No Strings Attached (26 page)

Clutching them in the towel, Sophie took them to their cage. She filled their bowl so high, it would take a week for them to consume all the seeds and pellets.

The ordeal buckled Sophie’s knees. Her skin had air-dried, but her clothes still clung to her, wet and droopy. Apparently, she didn’t care. Dropping onto the sofa, she stared at the hamsters for a long, long time. So long, Dune joined her.

Forgetting about her soggy clothes and wet hair, he drew her across his lap. She was soft and shaking. He absorbed her sigh. Her breath warmed his neck. He felt the race of her heart against his chest. He gently rubbed her back, then massaged the nape of her neck.

“My mother didn’t completely close the sliding doors when she left,” Sophie softly surmised. “That’s how the girls escaped.”

“It was an accident,” Dune assured her. “They’re safe now.”

“I went after the hamsters and you came after me. You saved our lives.” Her appreciation came with a kiss. “Thank you.”

He held her close until all the tension had left her body. When she’d completely relaxed, she requested, “Teach me to swim?”

“We’ll begin tonight.” After her morning leap, he’d been about to suggest she drain her pool or buy a fiberglass cover until she learned to dog-paddle. Treading water didn’t count. Learning freestyle swimming and the breaststroke would benefit her greatly.

She glanced toward the wall clock designed as a medieval castle. “I’m going to be late for work.”

“I can give you a ride to the T-shirt shop.”

“Change of plans.” She grinned, her excitement evident. “I’m headed to the rickshaw hut. I start my pedicab tours after a two-hour training session.”

“Pedaling can be strenuous and hard work.” He didn’t want to burst her bubble, but fact was fact. Sophie was small and her passengers would outweigh her. She’d gotten sore from riding on the back of his motorcycle. Hauling tourists up and down the boardwalk for several hours at a stretch would leave her stiff and hurting.

He could always give her a massage. He liked touching her. Intimacy appealed to him. He was good with his hands.

She slipped off his lap and he followed her back to the kitchen. Their body heat had nearly dried their clothes. His shirt had stretched out and Sophie’s baggy shorts hung loose on her hips. She tightened the drawstring.

She moved to the stove and scrunched her nose. “So much for my scrambled eggs.”

Her eggs were charred and stuck to the skillet.

“Cereal makes for an easy breakfast,” he suggested.

“I’ll pick some up later today.”

“Buy Wheaties,” he advised on his way out. “The breakfast of champions.”

Two hours later, Dune stood on the boardwalk and took in the sights. There were a lot of people milling about for a Wednesday. Most of them carried purchases. Business was good.

He loved being home. Southwest Florida was paradise. He appreciated the clear skies and crystal blue water. A hint of a breeze broke the humidity. Seagulls screeched overhead and several pelicans toddled down the pier. The countless footprints in the sugar sand indicated the tourist trade here was alive and well.

Vacations were expensive for most folks, but the Cateses were personable and welcoming. Barefoot William came recommended as a destination of choice. No one could resist the gift shops and amusements. Children and adults alike got a thrill riding the roller coaster or carousel at midnight. A moonlit beach invited romance. Sleep came in second to the nightlife.

A tap of fingernails on his shoulder turned him to the left. A blonde in a skimpy black bikini stood beside him. The curve of her hip bumped his thigh. She smiled, he nodded, but he didn’t encourage conversation. He wasn’t interested in anyone but Sophie. The blonde eventually moved on.

No strings attached
had been his motto for many years, yet Sophie had gotten under his skin. He’d never met anyone so sweet and kind. She was overcoming her shyness and fears. Her blushes made her special. He wanted to protect her.

Their relationship had been born of a pro/am volleyball tournament. Strange, he often felt he’d known her longer than a year. Something about her took him back to his youth. He never could pinpoint the time or place. It remained a mystery to him.

Still, she brightened his days. They were friends and would soon be lovers. They’d already had a heated encounter the night she’d pushed him into her pool. His groin tightened at the memory. The feel of her skin against his had been slick and wet. Her body had responded to his touch. Tonight he’d bring condoms.

Dune subconsciously rubbed his wrist. He and Mac had scheduled volleyball practice for one o’clock that afternoon in the high school gym. The Huntington Beach Classic was ten days away. He hated it when his joints ached before his first serve. He’d play through the pain. He’d done it before and he would do so again.

He forced himself to stay positive. Shifting his stance, he transferred the take-out container he carried from one hand to the other. He’d stopped at Molly Malone’s for breakfast. Word had spread fast that Sophie was giving pedicab tours. Everyone would be on the lookout for her.

They’d cheer her on.

His aunt had put together a survival kit for Sophie packed with bottled water, an apple, a banana, and several nutrition bars, all designed to hydrate and energize her.

His relatives wanted her to be successful.

So did Dune, in whatever she chose to do.

He’d texted Shaye twice, asking if Sophie had left the rickshaw hut. He thought about being her first customer, but decided against it. He was a big man. He didn’t want her expending all her energy on him. He also couldn’t guarantee he could keep his hands off her. He didn’t want to prove a distraction. She had a long day ahead of her.

Shaye took her sweet time messaging him back. She indicated Sophie had pedaled off a half hour ago. Barring any problems, she should’ve reached Dune’s location by now.

He squinted down the boardwalk. There was no sign of her. Where the hell was she? The ticket booth for the pedicab tours stood beside Old Tyme Portraits. The drivers waited in the nearby parking lot for their fares. The entire excursion lasted thirty minutes, sometimes less.

He started to pace up and down. Maybe she had a flat tire. Maybe she’d worn herself out after the first block. Maybe she’d gotten an ornery tourist. Maybe—

“Are you waiting for Sophie?” Mayor James Cates asked as he approached Dune. His uncle gave him a knowing, amused look.

Dune nodded, not the least embarrassed. “She started a new venture today. I thought I’d look out for her.”

“She won’t be here for quite some time,” James said. “I saw her earlier when I stopped by the ticket booth to thank her for taking my son under her wing. Randy’s a new kid since she took an interest in him. He’s even helping out around the house.”

The mayor took a moment to greet several beachgoers. He promoted the town with a good word and strong handshake. “I hung around the parking lot for a while to see how Sophie handled the tour,” he went on to tell Dune. “She’d gathered quite a crowd before I left.”

“What happened?” Dune had to know.

The mayor unbuttoned his suit jacket and loosened his tie. He dabbed his handkerchief to his brow. “Once Sophie was assigned her first fare, she began her tour right there in the parking lot. She didn’t wait until she was halfway down the boardwalk, like so many of the drivers tend to do. She caught everyone’s attention right off the bat, relaying facts about the corner shop and how it was the original store built by William Cates.”

James looked at Dune. “Did you know it took three weeks to have the concrete and lumber shipped by boat from Tampa?” he asked. “The shop first opened as a fruit and vegetable stand. A few fishermen sold their catch in the back.”

This was all new information to Dune.

The mayor shielded his eyes, then pointed north. “Here comes Sophie now.”

Dune looked hard, but he couldn’t find her in the crowd. It took several seconds for him to locate her. She pedaled slowly but steadily in the middle of a throng. An elderly lady rode in her rickshaw, while the others walked alongside her. It was eerily quiet as people listened to her every word. Everyone within earshot was getting a detailed history lesson. Dune caught the next part of Sophie’s presentation as she drew nearer to where he waited for her.

“How would you like to live your life without shoes?” she asked those around her. The tourists nodded, smiled. A few raised their hands. “William Cates did just that. He was a farmer from Frostbite, Minnesota, who suffered the worst of winters. Just after the turn of the century, he sold his farm, then hand-cranked his Model T and traveled south until he reached this isolated stretch of beach. He removed his boots and walked knee-deep in the Gulf. Waves slapped his legs and the sun warmed him. He waded in the water until his face got sunburned. He immediately called Florida home. He swore never to wear shoes again.”

“Never?” The woman in the rickshaw sounded skeptical.

“Only on Sundays when he and his wife Lily Doreen went to church,” Sophie amended. “He noted in his journal that the moment he left God’s house he immediately shucked his shoes. The soles on those oxfords never wore out. He put them on once a week for sixty years.”

The tourists chuckled and Sophie smiled. The closer she got to Dune, the clearer her voice became. She was in her element and enjoying herself.

“William Cates had six children,” she continued. “His hound dog Buddy was his constant companion. William went out on his fishing boat in the morning and governed the city from the one-room courthouse in the afternoon. He was the first elected mayor.” She paused for effect, then said, “Twelve votes were cast. It was unanimous.”

Dune took it all in. He knew so little about his ancestors. Sophie was a human history lesson.

“William was prone to late afternoon naps,” she went on to say. “No one disturbed him. He rested in a hammock strung between two palms in his backyard. His wife woke him for dinner. His favorite meal was stone crab claws.”

She was ten feet from Dune now. She gave him a small wave as she slowed down beside him. He noticed she wasn’t huffing and puffing. She could handle the pedaling.

She didn’t wear the usual driver’s uniform consisting of a tan polo shirt and khaki shorts. Instead, she’d covered up with a floppy white hat, long-sleeve blouse, slacks, and tennis shoes. Sunblock whitened her nose.

“Meet Dune Cates, everyone,” she said by way of an introduction to all those gathered around her. “He’s a fifth generation Cates. Dune’s a professional beach volleyball player, for anyone who doesn’t recognize him. He’s the number one seed on the circuit.”

Excited murmurs flew around him as tourists took his picture. Dune smiled, then signed autographs on the back of the city tour pamphlets.

“Standing beside Dune is Mayor James Cates,” she said. More cameras flashed. “In spite of tough economic times, our illustrious mayor has managed to control the town’s growth and uphold William’s vision.”

“She’s good,” the mayor said to Dune, praising Sophie after she’d pedaled on.

Dune was too stunned to speak. Shy, sweet Sophie had hit her stride. She wasn’t afraid of public speaking. Not by a long shot. She was a natural born tour guide.

“She’s found her niche.” Dune had no doubt what he said was true.

“I hope you’re right,” his uncle said. “I want to run something by you, Dune, if you have a few minutes.”

Dune took the time. He leaned back against the blue pipe railing and listened. He was interested in what the mayor had to say.

“Dog-eared Pages, the used book store around the corner from Molly’s diner, is going out of business,” James began. “Clinton Cates wants to retire. I’d prefer the shop didn’t stand empty long. I want to try something new. Barefoot William deserves its own museum. I’d like to offer Sophie the position of curator. She knows more about us than we know about ourselves. She’d be perfect for the job.”

The idea appealed to Dune, yet there was a catch. “She’s a Saunders.”

“Not a problem for me or anyone else,” his uncle assured him. “Everyone on the boardwalk likes her. Your sister married Sophie’s brother Trace. In a roundabout way, that makes her family.”

Dune nodded. This could be her dream job. He felt a surge of excitement for her.

The mayor glanced at his watch. “I need to get back to the office,” he said, straightening his tie. “Run the idea by Sophie and see if she’s interested. If so, have her stop by my office and we’ll talk further.”

His uncle departed and Dune went after Sophie. He planned to save his conversation about the mayor’s proposal for later that evening. It was more important that he deliver her survival kit.

Her forty-minute tour had stretched to ninety minutes. He located her near the pier. The crowd swelled despite the heat. Sophie suffocated at its center.

Dune made his way over to her. People frowned, but let him pass. They didn’t want to lose their places. Sophie wasn’t nearly as wilted as he’d expected. Her blouse was slightly wrinkled and her face was flushed. She fanned herself with the floppy brim of her hat.

He opened the take-out container and passed her a bottle of water. She was grateful. He then slipped the kit under her seat.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

She took a long sip of water before answering him. “I’m ready to head back to the rickshaw hut,” she said. “I hope Shaye won’t be angry.” Her concern for her job was evident on her face. “I got carried away and went over the allotted time.”

Dune glanced around. No one had moved. All eyes were on Sophie. “You have an appreciative audience.”

She smiled. “I’m having fun.”

“Are you sore?”

She rubbed her thigh. “A little.” She didn’t complain further. She poured a few drops of water onto her palm and blotted her face. The droplets immediately dried. “I’d better go,” she told him.

She cut the front wheel sharply and made a U-turn. Fortunately, she didn’t run over anyone. Dune fell in with the crowd, keeping to the rear. He wanted to hear what Sophie had to say as much as anyone.