No Strings Attached (6 page)

Mac stood up, stretched, rubbed his stomach, then dropped back on his stool. He went with Key Lime pie.

“One slice or two?” Vi knew him well.

“I’ll start with one.”

Dune and Sophie passed on dessert. They were both full. Sophie didn’t want to weigh herself down. She was about to unicycle.

“You’ll sink like an anchor if you swim this afternoon,” she warned Mac.

“There’ll be all kinds of floaties in the pool,” he assured her.

She understood. Mac would never drown. The buoy-breasted women from Crabby Abby’s would keep him afloat.

Mac finished his pie and the busboy removed his empty plate. The boy was young and in a hurry. He backed into Violet just as she set down a large glass of tomato juice before the customer seated on Dune’s left. Vi jerked and the glass tipped. Tomato juice spilled on the counter.

Dune was quick. He leaned back, avoiding the spill. He made a grab for Sophie’s arm, but he was a second too late.

She, unfortunately, bore the stain. Her forearms rested on the Formica and one sleeve of her silk blouse absorbed every last bit of the tomato juice.

“Ah, crap.” The boy looked horrified.

Violet peeled off a handful of napkins from the holder, then went to the soda fountain and pressed club soda. Dampening the napkins, she dabbed the seltzer on Sophie’s sleeve. The stain began to fade.

“We’ll pay for the cleaning bill,” Vi was quick to say. “Chuck is my older sister’s son. Lisa is a single mom. I’m watching him while Lisa looks for work. Molly agreed to let him help out today. He’s twelve, always in a rush, and needs to slow down.”

Violet glanced toward the kitchen, kept her voice low. “Chuck started out in the back this morning, washing dishes. He broke so many plates that Molly was forced to order a new case. He got moved to the fryers and burned batches of french fries. Now in the dining room, he bumps into me and a glass of tomato juice spills, soaking your sleeve. He figures the faster he works, the quicker the day will pass. He plays Sandlot Softball and has a big tournament this weekend. He plays shortstop and is coordinated on the diamond, but in the diner, not so much.”

“I’m clumsy, too,” Sophie said softly. She shook her sleeve. The material was damp, but no real damage was done. Accidents happened. She’d had more than her fair share.

Chuck’s shoulders slumped. “Here comes Molly,” he said as the owner of the diner pushed through the kitchen door.

“Dune, Sophie, Mac,” Molly greeted them warmly. “I heard you were here.” Her short hair was frizzy and her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the stove. She was plump; a true testament to her home cooking and generous portions.

Molly glanced from the red-streaked counter to the pile of soggy napkins, then to Sophie’s wet sleeve. “Do I dare ask?” she groaned.

Chuck shifted behind the counter, uneasy and expecting to be fired. Sophie couldn’t allow that to happen. She felt bad for the boy. “I distracted Chuck,” she said.

Dune eyed her with as much surprise as now showed on Violet’s face. Mac’s lips twitched. He was amused.

Molly looked skeptical. “How’d you distract him?” she asked.

“She was flirting with the boy,” said Mac.

Sophie elbowed him in the side. “He’s twelve.”

“Sophie mentioned a job,” Dune said casually.

“A job away from the diner?” Molly looked hopeful.

Sophie touched Dune lightly on his arm, appreciative of his thought. She ran with his idea. “My gardener could use an assistant for a week or two. Lawn maintenance is hard work. It’s hot outside and I’d pay Chuck well.”

“Pay me?” The boy’s jaw dropped. “How much?”

She had no knowledge of pay scales. She took a guess. “Twenty dollars an hour.”

Conversations stilled around them. Customers looked her way. She blushed. “Too low?” she asked, afraid she’d insulted Chuck.

“Too high by at least ten dollars,” said Dune.

“When can I start?” Chuck sounded excited.

Sophie would discuss the boy with her gardener later in the day. “Tomorrow,” she said, “nine to two.”

“Do I get weekends off?” Chuck hesitantly asked.

“I wouldn’t want you to miss your tournament,” she said.

“I’ll buy you a bag of popcorn anytime you attend a game,” the boy told her.

Sophie liked popcorn. “We’ve got a deal then.”

“Why don’t you take the remainder of the day off,” Molly suggested, “and rest up for work tomorrow?”

Violet glanced at her watch. “Your mom should be home in an hour. Clear the remainder of the tables; then you can cut out.” She reached in her apron pocket, slipped him three dollars. “Stop for ice cream, two scoops max.”

The boy turned to Molly. “Can I use you for a job reference?” he boldly asked.

“You’ve only been here five hours.”

Chuck shrugged, then took off to bus the dirty tables.

“Thank you, Sophie.” Molly patted her on the shoulder. “I owe you a free piece of pie.”

“Way to go,” Dune said to her when the counter area cleared. “You made both Chuck and Molly very happy.”

She warmed to his compliment.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

She was ready for her unicycle lesson.

Dune paid the bill and left a sizeable tip. Violet walked them to the door. She went on tiptoe and kissed Dune on the cheek, then pushed Mac out the door. “I appreciate what you’re doing for Chuck,” she whispered to Sophie. “See you at volleyball practice.”

Back on the boardwalk, Mac was quick to part ways. “I’m off.” He dropped a kiss on Sophie’s forehead. “I’ll be at the Blue Coconut later tonight if you want to catch up,” he told Dune. He left for the T-shirt shop; a change of clothes was his top priority.

Sophie wondered if Dune would show, and if so, who he would take home. With his looks and popularity, he would draw a lot of attention from the women. The thought depressed her just enough for him to notice.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’m gathering my courage to meet with the shop owners,” she said. Rick didn’t own a store. He was considered boardwalk entertainment.

“You’ll do fine,” he encouraged her. “Don’t be shy. Speak up for what you want.”

She’d like Dune in her life. Even for a little while. She wanted to get to know him personally, not learn about him through his sister Shaye. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him so. Maybe someday.

“Take care, Sophie,” he said.

She waited for him to ruffle her hair, but he didn’t this time. Instead he gave her a friendly pat on the back and sent her on her way. She’d taken six steps before she turned slightly, in hopes of catching him walk away. She wanted to check out his backside. She squinted against the sun.

To her surprise she found him leaning against the bright blue pipe railing, his gaze on her. There was an intensity and thoroughness to his stare. Unnerved, she tripped and stumbled into the cinnamon churro cart. She’d never felt more awkward.

Collecting herself, she apologized for the mishap, then bought a bag of churros from the cart owner. She had no intention of eating the sugary fried dough sticks. She was full from lunch. Instead she’d give them to Rick. He was a teenager who burned a lot of calories.

She was afraid to look back a second time, so she took off for the employee parking lot. The boardwalk was long and crowded. She didn’t do well around a lot of people. Crowds made her nervous. She stuck close to the multicolored storefronts. Her heart was pounding by the time she reached Rick.

She found him lounging on a beach chair at the base of a queen palm. A unicycle lay on the grass beside him. The lot was shaded and almost empty. She planned to avoid the three vehicles and the vintage Harley.

Rick rose and greeted her with a high five. He accepted the churros with a smile. He was younger than Sophie, but with the start of his beard, he looked her age easily. He wore a Tampa Bay Rays baseball cap, white T-shirt, sweatpants, and high-top sneakers. “You showed,” he said.

“Did you doubt me?”

He shook his head. “You look delicate, but determined.”

“I plan to go the distance.”

“Let’s do it,” Rick said. He pulled a black nylon athletic bag from behind his chair and unzipped it. He shoved the churros in a side pocket, then passed Sophie the protective gear she’d purchased several days ago and left with him.

She dropped her purse by his athletic bag and he assisted her with her wrist and shin guards, then her knee and elbow pads. A pair of short leather gloves, too. Rick placed a small helmet on her head, then hefted the unicycle off the ground.

“This isn’t hard,” Rick assured her. “Don’t be nervous and tense up on me. Exhale, Sophie.”

She could barely breathe.

He started her lesson. Riding a unicycle was more complicated than she’d imagined. Once he finished his instructions, he held the cycle upright. She stood on tiptoe, gave a little hop, and scooted onto the seat. Only to slide right off.

The mounting took a good twenty minutes. Balance was not her friend. Her feet slipped on and off the platform pedals. She fell twice. The cement had no bounce. She’d be bruised tomorrow.

She finally settled on the very narrow, very uncomfortable seat and Rick moved to stand before her. He straddled the tire and she gripped his shoulders. Her fingers curled into his T-shirt in a death grip.

“A little hip action,” he encouraged her. “Slowly rock back and forth. Think sex, Sophie. Feel the motion.”

Sex was not a good reference for her. Her hips felt stiff and rusty. Like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz.

Rick gave her plenty of time. “Looking good, girl,” he praised her. “You can let go of my shirt now.”

She shook her head. She wasn’t ready to release him.

He made the decision for her by rolling his shoulders. “Extend your arms to the side,” he instructed.

Her arms went straight as airplane wings, while her knees knocked against the frame. Her body was shaking from the inside out.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Remember what I’ve taught you. Lean your upper body toward me and pedal.”

She bit down on her bottom lip as Rick eased back a step, just beyond her reach. “I can’t do this.” Her voice sounded shrill, even to her own ears.

“Yes, you can,” Rick said. “Breathe, Sophie.”

She inhaled so sharply that the sudden rise of her chest threw her shoulders back. The unicycle began to roll—

Backward
.

“Whoa, wrong direction, babe,” he called after her.

Panic seized her. She was pedaling away from him and she couldn’t stop herself. Her legs were on automatic pilot. She was picking up speed, wobbly and swerving. Her reading glasses slipped down her nose.

“Hit the brakes,” shouted Rick as he jogged after her.

She was afraid to stop pedaling. A sudden stop and she’d wipe out. Falling was not to her liking. She had no idea what was behind her. Or what she was about to hit.

“What the hell?”
Dune’s deep angry voice rose from the sidewalk.

Sophie caught both the man and the motorcycle from the corner of her eye. She was circling toward them. The look on Dune’s face could’ve flattened the tire on her unicycle. He was that mad.

Dune dropped the bag he was carrying and sprinted toward her. His long legs ate up the distance. He had almost reached her when Sophie tipped left. The pavement rose to meet her.

Dune grabbed her before she kissed the cement. He wrapped his arm about her waist and lifted her off the seat. The cycle rolled several feet and fell over.

Rick caught up to the two of them. “Riding backward is twice as hard as going forward.” He applauded her. “You’re a natural, Sophie.”

Her talent was the last thing on her mind. What struck her first was how tight Dune held her. He was squeezing the life out of her. Her breasts pressed against his chest and their hip bones bumped. Her feet dangled six inches off the ground.

She flattened her hand over his heart and felt it race against her palm. The beat was far too fast for the short distance he’d run. She wiggled her toes, wanting to stand. He released her so quickly she staggered backward. Rick steadied her.

Anger narrowed Dune’s eyes and his nostrils flared. “This isn’t the Chamber of Commerce,” he stated.

No, it was not, Sophie silently agreed.

“What were you thinking?” he asked her, only to turn on Rick before she could answer. “You put her in danger,” he accused.

Sophie removed her helmet. Her hands shook as she slid her glasses up her nose. Her legs barely supported her. “Unicycling was my idea,” she managed. “I asked Rick to teach me. It’s all part of my boardwalk experience.”

“The sport is safe if you take it slow,” said Rick.

“Slow?” Dune crossed his arms over his chest, then looked down on them both. “She was riding a runaway unicycle in reverse.”

“She didn’t fall,” Rick said, making his case.

“Because I got to her first.”

Rick shot Dune an odd look. “What are you, her keeper?” he asked. “I would’ve caught her before she hit your Harley.”

His motorcycle
. Sophie now understood Dune’s anger. His concern lay with his bike and not with her. She’d come within five feet of hitting his prized possession. She doubted Rick would’ve reached her in time, no matter his assurance.

“The lesson’s over,” Dune said to his cousin.

Rick was about to object, but the look in Dune’s eyes moved him along. Rick retrieved the package Dune had dropped and tossed it to him. He then picked up the unicycle and walked Sophie back to his beach chair. She removed her protective pads and he packed it all up along with her helmet. She grabbed her shoulder bag.

“Later,” Rick said as he set the chair, unicycle, and gear in the back of his pickup truck. He waved as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Sophie wasn’t sure what to do or say next. The moment was awkward. Her shyness tied her stomach in knots. She hadn’t meant to deceive Dune. She’d merely cut the corners off the truth. He was looking at her now as if she’d lost her mind.

“Don’t be mad at me,” she said softly.

His jaw worked. “I’m not mad, merely concerned. You made my heart race.”

“You were afraid for me?” That surprised her. “I thought you were worried about your motorcycle.”