18. Sophie
CHAPTER 18
SOPHIE
T he arena isn’t far from the beach, so we arrive within minutes. The sun peaked several hours ago and will soon descend into sunset, with the days getting shorter. And that’s what I’m waiting for—the magical display of colors that streak the evening sky over Mango Key Beach.
I know sunsets can be a little cliché, but I can’t help myself. It’s my own personal challenge—to take THE BEST one yet. And sunsets tend to be more intense after a thunderstorm, but they are always spectacular on Mango Key Beach.
Romantic too. Opening up to Luke last night about my pitiful track record wound up relieving this pressure I didn’t realize was there. I feel like I’ve been justified in a way. Almost as if Luke defended me against the ghosts of my past boyfriends.
More importantly, he doesn’t think I’m an emotional spew bag. Maybe those other guys were all wrong for me. Does that mean Luke’s the right one?
Once we’re on the beach, I hold out my bag handles to Luke. He’s here, so I might as well take advantage of his helpfulness. “Do you mind?”
He holds his hands out. “Not at all.”
I pull out my camera and swap lenses .
Luke studies my every move, making me feel self-conscious. “Can I ask you something?”
I pause what I’m doing at his serious tone. “Sure.”
“Why isn’t your bag pink?”
I bark out a laugh mixed with a little relief. “I didn’t expect that question. Why do you ask?”
“It’s obvious you love pink. Just makes sense that you’d have a pink bag.”
He noticed my love for pink…I mean, it’s pretty obvious, since I intentionally wear something pink on my person every day. Kind of a joke that started between my dad and me. Almost a game.
I keep my focus on adjusting to my camera because talking about my dad sometimes brings out my emotional side. Guess I’m still nervous about showing him the full Sophie effect. “My father bought it for me as a graduation present.”
I dare a glance to gauge his reaction, too, because I know he’s still dealing with the loss of his mother.
His expression warms. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“Bringing up a painful subject.”
“It’s okay. I love talking about him.” I gesture with my camera toward the shoreline to let him know where I’m heading. “My dad loved to tease me about my love of everything and anything pink. So it became a game. I would wear something pink every day, just to see him shake his head or laugh. He would buy me things that weren’t pink, saying he had to balance me out.”
He lifts the bag up. “So he bought you a brown bag.”
I giggle. “Yes, he did. And it reminds me of him every day.” I sigh. “We’d planned to take a trip to Japan one day to see the cherry blossoms in bloom—my ultimate pink dream.”
“He sounds like he was a lot of fun.”
“Yes, and a bit of a prankster, but I knew how to get even.” I incline my head toward the bag. “Look inside. ”
Luke peeks in. One side of his mouth kicks up as soft laughter rumbles up from his chest, making my pulse go haywire. “Everything in here is pink.”
“Sometimes revenge is pink,” I muse as I lift my chin.
He whistles through his teeth. “Wow, you really are good with words.”
If I could, I’d preen like one of those wild green parrots that flutter about the palm trees. As it is, I’m sure my cheeks resemble the bright pink starting to streak the sky. “Why, thank you.”
“I mean that.” He dips his chin with an uncharacteristic shyness. “I read the articles you’ve written so far and was genuinely impressed. And your photos are some of the best I’ve seen.”
This lightness overcomes me, making me realize how much tension I’d held in anticipation of his reaction to my work. I think I could walk on the waves riding up onto the shore right now.
I smile at him. “Does that mean you don’t think I’m some dirt-digging reporter anymore?” I regret the words the minute they leave my mouth, even if I meant it as a joke. “Sorry. Forget I said that.”
He stops me from walking away. “You’re an amazing journalist , Sophie. I’m sorry I was so quick to judge.”
I shield my eyes from the glow of the dipping sun. “It’s understandable.”
His head tilts to the side in a micro movement as his brows draw down.
“I read the article that came out after your mother’s death. You know that paper was just a gossip rag, right? They get sued at least once a month.”
“That doesn’t justify what they did.” A fierceness flashes in his eyes, then recedes like the waves from the shore. He tips his head back with a long exhale. “Sorry. Just when I think I’m past it, I get angry all over again.”
I press my lips together and nod. “It made me angry too.”
His eyes flash as he impales me with that molten gaze of his. “Thank you for saying that.”
“I meant it.” We both seem to be saying things we mean right now.
One side of his mouth tilts up. “I believe you.”
We continue our trek toward the water as the growing sounds of ocean waves dance up the shore in a steady rhythm. Just above the shoreline, I stop and take a few shots of a boat that has a pelican perched on the bow, voraciously gobbling down chunks of fish left out for him.
Luke draws in a deep breath next to me, then releases it with a sigh. I had a feeling this would be good for him, to decompress from the pressures of the new season starting…and looking out for his sister.
He doesn’t know that Kinsley texted me that her professor allowed her to resubmit her paper. She wound up changing her mind about the entire thing and wrote about Luke instead. I wish I could be a fly on the wall to see his face when she tells him.
“This was a great idea.” He sounds calm…peaceful.
“I had a feeling you’d like this.”
He swivels his head toward me. “Thank you. Again.”
I tilt my smile and lift one shoulder. “Don’t mention it, Iceman.”
But there’s something I would dearly like to mention myself. Not to be nosy, but to prove to him that I’m not some reporter digging for dirt. I care about Luke—maybe more than care, but I’m not ready to examine that yet—and I want to know everything about him.
I take another shot of the pelican flapping his wings at the boat owner, demanding more fish. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.” He ticks up one side of those gorgeous lips of his into a lopsided grin. “Pun intended.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes at his almost dad-level joke. But speaking of dads… “Do you remember anything about your father?”
His smile slips as he looks away, but not completely. He stares out at the water in a pause long enough to make me think he won’t answer. Maybe I overstepped, and now he‘s rethinking his opinion of my work. Or me. Maybe I am a nosy reporter who should have kept her mouth shut. Before I can take my question back, he starts talking.
“Not really. He wasn’t around much. He would go on these business trips and be gone for weeks at a time.” He puts air quotes around ‘business trips.’
The article I read said he was arrested for drug trafficking, so I assume that’s what he’s referencing. “That must have been hard on your mom.”
“Not really. Funny thing is, our house was peaceful when he was away.” He clears his throat. “I didn’t find out until later that he was dealing drugs.”
His honesty ignites not only my curiosity but this desire to listen and hear his heart. I suspect Luke hasn’t had that in his life since his mother died. “Your mom told you?”
He shakes his head. “She just said he walked out on us. I found out the truth after her death.”
The pieces click into place. “From that article.”
He grunts.
“And Kinsley knows too?”
“She read it too,” he grumbles.
“That must have been so difficult for you both.” I rest my hand on his chest. My eyes are burning with tears for him and his sister. I wish I could go back in time and either deck that reporter or be there for them both as they grieved.
And they’re still grieving…
He lifts my fingers to his mouth first, then kisses the inside of my wrist, making me feel wanted…chosen. But his lips are like a branding iron, sending heat all the way up my arm. And I can’t stop staring at those delicious lips when he lowers my hand in a motion that draws me to him.
Our lips finally meet in a kiss that’s tender and sweet, a soft whisper of gratitude dancing between us, as if he’s thanking me for every moment of care that’s woven us together thus far. The sun bathes my back in golden warmth but pales in comparison to the heat radiating from Luke’s body pressed against mine, igniting every nerve in my being.
He cradles my hand against his heart, its steady rhythm pulsing beneath my palm—a powerful, comforting beat that echoes the stirring in my own heart. As he deepens the kiss, the world around us dissolves and fades into nothingness. All I know is the intoxicating connection between us and this amazing, mind-blowing, never-want-it-to-end kiss—hashtag neverbeenkissedlikethis.
When he places his other hand on the small of my back, the bag he’s so patiently held swings into the back of my knees, making them bend. I jerk away in reaction to the sensation of falling, but Luke catches me.
“I’ve got you.” That slow, easy smile of his makes a path across his face like the sun arcing through the sky. Sunlight glints off his irises, revealing tiny amber streaks that I didn’t notice before. If I could touch those like I did his lips, I would. They resemble the first glimmers of a sunrise and are filled with the promise of something I want more than anything but am afraid to hope for.
I’m like that greedy pelican, hungry for more of the fisherman’s catch. And I shudder in the reality that not only did Luke catch me, but he’s caught my heart as well.
Hook, line, and sinker.
After I dropped Luke off at his car, I’d intended to go home, but Marty sent a text asking if I could come see him at the office. I don’t think he ever leaves work before seven most evenings.
When I arrive, the place is empty and dark, except for the glow of light streaming out of Marty’s doorway. I stride in, plop my bag in a chair in front of his desk, and drop into the other one, folding my hands over my abdomen. “What’s up, Marty?”
He pushes his reading glasses to the top of his head as he looks up from the piece he’s editing, which he taps with his forefinger. “This piece on Luke Jameson is some of your best work, kiddo.”
I didn’t think this day could get any better. My smile’s so broad it makes my cheeks hurt. “Thank you. I’m pretty proud of it myself.”
“I can’t wait to see the reaction to this one tomorrow. Are the photos for it already uploaded?”
“Yep. My best shots are in the folder.”
He studies me for a moment. “You put a lot more emotion in this one.”
His cautious tone puts me on alert. “Yeah, I guess so. This assignment’s really turning into something more than I originally thought.”
“Do you mean Luke is turning into something more than you expected?” He smiles in a fatherly way.
I straighten in my chair, attempting to appear as oblivious as possible. “What are you talking about?”
He tilts his head at me as if I’m being evasive, which I am. “I know you and your work well enough to read between the lines, Soph. You’re invested.”
“So I care about what I’m writing. What’s the big deal?”
“I think this is more than care, kiddo.”
I stare down at my hands. “And what if it is?”
He clears his throat, which is his way of telling me to look at him. “Does he have feelings for you too?”
I pinch my lips together and nod.
“Then I’m happy for you, but a word of caution.” The subtle lift of his brows signals his request for permission.
“Yes?” I hope he speaks fast because I’m not sure how long I can hold my breath.
“Be careful. The season has barely started, and you’ll be with the team for several months. I’d hate to see you navigating that with a broken heart.”
“What makes you think that’s going to happen?” I fist my hands in my lap.
“He’s a hockey player? And a damn good one from what I’m reading here.”
“So? What’s that got to do with it?”
He hesitates. “Rebecca Piedmont called to rave about your work.”
Okay, still not sure where he’s going with this, but I’m feeling that need to preen a little. “That’s great! But what’s that got to do with Luke potentially breaking my heart? Which, for the record, I disagree.”
He leaves his chair to perch on the edge of his desk in front of me. “She thinks our coverage helped boost the image of the Sun Kings, which made a difference in their negotiations to become a farm team for Tampa Bay Lightning. And she may have mentioned they have their eye on Luke already. I have a feeling your article about him will help make it official.”
“That’s fantastic!” But in light of what Luke shared with me today, I’m not convinced he would want that. More exposure and publicity, for sure, which he seems to avoid like the plague.
Marty holds his hand out for mine, then pats it with his other one. “Fame and fortune change people. An NHL player is on the road a lot more too, and you and I both know ice bunnies are a real thing. I just want you to be cautious.”
“Luke’s not like that.” My words come out harsher than I intended. “I mean, he’s honest and real with me. Besides, he’s not interested in that level of exposure. I’m pretty sure he’d find that kind of attention…off-putting.”
What I’d really like to say is he’d see right through those chickas and tell them to get lost. At least I hope he would…
“Then just accept my concern as an overly cautious funcle, who doesn’t want to see his favorite person get hurt.”
I giggle at his use of my nickname for him. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I have no intentions of doing anything drastic.”
Mostly the truth. What I won’t tell him is that my heart is already at risk—big time.
“Good.” He releases my hand. “Glad we got that over with. This is why Clara and I never had kids. Too stressful.”
I try not to giggle but fail because I’ve watched the man juggle more challenging situations than a love-sick teenager. Which I’m not…definitely not a teenager, anyway. “Anything else you’d like to impart to me, Funcle?”
His grin returns at the use of his nickname. “No, that’s enough for the rest of this year. Just keep doing what you're doing, kiddo. This could turn into something big.”
A ripple of excitement surges through me. I’m finally beginning to see the fruits of my labor, and it’s even sweeter than I ever imagined.