Animalistic (Tiger in Her Bed)

“I understand,” he cut her off. “It’s too soon and you’ve just come out of a bad relationship. I’m a patient man, Arielle. I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

She bit her lower lip, blushing. “You’re very kind.”

“Kind?” Trent laughed, shaking his head. “No, babe. I’m a guy with an ulterior motive. If I were kind, I would have helped you without expecting something in return. But I do. And that hardly qualifies me as a nice guy.” He folded his napkin. “Ready to check out the apartment?”

“Umm, yes.”

“Let me pay the tab first.”

~~~

Having Trent open up to her like that, well, Arielle felt like she was seeing him for the first time. It was kind of surreal having a guy like him interested in someone like her. Not that she had terribly low self-esteem. When she was in her late teens, she possessed considerable beauty. People said she looked like the younger version of Betty Page, with her naturally raven hair and pale skin. But as stress infused her daily routine, she’d let herself go. Maintaining beauty was hard work she didn’t have time for.

Arielle was deeply aware that in the past couple of years that she and Chris had drifted apart, and her ex was sometimes embarrassed by her appearance. Chris maintained his boyish good looks by going to the gym three times a week and Arielle didn’t have time for that. Chris came from an upper-middle class family, which meant he had no student debt whatsoever and parents that still offered him monetary support when he needed it. He had an easy life. While she, on the other hand, had a crazy workload and spent nights taking care of her ill mother. Now that her mother had passed away, she still couldn’t sneak in some me-time to take care of herself. She packed on sixty pounds since she graduated from high school, but she really didn’t care. She still had her money troubles to worry about, and the myriad of other problems that followed.

That was why Trent’s confession caught her off guard.

She wondered what he saw in her? Trent was drop-dead gorgeous. If he had been a sickly kid with osteosarcoma, you couldn’t tell by looking at him now. He was about six-foot-four with broad shoulders, high pectorals, big biceps, and a narrow waist. His skin was dark, a trademark of an outdoorsman, but his eyes were a vivid green. They looked like sparkling emeralds. Everywhere he went, he turned heads. When he saved her. At the party. While they dined in the restaurant. Women couldn’t help but do a double take when they saw him. A few men, too. But strangely, he wasn’t flirty at all. His gaze didn’t stray. The unwelcome attention was unheeded.

After dinner, Trent drove them to Greenwich Village in lower Manhattan to see his new apartment. The charming neighborhood was dominated by brownstones and delightful little shops. The sidewalks overflowed with pedestrians and people who lounged and enjoyed a drink in the bistro-styled cafes.

The place he mentioned turned out to be a whole five-story building with an empty ground floor storefront that was sandwiched between a sushi restaurant and a hair salon. The building belonged to friends of the family. When the tenant’s lease was up, the family had decided not to extend it and offered it to Trent for a steal.

“Are you planning to open a business here?” Arielle asked as Trent gave her a tour of the place.

“Yes. A gym and a rehab clinic for the vets. We’ll be living in the apartment on the fifth floor. But the gym will operate as a non-profit organization. Quinn wanted me to run a charitable foundation so we could do some good with the family money, and this is a cause I’m passionate about.”

“Quinn?”

“My oldest brother. He’s running the family business.”

“I think I’ve heard your brother’s name in the news. Something about New York’s most eligible bachelors. Well, your mom talked me about him too. I can’t believe you’re related to him.”

“It isn’t always easy being related to him. He’s a perfectionist and a slave driver to boot. But he was nice enough to fund this entire operation.”

“I assume you chose a gym and rehab center because of your experience in the military?”

He agreed. “I want to help my fellow vets who aren’t getting enough help from their local VA. Besides the gym on the first floor, there will be a resident doctor and a couple of physical therapists on the second floor. The third floor will be used as a meditation center for those who suffer from PTSD. When I was recovering from the osteosarcoma, meditation helped me find my bearings and focus on overcoming pain without drugs.”

“Ah, I see. A holistic approach, in addition to modern medicine. That sounds promising.”

“It worked well for me in the past, so I thought it might help those who had exhausted the usual route of healing. The people I have recruited to work here are my fellow veterans whom I served with in the military. They are all excited to be on board with this project. Let me show you our apartment on the fifth floor.”

Arielle chuckled. “Our apartment?”

“Don’t tell me you’d rather live with my mom?”

“Show me the apartment, big guy.”

The building was equipped with a newly-installed elevator and clearly had gone through extensive remodeling. The apartment boasted four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a spacious kitchen and living space. The rooftop had also undergone some renovations. What used to be a storage place f

or tenants had become an urban garden. The potted trees and plants were still in the process of being planted, but Arielle could see it would be a magnificent place to retreat once it was finished. She could picture barbeques and parties there in the future when everything was finished. Suddenly, she didn’t feel quite so bleak and hopeless anymore. Perhaps there was a silver lining to her string of bad luck. She got to meet Trent and his wonderful family. And she would get to live in a new apartment in a beautiful neighborhood. She had to let go of the past and embrace the future. Hope blossomed within her.

“Of course, the apartment needs furniture. I was hoping you could help with the shopping,” said Trent. “It’d be nice if this place had a feminine touch.”

“I’d love to. I love decorating. I used to help my dad paint the office and rearrange desks and stuff. When he was still alive, he’d paint our apartment at least twice a year. He always said he never liked the color he chose. Mom and I thought he just like painting the walls.”

“Then I trust the project is in good hands.” Trent winked. “Which room would you like to claim?”