more vulnerable than a man in love."

Bethany's eyes were wide with fright and surprise. Trenton in love with her? How could that have possibly happened? He had always been so aloof, so bored in her presence. It could not be true, could it? If it was, then Mr. Willakers was correct, and she would, indeed, need to use that to her advantage. If it was not true, however...

"What if it isn't true, Mr. Willakers? What if Trenton isn't in love with me?"

She could practically feel his eyes boring into her face, even through the dark sunglasses he still wore.

"Then you'll have to make him love you."

It had seemed an easy enough route at the time, sitting safely in a tiny, secluded office with two strong men who could easily beat the tar out of a weasel like Trent. Now, face to face with the dark cherry wood of Trenton's windowless office door, she was not so sure she could do it. How would she make him love her, when she could barely stand the sight of him? How could she act like she was happy to see him, when she would be happier never seeing him again?

A tall, rail-like man was suddenly standing in front of her, a serious look on his face. She smiled in return, her bravado kicking in with a fierce energy.

"Hi," she said, proud that her voice had not broken on the word. She stuck her hand out in front of her for the man to shake, and introduced herself. He just grunted in reply, and pointed to his nametag.

"It's nice to meet you, Rory," she replied, pulling back her hand. He obviously was not the friendly type, this one. No wonder he works for Trenton, she thought, glancing warily around the bleached-white waiting room. It was like an asylum in here: no bright colors, no flowers, and all of the seats were plushy and grey. Bethany had tried to redecorate the gloomy space when she had worked with him before. She had put in a brown side table, and attached a purple lampshade to the solitary lamp in the room. She had begged to paint the room a cheerier shade, but Trenton had adamantly refused.

She probably should not have been surprised that all of her small adjustments had been removed. Jeremy Willakers' words stuck in her brain, though, and she wondered if he had taken them out to rid himself of her memory, if any reminder of her had been too painful for him to bear.

She almost laughed aloud at that ridiculous thought. Trenton McDermott was a lot of things, but a man of emotion he was not. He was as likely to mourn her disappearance as a bobcat was to play fetch with a stick.

"So, is your boss here?" Bethany asked, still smiling at Rory.

"He's in the office," the man replied stiffly, then pushed past her and left the building abruptly.

"Okay, then," she whispered, watching him for an unnecessarily long period of time. When she could no longer see him, she turned back to the door, and knocked gently.

Silently, she hoped that he would not hear it. Maybe this was all a dream, and the door would open and everything would evaporate into dream space, and she would be able to lock it away with all of her other memories of this office, this door, the doorknob that was even now turning...

"Bethany." He nodded in acknowledgement, and ushered her inside. He closed the door behind her, and pulled the thick cigar from his mouth. Bethany's smile froze on her face as she stared at him. He was no different than before, except perhaps a little wider around the middle. His horrible golden-tinted sunglasses, his smoky smell, the slimy Vaseline that slickened his lips. He even had his cigar, though she suspected he had never actually smoked one. No smoke ever came from  his mouth, and he never inhaled through his shiny mouth when the cigar was situated between it. She remembered it burning her skin when he dropped one in her lap; she remembered the ashes drifting off on the wind.

"It's..." she cleared her throat and looked down, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, and listening to the pounding in her eardrums. "It's really good to see you, Trenton." She forced herself to smile at him, and then, surprising herself even more than Trent, she wrapped her arms around him and clung to him for a moment.

Trenton was undoubtedly surprised. She pulled out of his reach before he could return the embrace, but he narrowed his eyes at her blushing skin. He made a noise in the back of his throat, and placed the cigar back in between his teeth.

"You, too," he replied finally, moving around his desk and sitting down with his hands folded on his stomach. He watched her adjust her skirt before she sat down, and noticed how she avoided meeting his eyes, and how her delicate ivory skin brightened with red every time she would look his way.

He wondered over that. Was she nervous? Excited? Why had she hugged him? He had hoped to win her affections before he completed his assignment, but he had never in his wildest dreams anticipated such an immediate shift in her attitude towards him.

He shrugged internally. It was probably just a fluke. It was her nerves making her do things so unnatural to her temperament.

Bethany planted her feet firmly on the ground to keep them from bouncing. As Trenton spoke, filling her in on the few decisions that had been made before her arrival, and explaining her new duties, she paid strict attention, forcing herself to make eye contact and keep the fear out of her posture. She would not be cowed by this man anymore.

She only hoped she could stick to her resolve.