No Strings Attached (22 page)

She swatted his hand when he offered to cover her purchases. Still, he was fast with the cash. He watched as she bought items for everyone but herself. She was a giver.

His arms were soon filled with a handmade quilt for his sister Shaye, a pale driftwood wreath for Nicole Archer, a terrarium for Jenna, and a small stained glass window for Molly Malone. She had yet to decide who would get the button and coin necklaces.

“Need help?” Young Chuck from the diner found them in the crowd. The kid had been working with Sophie’s gardener and, from what Dune had heard from Violet, was doing a great job. The boy had a green thumb, according to Luis. The gardener was happy to have a helper for the summer.

“I need to make a trip to the SUV,” Dune told Chuck. He was still driving his parents’ Tahoe and glad for the cargo space. “Stick with Sophie. Carry whatever she buys.”

Chuck flexed his arm. “I’m strong.”

Dune returned moments later to find Sophie in the children’s aisle. Chuck was buried beneath arts and crafts. His vision was limited. He squinted between an amber mason jar filled with dark hot chocolate—the recipe attached—and a decoupage paperweight featuring the map of Florida.

Sophie held up a container of pink, yellow, and blue bath salts. “Aren’t these pretty?” she asked.

“Your bathwater will look like a rainbow,” said Chuck. Sophie took two.

Dune experienced a purely male moment as he looked at her. She was soft and sweetly curved. Somewhere between the Sneaker Ball and the Civic Center, he’d begun to picture her naked. He could see her wet, soapy, and slick. The image forced him to shift his stance. Damn erection.

He handed Chuck the keys to the SUV. “Go out the front door, third lane on the left, fifth car down, a blue Tahoe.”

“Load ’em up,” the boy said as he squeezed through the crowd.

There were so many children’s creations, and Sophie wanted one of each. Dune watched as she fell in love with an origami swan. Next, she couldn’t pass up an Empire State Building built with root beer bottle caps. Someone had drunk a lot of soda.

She bought an angel made from a paper towel roll. The roll was wrapped in wide lace ribbon and the wings were bent copper. It had a tinfoil halo.

Sophie praised the third grade girl who’d crafted the angel. Her words caused the girl to cover her face and blush. Sophie went on to order a dozen additional angels for Christmas.

“I’m going to hang them on my tree,” she told Dune.

He nodded. “They’ll make nice ornaments.”

“I have tanks,” a young boy called from the next table. “They’re made of tire tread.”

Cool toys, Dune thought. Made from thick, durable belted rubber, the tanks would tough it out for a lot of years. One tank had a Michelin stripe and another said DUNLOP. He bought the Dunlop for his four-year-old cousin.

A ceramic giraffe caught his eye, one similar to the one he’d made as a kid. It was far better crafted, he noted. He laid out two dollars.

It took him a moment to realize Sophie had left his side. Where had she gone? He turned and found her standing near the pet station. Dwarf hamsters in clear plastic runabout balls had caught her attention. She remained perfectly still as the balls lightly bumped her feet and rolled off. The hamsters were exercising and getting quite a workout.

Sophie went down on her hands and knees for a better look. Dune leaned against the doorframe and watched her watch them. Her soft brow creased and her green eyes were narrowed. Her curiosity was piqued.

She gently put her hand on one ball, stopping its progress. “Why are there two hamsters inside?” she asked the vendor seated on a chair in the corner.

“Small females, six weeks old,” the man replied. “Each weighs less than an ounce. It takes both of them to move the ball.”

Dune knew what was coming; he could feel it in his bones. It would be great for Sophie to have a pet. Hamsters, however, didn’t live very long.

“Life span?” he asked the seller.

The man shrugged. “One to four years.”

Sophie pushed to her feet. She cradled the plastic ball with the two females to her chest. She carefully stepped around those still running a marathon. She came to him and gave him a small smile. “I’m collecting my bet.”

The vendor stood so fast his chair fell over. “Twenty dollars,” he told Dune. “Do you need a cage? Food? I’m full-service.”

The supplies were stored in a custodial closet. The man had a selection to pamper and spoil any hamster. Dune held the plastic ball, while Sophie chose her items. The Dwarfs were pocket pets. The tiny females huddled together, their noses twitching.

The vendor pulled a cage from the top shelf. “This is a nice starter home,” he told Sophie.

She shook her head. “Too small.”

She preferred the Habitat Plaza. The picture on the box showed a multi-level, high-rise manufactured with twisting tube tunnels, platforms, and two running wheels. Dune would help her put it together.

Further necessities included a water bottle, earthenware feeding dish, a chewing stick, and small bag of seeds and pellets. The vendor tossed in the clear plastic ball as a bonus item.

“Wow, Dwarfies,” Chuck said when he located them again. He tossed Dune his keys. “My teacher kept a gerbil and two white mice in class last year. We took turns taking them home on the weekends.”

“You can watch my girls if I ever go out of town,” Sophie told him.

Chuck puffed up, proud she trusted him. “Do you need help with the rest of this stuff?” he asked.

Dune handed Chuck the plastic ball. “Handle them with care,” he said.

“I’ll guard them with my life.”

Sophie smiled her approval.

Dune paid the vendor. The man nodded toward Sophie, who waited with Chuck by the door. “She’ll treat my hamsters like family.”

That she would. They were her kids now, Dune realized as he drove her home. She held the plastic ball on her lap with the protective fierceness of motherhood. She told him twice to slow down when going over speed bumps. He did his best not to laugh, but his smile soon broke out.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“You’re funny,” he said. “You’re such a mom.”

She frowned slightly. “That’s a bad thing?”

“It’s all good,” he assured her. He’d never discourage her from getting attached to her pets. Sophie was a natural nurturer. These were two very lucky hamsters.

They pulled into her driveway moments later. He helped her out of the Tahoe and into her house. She settled in the library and sat cross-legged on the floor. She watched the plastic ball circle the room while he unloaded the SUV.

He placed her purchases in the living room. Sophie had supported the community. She would gift wrap and hand out her presents. It would be Christmas in May for her friends.

He lugged the Habitat Plaza down the hall. “Where shall I set this up?” he asked her.

“In here.” She was quick to make up her mind. “This is my favorite room. I spend so much time here reading.”

She could read and watch the hamsters run. Sophie was a homebody. The Dwarfs would keep her company.

He hunkered down beside her and tore open the box. The pieces spilled out. The ventilated wire top was a bright yellow and the lower plastic levels were pink and orange. It was a simple task to put the parts together. He could’ve done it in five minutes flat. Instead, he took his time.

He liked being here with Sophie. She helped him fit the tube tunnels and attach the cylinders to the side panels. The running wheels came next, followed by the water bottle. She filled their food dish.

“Do you have an empty can? A toilet paper roll?” he asked her. “They need a place to sleep.”

Sophie was up and searching before he could finish his sentence. She returned with a Kalamata olive can and a roll of paper towels. She ripped off one sheet and shredded a narrow strip for their bedding. She then stuffed it inside the can.

She took a deep breath. “I’m ready to hold them now.”

Dune retrieved the ball from near his foot. The hamsters looked tired. They’d run several miles tonight. He twisted the top and reached inside. They were small and light as air. They sniffed his hand. The darker of the two nibbled on his finger. He gently scooped up the hungry one and set her on Sophie’s palm.

Dune got to know the lighter-colored hamster, while Sophie became acquainted with the darker one. His Dwarf was so small, it could get lost between his fingers. “Do you have names picked out?” he asked her.

“I will in a day or two,” she said. “I want to learn their personalities first.”

“Are you ready to introduce them to their home?”

She nodded and he unlatched the cage door. He lowered his hand and the hamster ran off his fingers and into the habitat. Sophie released her pet, too. Immediately curious, the hamsters explored.

“I want to put the cage on a card table next to the sofa,” she said. “My grandparents left one behind. It’s in the hall closet.”

Dune went for the table and the hamsters were soon set for the night. They’d disappeared into the olive can and never reappeared. He glanced down and found Sophie staring up at him.

“Thank you for my girls,” she said.

“You won our bet.”

“It must seem childish to get so excited, but I’ve never had a pet. Trace wanted a Golden Retriever when he was a boy. My parents felt a dog would be too much work and cause too much of a mess.”

“The hamsters will be easy to care for,” he said. “Enjoy them.”

“You don’t think I’m acting like a kid then?”

Sweet, sensitive Sophie needed his reassurance. He was honest with her. “I like the way you look at life, excited and expectant. It’s a great way to live.”

She nodded, smiled, pleased by his answer. “Mac’s never grown up,” she said. “Unless he’s got everyone fooled.”

“What you see is what you get with Mac,” Dune told her. “There’s no hidden agenda.”

“I’m easy to read, too,” she said. “I can’t hide my feelings. I frown when my heart hurts and smile when it warms.”

She smiled as often as she blushed. Dune was glad to be a part of her life. Their age difference no longer mattered. Sophie had him seeing life through fresh eyes. He hoped she’d never lose her exuberance.

It was easy to become disillusioned. Life had pushed him down at the height of his career. He’d become a bit of a cynic after falling and hurting his wrist at the South Beach Open. Somehow Sophie soothed him.

He glanced at his watch. Eleven-thirty. It was getting late, yet he wasn’t ready to leave. “Decaf by the pool?” he asked, hoping she’d let him stay a while longer.

She welcomed him, but on her terms. “Coffee at the kitchen table,” she countered.

“It’s time for you to get your feet wet.”

“You only mentioned my swimming lesson today,” she said. “I thought we were taking it slow.”

“Slow starts with a full moon and splashing your feet.”

“I’m afraid.”

“I’ll be with you all the way.”

He took her hand and felt her shiver. She
was
scared. He wouldn’t push her hard, only a nudge to get her out by the pool. They rose and he followed her down the hall to the kitchen. He dropped onto a chair while she made the coffee. The scent was dark, rich, and earthy.

“Marisole’s Rainforest,” she told him. “Our chef grinds an assortment of beans into a special blend. I add Italian sweet cream.”

She poured two cups and crossed to him. He nodded toward the sliding doors and she sighed heavily, knowing his intent. They proceeded poolside. The full moon turned the water silver. The deck was natural blue stone. The patio furniture was stacked against the house.

Dune kicked off his sandals and rolled his jeans to his knees. He settled on the side of the pool. He sipped his coffee and waited for Sophie to join him.

She was slow to cuff her pants and slower still to sit. She was anxious as she perched on the edge. She extended her legs, stiff and straight, long before lowering her feet into the pool. The water was warm and soothing. He watched her wiggle her toes.

“Not so bad?” Dune asked.

“Not so good.” She peered down on the water. “It looks deep.”

“Three, maybe four feet,” he said. “You could easily stand.”

She took a sip of her coffee. “I prefer to sit.”

They sat and talked. “What would you be doing if I wasn’t here?” He didn’t want to keep her from anything important.

“I often read until ten, then watch a movie,” she told him. “My life’s more boring than yours.”

“I’ve watched my fair share of movies,” he admitted. He often camped on the couch with Ghost, preferring a quiet night over the bar crowd. His dog didn’t expect small talk or run up a bar tab.

“A little movie trivia,” she challenged him. “ ‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.’ ”

He recognized the quote. “Bogart in
Casablanca
. Do you like the classics?”

“I have very eclectic tastes.” She surprised him with “ ‘Toga! Toga!’ ”

He grinned. “Bluto from
National Lampoon’s Animal House
.” He swirled his coffee in his cup and tried to stump her. “ ‘Cinderella story,’ ” he recited the dialogue. “ ‘A former greenkeeper, about to become the Master’s champion. It looks like a mirac . . . it’s in the hole! It’s in the hole! It’s in the hole!’ ”

She rolled her eyes. “Is that the best you’ve got?” she asked. “Bill Murray,
Caddyshack
.”

He came back with “ ‘Do, or do not. There is no try.’ ”

“Yoda,
The Empire Strikes Back
.”

“Your turn,” he said.

“ ‘No wire hangers, ever!’ ”

She stumped him. He didn’t have a clue. He shrugged. “Sounds like a slogan for a dry cleaning commercial.”

“It’s
Mommie Dearest
with Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford.”

“You’re good, Sophie.”

“Books and movies are my escape.” She snapped her fingers. “I have a quote you’ll know: ‘Where is it? Where’s the thump-thump?’ ”

“That’s Jack Sparrow,
Pirates of the Caribbean, Dead Man’s Chest
.”

She leaned into him. “Such a smart man.”

Her body fit against his side, soft, warm and distracting. He had one further piece of dialogue for her. “ ‘Y’know, this was supposed to be my weekend off. But nooo. You got me out here, draggin’ your heavy ass through the burnin’ desert with your dreadlocks sticking—’ ”