No Strings Attached (24 page)

Funny, sarcastic Jenna appeared both serious and sad, which made Sophie feel bad, too. She didn’t know how to fix what Mac had broken. Jen went into hiding. She spent most of her time in the storeroom. She let Sophie handle the customers.

Business was good. She rang up sales for six shirts to a biologist in town for a symposium on beach erosion. Young Randy proved an asset. The older man had three sons and Randy helped him select the perfect souvenir tees. Randy then persuaded him to take a sand globe home to his wife and a Frisbee for the family dog. The boy had retail in his blood.

Randy crossed to Sophie during a break in customers. His arms were filled with rolled posters. “Tomorrow’s payday,” he reminded her.

She smiled at him. “You’ll be paid, maybe even get a bonus.”

“A bonus big enough to buy my sister a T-shirt?”

“I’m sure it will cover the cost.”

He pumped his arm. “Glad it’s you and not Dune who’s paying me,” he said. “The big guy hasn’t been around. I’d hate to get stiffed.”

“No worry, the sunglasses will be yours,” she assured him. “However, my time at Three Shirts ends today. I’m off to my next adventure. That will leave Jenna short-handed. Care to stick around and help out?”

He shrugged. “Do I get a raise?”

“That can be negotiated with Jen.”

“I’ve grown on her.”

“You’ll stay in her good graces as long as you don’t steal.”

“My days of crime are over.” He sounded older than twelve. He set the posters on the front counter, then asked, “Help me set up a display?”

She nodded. She needed to concentrate on the shop and not on Dune. Yet each time the door opened, she looked up, hoping to see him. He never showed.

Maybe she’d read more into their evening together than was actually there. He’d kissed and touched her everywhere; made her palms sweat and her heart race. She’d climaxed and he’d lain facedown in her pool. Not an equal exchange of sexual favors.

He’d been her hero for so many years. Then she’d gone and fallen in love with him. That scared her more than all her fears combined. Her insecurities surfaced.

What if he never loved her back?

What if he broke her heart?

What if—?

Randy nudged her elbow to get her attention. “You’re daydreaming, Sophie.”

He then passed her a poster, which she slowly unrolled. The matted photo was awesome, she thought. Six boardwalk shops were depicted in black-and-white; only Three Shirts was in color. The burnished orange storefront and tangerine door contrasted sharply with the muted shades of gray. The poster would sell like hot cakes.

“What are your future plans?” Randy asked as he carefully tacked a poster to the wall.

She grew thoughtful as she cleared a shelf for the remaining matted photos. Dune wasn’t around to discourage her from jumping on a pogo stick, so that was an option. As was walking on stilts. She could start low and go high. However, a part of her was leaning toward the pedicab tours. She could handle a three-wheeled rickshaw.

Carting tourists from one end of the boardwalk to the other appealed to her. She wouldn’t have to wear a helmet or body padding like she would on stilts or a pogo stick. Plus, there was no chance of falling. No bruising. No broken bones.

She knew the town’s history like the back of her hand.

Giving pedicab tours would be great exercise. She needed to firm up. Dune was solid as a wall.

“The pedicabs,” she decided on the spot.

“Good choice and good luck.”

She’d send her sister-in-law Shaye a text. Shaye would schedule her training. There was a historical pamphlet to memorize. Sophie planned to ad-lib a little, too.

The remainder of the morning crawled by. She dusted, swept, and cleaned the mirrors until the lunch hour rolled around. She wasn’t hungry, so she decided to take a walk. The sun was not her friend. She borrowed a nylon Windbreaker and floppy hat from Jen.

She stepped onto the boardwalk and immediately bumped into Mac James. “Sweet Sophie,” he greeted, giving her a hug. “Good to see you.”

“I’ve been watching you all morning.”

“I’ve been running errands.”

“You’ve done nothing but eat.”

“So you say.”

“So I know.” She brushed powdered sugar from his cheek.

“Doughnuts,” he said, before asking her what was really on his mind. “Anyone else see me?”

“Like who? Randy?”

He blew out a breath. “Don’t make me beg, Soph.”

She took pity on him. “Jenna’s been working in the storeroom.”

His face fell. “Shit, I’ve walked my ass off for nothing.”

“You could’ve come inside.”

“She would’ve swept me out with a broom.”

“A distinct possibility.” Or maybe not. Sophie glanced at the front window of the shop and saw Jen peering out. Fearing she’d been caught, she pulled back before Mac could see her.

He ran his hand through his hair, spiked one side. “Dune called a few minutes ago,” he told her. “There are a couple of glitches at camp. He won’t get back until tomorrow.”

Good to know. She slowly exhaled the breath it felt like she’d been holding the entire time he’d been gone.

“He asked me to keep you company,” Mac informed her. “So, what’s up?”

“I’m going for a walk.”

“I have a few more steps in me.”

“Good. Let’s head to the pier.”

“I thought you were afraid of the Gulf.”

“I like looking at the water,” she confessed. “I’m just not ready to get my feet wet.”

She’d gotten plenty wet the night she’d jumped in her pool to save Dune. Yet the ocean was another matter entirely. It didn’t have cement sides or a handrail.

They took off down the boardwalk. Several female sunbathers stopped Mac for his autograph. He charmed each one, but he didn’t plan to hook up. That spoke volumes to Sophie. Whether he’d admit it or not, he was into Jen.

Dodging fishermen and tourists, they soon reached the pier. Sophie relaxed and enjoyed the sights. The merry-go-round circled to a lively Hop-Scotch Polka. Those on the roller coaster raised their arms high on the downward slant of the track. The bumper cars beeped with each knock. The arcade amusements drew kids of all ages. Scents of cotton candy, candied apples, and fried Oreos sweetened the air.

Mac slowed beside a metal cart selling hot dogs. “Weenie?” he asked her.

Sophie laughed. She couldn’t help herself.

He grinned. “Your mind’s in the gutter.”

“My thoughts are pure.”

“Hang around me,” he warned, “and you’ll step off the curb.” He then ordered three hot dogs. “Dune Cates’s account,” he told the vendor.

They moved beyond the line of hungry customers. He broke off a piece of hot dog and fed her a bite. She wasn’t hungry, but he insisted that she eat something. The bun was steamed and the hot dog juicy.

Food drew her thoughts to Marisole, her family’s gourmet chef. Mari was amazing in the kitchen, but it was time Sophie tried her own hand at cooking. “I’m going to make dinner tonight,” she said, more to herself than to Mac.

“I can cook,” Mac surprised her by saying.

“You mean cook beyond opening a can of soup and heating it?”

He put his hand over his heart. “You wound me, babe. No one makes meat loaf better than I do. And I memorized my grandma’s peanut butter cookie recipe when I was ten.”

“I can’t picture you puttering around the kitchen.”

“I can putter with the best of them.” He looked down at her. “Invite me to dinner.”

“You’re invited.” She paused. “What can I make?”

“Mashed potatoes are easy.”

Sophie nodded. She’d do her best. She glanced around and noticed they’d reached the end of the pier. She crossed to the railing and looked out over the Gulf. The waves were high. Small fishing boats bobbed in the distance. Local surfers claimed the shoreline. The sky had darkened, and only a smattering of sunbathers remained. It would soon rain.

“Shall we head back?” Mac asked once he’d finished the last bite of his bun.

She peeked at her watch. “I took over an hour for lunch.”

“Get a move on.” He hustled her long. “You could get fired.”

“I’m volunteering, silly man.”

They parted ways at Crabby Abby’s General Store. “See you at five,” he called after her.

The man apparently liked to eat early.

The atmosphere in Three Shirts had turned quiet on Sophie’s return. She hung up her windbreaker and floppy hat, then looked in the mirror above the storeroom sink. She’d forgotten to apply sunscreen. Her nose was red.

A new shipment had arrived while she was out. Jenna unpacked, while Sophie stacked the shirts. Randy broke down the corrugated boxes, then tossed them in the Dumpster.

“How was your walk?” Jen asked, finally breaking the silence.

“I had company.”

“So I noticed.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. So she was right. Jen had seen Mac through the window. “We walked the length of the pier.”

“Lucky for you it was overcast and not too hot.”

Clearing her throat, Sophie said, “Dune’s out of town. He asked Mac to keep me company. We’re cooking dinner together.”

“Mac cooks?” Jen was doubtful. “He looks more like a take-out or deli man to me.”

“His specialty is meat loaf.”

“Hamburger in Corning Ware is easy enough.”

“Want to make it a dinner party?” Sophie offered, hoping Jen would join them.

Jenna gave it some thought. “Thanks for the invite, but I’m quitting Mac. He makes me crazy.”

“He’s definitely an acquired taste.”

“Bittersweet,” Jen said beneath her breath.

Sophie heard her nonetheless. She wished for a way to bring Mac and Jenna together. There was something between them. They only needed to talk it out.

By four o’clock, it had rained and the skies cleared. Steam rose off the boardwalk. All browsers left the shop. “Go home, Sophie,” Jen encouraged. “Get ready for your evening with Mac.”

“It’s not a date,” she stressed.

“It’s meat loaf.” A sigh escaped from Jen. “I’d eat dirt with the right man.”

Sophie’s limo driver picked her up at the corner of Center Street and Blue Crab Way. He respectfully opened her door and made certain she was comfortably seated. In that moment, she wished she was riding home on the back of Dune’s Harley.

On her arrival, she found Mac camped by her front door. He’d dressed simply. White T-shirt and jeans. A rusty pickup truck was parked near the flower beds. She was surprised the guard at the gate had let him pass through, although Mac was the type to charge a barricade.

“I stopped for groceries.” He collected all three bags. “Hope you like wine. I bought a bottle of Naked Grape.”

She’d learned about wine from her parents, but she seldom swirled and sipped. She preferred iced tea or club soda with lime. She was naturally clumsy and didn’t need wine to make her tipsy.

“Cool house,” Mac said when he entered. He took in her medieval weaponry. “Highland Games are calling my name.”

She left him wielding a samurai sword and went straight to the library to check on her Dwarf hamsters. Mac showed up moments later. He peered into their cage. “Tiny little shits,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Not shits, but girls.” She unlatched their cage. “It’s exercise time.” She placed them both inside the clear plastic sphere.

“They have fast feet,” Mac said, sidestepping the ball. He whistled and patted his thigh, expecting them to follow him like a dog down the hall. Surprisingly, they did.

Sophie brought up the rear. “They need names,” she said.

“Itsy and Bitsy,” he suggested.

“I don’t want to minimize their size.”

He set the grocery bags on the gray slate granite counter. “How about Dumbo and Jumbo?”

“They’re not elephants.”

“You’re a hard sell, babe.”

“You’re not really helping me.”

He unpacked the sacks. The ingredients soon stretched from one end of the counter to the other. Mac liked to spread out, Sophie noted. She bet he’d use every pan in her kitchen before the meal was served.

“You’ve got
Dwarf
hamsters,” he emphasized. “Why not go with Dopey and Doc from
Snow White
?”

“Those are boy names.”

“Like they’re going to know.”

“
I’d
know, Mac.”

He narrowed his gaze on the hamsters. “Happy and Crappy?”

“Crappy?”
She was offended.

“One of them had an accident.”

She did a quick cleanup, then washed her hands. She crossed to his side. “How can I help?”

“Can you follow a recipe?”

How hard could it be? “Sure.”

He slipped a piece of paper from his jeans pocket. “I jotted down my grandma’s cookie recipe. Keep it secret.”

She had no one to tell.

“I’ll fix the meat loaf while the cookies bake,” he said. “You can make the mashers and a salad.”

He’d given her a lot to do. She located an apron along with the necessary mixing bowl, measuring cups, and spoons. Next, she selected the ingredients from the array on the counter. Her hands shook as she cracked eggs into the bowl, specks of shell included. She sloshed milk. Spilled the sugar. Whitened her hands with flour. She incorrectly measured the peanut butter.

Mac glanced her way and noted, “The batter is really thick.”

She hoped the cookies would thin out when they baked.

“Don’t forget to grease the cookie sheet.” He’d caught her just in time. “I’ll preheat the oven.”

She breathed a sigh of relief once the batter was evenly divided onto the cookie sheet. She baked the cookies for twelve minutes. She noticed they hadn’t flattened when she removed them from the oven. They remained doughy peanut butter balls.

Mac frowned. “Not quite like grandma used to make.” He popped one in his mouth. “Chewy.” He ate two more.

She managed to make a salad, which consisted of chopped lettuce and diced carrots. Her mashed potatoes were undercooked and had lumps. She set the table while the meat loaf cooked. She laid out linen and crystal. She lighted a single candle, then dimmed the lights.

Mac glanced her way. “Planning to make a move on me?”

She stood with her hands on her hips. “What do you think?”