His Perfect Imperfection

His Perfect Imperfection

By award-winning author

Natasza Waters

His Perfect Imperfection

Copyright © 2015 Natasza Waters

Print ISBN: 978-0-9947772-2-5

E-book ISBN: 978-0-9947772-1-8

First E-book Publication: July 2015

First Print Publication: December 2015

Cover design by Dawné Dominique

Edited by Write Right Edits

AL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission from the copyright holder.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgement

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Epilogue

About the Author

Books by Natasza

Dedication

Our emotional stature, to a large part, is a complicated mix of how we see ourselves; how we see others, and how we think others see us. Physical imperfections challenge us to look deeper for the beautiful person inside. Our emotional maturity is measured when we look upon a perceived physical flaw, and can see beyond skin deep. In truth, you are not just a body. You are a perfect being.

When two people love each other, they don’t love a part; they love the whole person. Love is truly blinded when it sees the soul shining from within. Love brings out the best in people. Never doubt yourself. We are all a perfect imperfection.

I’d like to dedicate this book to my gorgeous shiny wife, and all those who are living with a challenge that makes them unique, not flawed.

Ken Leonard (Natasza’s HB)

Acknowledgment

It is an odd fact that grief can be a powerful creator, and with Dawné Dominque’s amazing talent, she brought to life the adage, A picture is worth a thousand words. After the death of her brother, she created the image which would become the cover of His Perfect Imperfection. My condolences and deepest thanks to Dawné.

Diana Barrios Tan, you were my first official fan. We’ve had a lot of fun on Waters’ Warriors (our street team) and Diana came up with a pet name for HB: Hot Buns! Hope you’ll be around for another few books Diana!

A big thank you to my beta readers, Sheri Fredricks, a talented author herself. Tonya Gibbons Smalley, Chief Coordinator at InD’Tale magazine, and the captain of Waters’ Warriors, Kimberly Hickey.

Lee Macdonald (Fraser), an officer and a lady. Thank you for explaining what it’s like to run the Good Life Marathon.

Prologue

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Beneath this skin lives a soul within.

A flurry of fingers that point and eyes that gawk.

Amongst you all, I must walk.

With a shield of silver scales the mirror reflects a grotesque tale.

A dragon’s heart, I have not.

I am more than lesions, cracks and spots.

See my soul beyond its mottled case.

I shed no tears, nor hide my face.

I am the perfect imperfection.

His Perfect Imperfection

Natasza Waters

Copyright © 2015

Chapter One

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Sitting at a small table sipping coffee in her favorite Sidney hangout, Mika ignored the couples drifting by the window, smiling at the sights and one another. Being single wasn’t her biggest concern. At the ripe old age of twenty-nine, she was on the verge of becoming homeless.

As the steam curled from her cup and the death of a thousand coffee beans scented the air, she read the tiny ads in the Victoria Times newspaper. Numbingly similar, one looked the same as the next. She needed a two bedroom place by next month or move back in with her mother. She loved her mom, but she’d rather be dragged across Georgia Strait by a pod of killer whales than show up at her front door.

Her best friend, Dinky, a name she’d gotten when they were in grade one and before any of them even knew what a dinky was, had accepted her boyfriend’s proposal. Mika couldn’t afford the small house they’d rented for the last ten years on her own. The time had come to fly solo.

She sipped on her Americano and crossed out the ads, searching for a place closer to Esquimalt, where she worked. The murmur of café conversation drifted like white noise in the background as she crossed yet another ad off the page, due to the price. Her pen hovered over the next one. Less descriptive than the others, it had two bedrooms and a reference number. The price sat at the top end of her budget, but what piqued her attention was the area. Living her whole life on Vancouver Island, mainly Victoria, she knew where the wealthy people resided on large waterfront estates. She circled the ad and picked up her iPad, searching for the listing on Craigslist. There wasn’t much more information. She responded with an email.

Hello, I’m interested in the two bedroom you have available. I’m single, no pets, although I like dogs, and I have a full time job at the base. I’m quiet, don’t smoke, and my roommate is getting married. I need a place quickly. If your rental is still available, please call (604)555-8282 Mika.

She leaned back in her chair, cupping the weighty porcelain mug in both hands. Many of the properties on the eastern shore of Victoria had carriage houses, and the owners would either rent them out for the summer or in this case, long-term. At least, she hoped it was long-term.

She asked the barista for a takeout cup and transferred her coffee, snapping on the lid, and walked the one block to her house, dodging the tourists headed toward the waterfront pier.

Sidney by the Sea’s population bloomed in the spring. An eclectic mix of coffee shops, restaurants, boutiques boasting pillows with embroidered sea shells and all the marine trinkets tourists loved, nudged together to create the quaint main drag.

She shucked her light jacket and slung it over the hook near the front door. Stretching out on her couch, she faced another Saturday with nothing to do but skim the television channels. Dinky spent most nights over at Jeff’s since he’d popped the question. Maybe she’d call one of the other gals in her close-knit group of friends.

Everyone was married now, except for her and Jennifer. Cyn, Sarah, Kate, and now Dinky, had found their true loves. Jen would probably never get married. She had an image of the kind of man she wanted—rich, handsome, sweet and sexy all rolled into one guy. Good luck with that. Mika snorted. In the meantime, Jen test drove any guy who asked her for a date, unlike herself, who never dated. She exercised, ate reasonably well, and had a pretty good figure for five-foot-eight. Nope, the reason she didn’t date was far more menacing, but now that she was in remission, maybe she could take a test drive.

Her phone sang out with Bon Jovi’s ringtone, It’s my life.

Hello?

Mika, I’m Cain Sallas. You emailed about the two bedroom? He pronounced her name Mike-ah.

Her brows rose. Some woman had one helluva hunky-sounding husband. He also had an accent. It was slight, but it was there.

Yes, but it’s actually Mee-ka. Is it still available? She crossed her fingers and clenched her teeth.

It is. I’m home today. Can you come by in an hour?

Yes, and I can bring a reference from my current landlord. My friend and I have rented this house for several years.

Fine.

He gave her the address while she bounced up and down on the couch trying to write at the same time. Thank you, Mr. Sallas. I’ll leave now.

****

She almost missed the driveway. Only two brick pillars marked either side of the entrance. A line of Douglas firs and Arbutus trees, with their fawn colored bark, hid the property located on the infamous Ten Mile Point. She backed up a few feet and turned in. The road wound its way through the thick, green forest then broke from the tree line.

Wow, she said, as she slowed down to look at the expansive property.

Perched near the cliff’s edge, the two-level building sat nobly with floor-to-ceiling windows instead of walls, offering a three hundred and sixty degree view, surrounded by pristine landscaping. A hexagonal-shaped tower grew from the center, reminding her of a lighthouse. A unique mix of Victorian and contemporary. She slowed down as she passed a separate garage with five bay doors. The deep green, perfectly trimmed lawn had to be an acre in size. Flower beds with spring bulbs popped their heads from the rich soil, coloring the mounds of rocks and dirt. Amazing! They had to be a very well-to-do family.

She stopped her heap of a Toyota at the end of the driveway. Old Tess burped once then coughed before shutting down. Only a few months to go and she could finally afford a new car. She liked doing it the old-fashioned way. Cash in hand. No debt or credit cards for her.

Plucking her purse from the passenger seat, she shimmied from the car. Stepping up to the massive glass doors, she blew out a breath and rang the doorbell.

I’ll be down in a second, a deep voice came from the speaker next to the entrance.

She backed away and waited. Less than a minute later, the door opened and a big German Shepherd bounded out.

Hey, she said, squatting down. The dog sniffed her legs, then sat on its haunches, sweeping the walkway with its tail.

That’s saying something if she likes you, he said.

Mika’s gaze started from the bottom of his jeans and climbed up the man standing in the doorway. Her gaze skittered up long legs to a taut waist, clambered over the ribbed contours of his tight t-shirt fitted across the molded muscle on his upper arms, and landed on a face that shoved her nerve endings into high gear. Scruff! Shit! He had scruff covering the hard angles of his jaw. Blue eyes, so dark they almost seemed black, with infinite depth, accentuated his swarthy features. She gave the dog a scrub behind her ears.

Your dog is beautiful. Shepherds are my favorite. As if she understood, the dog gave a short bark, making Mika laugh. And you’re smart.

This is Breeze, and I’m Cain Sallas. He held out his hand.

Nice to meet you, sir. She looked at the garden beds lining the cobblestoned walkway leading in both directions from the house.

I’m renting the cottage. There wasn’t a lot of warmth in his gravelly voice or his harsh expression, which was intensified by two dark slashes of eyebrows. Follow me.

Breeze ran ahead of them. You have a beautiful home.

He nodded. I travel a lot. I’m hoping whoever rents the cottage, will look after Breeze when I’m gone. He whistled and Breeze’s ears perked up. When Cain revealed a tennis ball, she started to jump up on her hind legs. His muscled arm drew back, and he sent a homer across the massive lawn. Breeze charged after the ball at full-speed.

I wouldn’t mind taking care of Breeze at all. I work eight to four.

Good.

Cain walked to the end of the right wing of the house, and Mika looked over her shoulder. The back of the house faced the ocean, and the front was designed for entertaining. He and his wife must have a lot of parties.

Did you build this house?

No, I bought it a couple years ago.

The front yard was a mix of concrete and lush green landscaping. A large outdoor living area with a fireplace and a circular cement table for at least twelve people hovered in the middle. A large Jacuzzi sat near a wooden pergola with vines growing around the beams. During the summer months, they would be in full bloom. Metal tiki torches surrounded the entire patio.

Talk about party central, Mika thought.

Breeze returned with the ball and dropped it at her master’s feet. Cain sent it flying again as they crossed the immaculate lawn toward a cozy-looking cottage. Whitewashed with a splash of color from the red door and a tiny side yard laid with patio tiles, it would make a painter’s mouth drool.

Cain stuck his hand in his jeans pocket and pulled out a set of keys. She opened the screen and held it for him while he unlocked the door. Letting her enter first, she took a peek as she brushed by. Leaping up and down with joy as she scanned the cozy cottage wouldn’t be the most mature thing to do, but she sure felt like it. An island in the kitchen separated it from the small living room and dining area. Large windows brightened the space. Sunlight splashed across rich wood floors and built-in shelves.

The bedroom is down that hallway, he said, pointing to their left.

Plank flooring infused the cottage with warmth. She pushed the first door on the left open to reveal the bathroom and shook her head. Beautiful. Why wasn’t he asking an arm and a leg for this place? Cottages like this in Victoria were usually rented on a nightly basis to tourists. Or used as a guest house for family and friends. The marble counters and deep Jacuzzi tub sat next to a two-person shower. It was large by her standards. Normally, she had to leave her bathroom to change her mind. She carried on down the hallway and found a sizeable bedroom with a small, walk-in closet.

The second bedroom across the hall was smaller, but just as nice. When she returned to the living room, she noted his domineering presence.

Was there a misprint in the ad? She should have shut her mouth, but if there had been a mistake, she needed to know now before she dropped to her knees and begged him to let her rent this place.

Misprint? he asked, and angled his cut jaw.

Yes, I mean the ad said a thousand dollars a month. Did you forget to put a two or a three in front of the rent?

Although he didn’t smile, his expression softened. No, but if the tenant is willing to take care of Breeze and they’re responsible, then I’m satisfied. He paused. What do you do on the base?

I’m a technical writer. Policies and procedures mainly, but I create equipment guides as well. Nothing earth-shattering by any stretch.

How long have you worked there? he asked, pulling aside a curtain to let more light in.

After I earned my bachelors from UVIC, I landed the job about seven years ago. I’m not military, I’m a civilian employee.

He nodded and surveyed her. Are you moving in here alone or do you have someone else coming with you?

It’s just me. My best friend is getting married. I can’t afford the house we rent alone, and I’d rather avoid having a roommate who’s a stranger.

She wondered what he did for a living. Probably some executive in a bank or some high-flying company she’d never heard of. His looks were so rugged and sexy, she imagined his secretary thought she was the luckiest girl on the planet, never mind his wife. Speaking of which, if he wanted her to look after Breeze, where was the wife and kids?

She rummaged around in her brain cells to convince him.

I’m sure you have several people to choose from, but I promise I’m long past frat parties. She held up her finger. I have to admit my friends celebrate everything from birthdays to their kids getting a new front tooth, but we don’t swing from chandeliers anymore. She tipped her head back to look at the ceiling. See, no chandelier. We’re good.

His brooding expression lightened, and he nodded with a hint of a smile on his lips. Okay, that’s honest enough. He stepped toward the front door, and she followed. Can you move in by the first? That’s only two weeks away.

Did she dare to hope? Yes. I have a month’s rent and the damage deposit. Patting her purse, she’d come prepared.

Cain opened the screen door and she followed him. The first month’s rent is fine. I trust you’ll stay away from the light fixtures and avoid burning the place down.

With an inner sigh he couldn’t see, she added a smile that he could and dug in her purse, pulling out an envelope with the money. Here. Please, please take it.

This cottage was a godsend, and she couldn’t ever imagine moving away. He’d have to kick her out.

What do you think, Breeze?

Breeze lifted her nose in the air and barked. Guess she approves. He politely accepted the envelope from her.

Thank you. She tipped onto her toes and back down again. She thrust out her hand and ignored the zip of excitement when his warm fingers clasped her hand for a cordial shake. Would it be all right if I started moving things in this week? I’ll wait until the last weekend to bribe my friends’ husbands to help me move the big stuff.

He nodded. That would be acceptable.

He escorted Mika to her car. Thank you so much, Mr. Sallas. Surprisingly, he opened the driver’s door for her. It yielded with a loud squeak. She didn’t miss the somewhat disapproving glance he tossed at Old Tess. It runs, she spouted. I’m just saving up for a new one.

He offered her the keys to the cottage. I’ll have the tenancy agreement prepared the next time you come by. We’ll see you soon, Mika, and I’m Cain, not Mr. Sallas.

Faster than a cartoon character, she took the keys from him. They were warm from his large palm. Breeze ran up with her tongue lolling out of her mouth, and sat beside her master.

Bye, Breeze. She gave the dog a quick rub between her ears.

Driving down the paved roadway, she strayed a look in the rearview mirror. Cain stood where she’d left him. He was probably taking note of her license plate to hand it over to a friend in the RCMP to check on her. She didn’t mind. The only thing on her record was a picture and an entry that said pathetically single, but a hard worker and a good friend.

As soon as she got home, she called Dinky. With excited squeals, she told her about the new place. Dinky hurried home. They did what two best friends would do—they found the property on Google Earth and zoomed in so Dinky could whistle at her lucky find.

They stared at the semi-clear image from the satellite. The property was huge, probably four acres or so. Dinky stood behind the chair and wrapped her arms around Mika. I’m going to miss you, girlfriend.

Naw, you won’t. You’ll be too busy with all that wedded bliss and hot sex.

Dinky sat down on the corner of their scuffed desk and covered Mika’s hand. She wore her hair in braids, and the freckles on Dinky’s face made her look younger than twenty-nine. I love you, and no matter whether or not I’m getting married, you’re still my number-one bestie. She grinned at her. I want you to remember that while I’m having wild monkey sex with Jeff.

Mika burst out laughing. You are such a bitch.

I know. Dinky bobbed her head and shifted to the couch. She slid one of the million wedding magazines that littered their house onto the middle of the living room table and waved for Mika to join her. Okay, we need to plan.

Mika groaned. Since Jeff asked for her hand, they’d done nothing else. Let’s order pizza before that, she suggested. I feel like celebrating.

Dinky smirked at her. Don’t think they make a carrot, hummus, and cucumber pizza.

Psst, very funny. I mean the cheese and pepperoni, greasy kind.

Later, as they gnawed on pizza, Mika described Cain.

Where’s the missus? Dinky asked.

She shrugged, pulling a long string of cheese from the pizza, and bridging it to her mouth. He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. By the looks of him, I’d guess she’s tall, slender, model material with big blues and legs up to her eyeballs.

Dinky swallowed her mouthful. You saying this guy is hot?

Mika fanned herself. Nope, I’m saying he’s jaw-dropping, make a girl sweat, and squeeze her thighs together, hot.

Whoa, I’m helping you move in.

Mika smiled. And that—she thought, was how you conned your best friend into moving heavy boxes.

Chapter Two

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Mika clipped the bungee cord to the trunk lid and found a notch under the bumper to secure the other end. She stood back and appraised her work. Everyone driving behind her would laugh, seeing the boxes stuffed into her old Toyota. Packing was not one of her strong suits, but at least they wouldn’t land on the highway on her way to the cottage. Cain’s place was situated on the eastern shore of Victoria.

The Friday night traffic going into the city rolled along bumper to bumper. Tourists flooded in as she merged with the ferry dump from Swartz Bay headed southbound. It took her forty-five minutes on the Pat Bay Highway to reach Cain’s winding driveway at 7:30 pm. Light beamed from one end of his home. The curtain-less floor-to-ceiling windows revealed everything inside. She slowed down as she passed the main house, and saw Cain rise from the couch.

He gave a short wave back when she stuck her arm out. Mika didn’t want to interrupt him and his family at this hour. Breeze could be out and about, so she reduced her speed and came to a rolling stop in front of the cottage. Flicking the living room lights on after fiddling with the front door, she smiled. She hadn’t been dreaming.

This place rocked! Unloading the boxes, mostly pictures, bedding and books, she found a place on the built-in shelving units in the living room for her favorite hardcover books. Dinky liked to collect stuff. Without a roommate, Mika would keep the cottage an airy uncluttered space. Unzipping a leather case, she yarded her laptop out and flashed it up. An external speaker boosted the sound, and she found her favorite playlist, then turned up the volume.

With her arms full of bath towels, she strode down the hallway and tucked them neatly on the open shelving unit next to the shower. Technically, she wasn’t a renter yet, so she couldn’t fill up the huge tub with bubbles. Soon, she grinned. Very soon.

Balancing another box on her hip, she pushed open the door to her bedroom. The guys would help her with her queen size bed, but for now, she plopped the box of bed sheets and pillow cases in the corner.

It took thirteen steps to get from one end of the hallway to the other. She rounded the corner, humming to the music. Alanis Morissette streamed from her speaker. She put a little bounce in her step headed toward the remaining boxes. As Alanis’s alt-rock angst filled the air, Mika couldn’t help getting her groove on to You Oughta Know. With a sway of her hips and a twirl, she rounded the kitchen table. Hands on her waist, she shook her hips, swinging it like a good thing. Throwing her arms into the air, she booked it with a sexy move no one in the free world would ever see.

****

Sitting on his couch with his nose in a new political thriller, Cain’s eyes strayed to Breeze when her ears perked and she whined from her blanket near the fireplace. As Mika’s old Toyota passed by, he gave her a quick wave. He told her she could drop off a few things before the start of the month, and the woman seemed to follow through. He read another page, and Breeze whined again.

What’s the matter with you?

Breeze padded to the door.

You want to see her, don’t you?

Breeze turned once and barked at him.

He sighed and rose to his feet. Let’s go, then. We’ll make sure everything is working.

As they neared the cottage, he saw Mika, illuminated by the light through the screen door. A song poured from a speaker attached to a laptop. He watched as she twirled and swayed her hips, a huge smile beaming on her face. Breeze cocked her head.

Think she likes the place, girl.

Breeze trotted ahead of him, and he continued to watch Mika twirling with abandon in the living room. A sloppy, loose sweater and baggy jeans cinched at the waist with a belt, hid a tall but curvy figure. The woman was definitely in her happy place. He gave a short whistle.

Don’t think we’ll interrupt her tonight, he said, giving Breeze a few strokes when she returned to his side.

As he pet the Shepherd’s soft coat, Cain appreciated the carefree nature of his new tenant. He found Mika’s raw innocence refreshing. Her honest joy when he handed over the keys to the cottage was sincerely cute. In his profession, he didn’t run across that very often.

****

Each night, exactly at 7:30, Mika drove in the yard with more boxes jammed in her trunk. On the seventh night, he took Breeze for a walk around the property and stopped at the cottage.

Miss Makris.

Oh, hey. She opened the door. I’m not disturbing your family by coming at this hour, am I?

He shot a look at Breeze and then back at Mika. A messy but very cute bundle of curls topped the woman’s head, and small, gold hoops dangled from her lobes. She didn’t wear much makeup. A natural beauty with big, dark eyes and narrow features hinted at something other than Caucasian. If there was one thing he knew about, it was women. Most used modern cosmetic miracles to help soften the rough edges, but Mika didn’t need any. She’d been blessed with long dark lashes and blush cheeks.

No, not at all. He scanned the cottage and saw the few personal items she’d brought to make the space her own.

Come in. Hey, Breeze.

Breeze didn’t wait for another invitation. She squeezed past his leg, trotted into the living room and flopped down on the rug as if she owned the place.

I’m just filling up the kitchen cupboards, Mika said, sliding past him, and quickly placed the box she’d emptied onto a pile of flattened cardboard by the window.

I have a recycle bin near the garage. Leave them on the porch, I’ll get rid of those, he offered.

She nodded her thanks.

I checked everything—oven, fridge—before listing the place. They should be working. If something isn’t, let me know.

It all works just fine. In fact, I’ve got juice and water in the fridge. Would you like something? She paused after opening the cabinet.

No, I’m fine, thanks.

He watched her stretch to her tippy toes and grasp a glass from the top shelf.

I can’t wait till this Saturday to finally move in. Think I’ve convinced most of my friends’ husbands to help me get the heavy furniture over here.

He watched as she filled the glass with ice from the freezer and topped it up with water. That’s good. I’ve, uh, got to fly out on Monday. On the weekend I can show you where Breeze’s food and bowls are. I’ll give you the code to the main house. He didn’t trust many people, mainly women, but something about Mika rang true, and maybe a little naive.

Of course.

Good.

I don’t want to disturb your family too early, so I’ll come by around nine?

He cleared his throat. She’d mentioned family a few times. He might as well clarify now. I don’t have a family.

Mika gazed at him for a second, allowing his comment to sink in. You live in that enormous house by yourself?

He jerked his shoulders. Breeze and me.

She surveyed him with her intelligent eyes. He almost chuckled. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a questioning look like hers. She probably thought he was gay. Now that was funny.

Without a hitch she said, I’ll be over early Saturday with a load of boxes if that’s all right, and then the guys will follow in the U-Haul I rented later on.

That’s fine. He called Breeze to his side and tossed a, Good night, over his shoulder.

He liked his privacy. As long as Mika didn’t invade his space, their arrangement would work.

****

Toweling his hair, he heard the rumble of an engine as someone drove past the house Saturday morning. Wandering to the bedroom window, he looked out to see Mika parking an old pickup she must have borrowed. She released the tailgate and pulled a wood plank from the bed, settling it on the ground. With a couple bounds, she was inside the truck bed and returning with her arms filled.

Tossing the towel over the leather lounger, he walked into the massive walk-in closet. Half of it was empty, even though it held his suits and a varied selection of shirts and slacks. Fine wood cabinetry stored his cufflinks, socks and other clothes. He wouldn’t pack for his job until Sunday night. The suits, he carried on to the plane. Image was everything in his profession, and this job had some unique qualities.

Technically, spending a week in Fiji with a British executive wouldn’t be considered a hardship. He mixed business with pleasure as a matter of course, with a satisfying end for his clients. He finished dressing, and headed downstairs.

Settling in front of his computer, he searched for his client on the internet. He read magazine columns, news articles, and memorized the business