No Strings Attached (42 page)

He was ready to take to the beach when he saw her. His heart stopped. She stood in profile, knee-deep in the Gulf with sunlight glistening all around her. Her focus was on a young girl taking a paddleboard lesson. He grinned. This was the same girl who’d entered the stand-up paddleboard races several weeks ago.

Dune saw the girl wave at Sophie, and caught Sophie waving back. She watched the girl’s lesson with avid interest, clapping her hands and giving her encouragement. It appeared they’d met and become friends. He decided not to interrupt their moment.

Twenty minutes passed, and the lesson ended. The girl grabbed her board and approached Sophie. Together, they walked across the sand toward the Popsicle Shack. Sophie reached into the pocket of her shorts and paid for two icy treats.

Dune continued to watch as the two of them talked. Sophie was such a kind person, always thinking about others. How come it took him so damn long to make up his mind? He knew the answer. His career was on the line, too.

Once they finished with their popsicles, the girl took off. Sophie waved good-bye to her, then scuffed through the sand, coming toward the wooden ramp that led to the boardwalk.

Where was his desert nomad? Dune wondered, thinking back on when he first arrived in town. Gone were her bucket hat, rain poncho, and waterproof pants tucked into her rubber boots. There’d been a time she’d tripped over her own feet and nearly taken a nosedive.

Not so today. A very sexy woman replaced his nomad. Sophie looked hot. She’d pulled her brown hair into a high ponytail. Red sunglasses shaded her eyes. The sun had lightly kissed her exposed skin. She glowed.

He’d never seen Sophie in a tank top, yet she wore one today. It was royal blue. Her navy walking shorts fit loosely. He liked her barefoot. One of the lifeguards called out to her, and Sophie smiled back. Dune swore the guy was flirting with her, but the guard’s words didn’t distract her. She didn’t stumble or blush.

The closer she came, the harder it was for Dune to breathe. Simply put, she was a stunner. Men stared and admired her. Dune hoped he hadn’t screwed up and she’d moved on. The thought kicked him in the gut.

She was nearly to the steps now. The breeze blew in his direction, picking up her soft, powdery, vanilla scent.

Anticipation squeezed his chest.

Attraction tightened his groin.

Sophie’s hand was on the weathered, wooden railing when she looked up and noticed him. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t run up the stairs and hug him. Instead she slowly removed her sunglasses and stared at him. There was apprehension in her gaze and banked sadness. She tilted her head, waiting quietly for him to speak first.

“You have yellow lips,” were the first words out of his mouth.

Her smile was small. “I love banana popsicles.”

“I like grape.”

“So does Melissa, the girl on the paddleboard.”

“I see you’ve met her.”

“I’ve caught a few of her lessons,” Sophie said, her voice as soft and faint as the breeze. “She introduced herself. Apparently the lifeguard let it slip that I’d given her the gift certificate.”

Dune hoped she’d join him on the boardwalk, yet she remained at the bottom of the ramp. He curved his hands over the pipe railing. He squeezed so hard his knuckles whitened. Both wrists felt strong. He’d healed well. He had so much to share with Sophie, yet words failed him at that moment.

A first for him.

A seagull flew between them, squawking and mocking their silence. Smartass bird.

He noticed an empty cement bench a few feet away, one situated between the Denim Dolphin and Goody Gumdrops. Two large potted plants stood as sentries, giving the spot privacy. A store awning provided the shade. “Come sit with me,” he requested.

“Dune, I—” she began, hesitating.

“Please, Sophie?”

She nodded, then came up the ramp slowly. Once on the boardwalk, she didn’t take his hand as she was apt to do. Instead, she clasped her hands behind her back.

He sensed her vulnerability. Her uncertainty.

She doubted his sincerity.

Her hesitation scared the hell out of him.

He motioned for her to take a seat. They settled beneath the awning. A foot of empty space separated them. Late afternoon shadows played across their knees and ankles. He couldn’t stop looking at her. She was sun-warmed with flecks of sugar sand on her feet. Her toenails were painted a dark blue.

“The museum looks great,” he started out by saying, hoping he’d chosen a safe topic.

“I can’t take all the credit,” she said. “It’s been a group effort. The Cateses have been very supportive of my plans.”

“My grandfather is quite taken with you.”

“I like him, too.”

Sunbathers soon came off the beach in a continuous stream, chatting about their day. Dune turned his back on them. His focus was on Sophie.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

She gave him no more than a nod.

Her apathy nearly killed him. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come home, Sophie.”

“You’re here now,” she said, looking at him. Her eyes were filled with hurt. “Your family will be glad to see you.”

“What about you?” he asked. “Are you happy I’m home?”

She wasn’t ready to answer him. Reaching for his hand, she gently stroked his wrist. Her touch warmed him. “I watched your match on TV. You played like a true champion, Dune. You have options and can continue on the tour if you choose.”

“I don’t choose,” he told her.

That startled her. “What changed your mind?”

“You did, Sophie.” He held her hand and she didn’t resist. He took that as a good sign. “I was on a high after Huntington,” he admitted. “My wrist felt good and Mac and I played hard. Winning solidified our top seed.”

“I was excited you’d won,” she said, then lowered her head. “So were a lot of other women.”

So that was it. The women bothered her. He could fix that. “Fans and groupies stroke a man’s ego,” he said honestly. “Their attention is fleeting and superficial. They want to share our spotlight. Trust me, had the Taylors won, the attention would’ve been on them and not us.”

He eased Sophie closer to him. They now bumped hips and thighs. ”I taped an interview with Ty Kemp that will air before the Hermosa Beach Open, announcing my retirement, but I wanted you to be the first to know my decision.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He looked her in the eyes. “Yes. The time is right. I can retire on my own terms and not be forced out of the game.”

She understood. “It was a decision only you could make.”

He took a chance and curved his arm about her shoulders. She rested her cheek against his chest. He kissed her forehead. Her skin was incredibly soft. “I’m sorry that I didn’t call or text you as often as I should have, but you were always on my mind. I had to work through my own personal issues. There were many. Retiring from a sport I lived and breathed since I was twelve years old weighed heavily on my mind.

“Mac took up a lot of my time, too,” he continued. “He’s not a good patient. I had to mash his pain medication in chocolate pudding to get him to rest.”

Her smile tipped. “Mac would be a handful.”

“You said it. He refused to use his crutches, preferring to shuffle. I stuck around while he located a Realtor and listed his condo. I cut out when he started selling his furniture.”

Her green eyes went wide. “What are his plans?” she asked, curious.

“Let’s just say you won our final bet,” he said, the look on his face pained. “Mac beat me back to town by two hours. He’s about to ask Jenna to marry him.”

She sat up straight, her excitement evident. “I won!”

“Choose anything you want.”

“Anything?” she asked. “Does that include you?”

“It could,” he said slowly, liking that idea. “My condo’s up for sale and my volleyball camps are up and running. I’m home, sweetheart.”

“Home . . .” She went so still, he thought she’d stopped breathing. A tear escaped and her face softened. She managed a smile. “I’ll like having you around.”

He kissed the tear off her cheek, then whispered against her ear. “I want to be here for you.” He could think of no where else he’d rather be. “I love you, Sophie.” The words felt right. “I’ll teach you how to drive, to paddleboard, to walk on stilts, whatever adventure you want to try.”

“I’ll learn how to cook,” she promised. She licked her lips, then asked him, “Can I interest you in dinner? I’m baking one-step lasagna for the third night in a row. The noodles have been chewy.”

“I can live with chewy.”

“Could you live with me forever?”

“Marriage is forever, Sophie.”

“Then I choose you,” she said with finality. “I like winning our bets.”

His chest swelled, and his smile broke. “You’ve won my heart, Sophie Saunders. You helped settle the feud. Frank already thinks of you as family, but let’s make it official, the sooner the better.”

“How soon is soon?” she asked.

“You tell me,” he said.

“It will depend on the size of our wedding.”

“I’ll leave that up to you.”

“Your family is enormous,” she said, counting on her fingers.

“They’ll all want to attend.”

“I’d like to involve my mother in the wedding,” she told him. “Our relationship is tenuous at best, but we’ve gotten a bit closer. I made French toast for her the other day. It took a lot of maple syrup, but she ate every bite.”

“That’s great news,” Dune said.

“She also made a sizeable donation to the museum,” she added.

“That was generous on her part.”

She sighed. “We will never have a normal mother-daughter relationship, but she’s trying and I’m trying. That’s all I can ask for.”

Dune squeezed her shoulder, then gently rubbed her back. “You’ll have a better bond with your own daughter,” he assured her.

“Babies.” Her cheeks pinkened.

“I want a big family, Sophie.”

“I do, too.” She smiled at him. “I want tall boys who ride motorcycles and play volleyball.”

“And girls who love books and Dwarf hamsters,” he added. “I see a lot of sex in our future. Sex with cream cheese icing and”—he pressed a kiss to her lips—“popsicles.”

Sophie shivered in anticipation. Then melted against Dune.

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Copyright © 2013 Kate Angell

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