Chapter 10
The night had been too good. Better than any other date Sophie had been on, and it hopefully wasn’t close to over yet, because there was enough tension between her and Nate — the good kind of tension — that a simple good-night kiss at her door wasn’t what she wanted.
Even the setting was romantic. After their superb, no-frills dinner at Raul’s, Nate had whisked her away to their mysterious destination, which turned out to be the miniature golf course overlooking the bay on the south side of the island.
Sophie had never been there, as it was usually overrun with tourists, and golf had never been her thing.
Oh, who was she kidding? The idea to go mini golfing had never even remotely crossed her mind.
The course was nearly deserted tonight, thanks to temperatures in the fifties and Texans’ general tendency to consider anything under seventy-five downright freezing.
With a thick sweater and a date who liked to touch her, it was bearable.
More than. In fact, fifty degrees might become her new favorite temperature if it meant she got to have Nate’s arm around her all the time, with his body pressed next to hers, infusing her with even more than ninety-eight-point-six degrees of heat.
“Do you like your cocoa with whipped cream or without?” Nate asked as he sat down next to her on the picnic bench near the water.
“Without, if I have a choice.” She rarely allowed herself to drink cocoa — hello, carb city — but tonight had the feel of a special occasion.
Nate handed her a steaming cup with a cardboard strip around it to protect her fingers from the heat. Their hands touched — for the two hundredth time tonight — and the spark of interest still jolted her, made her long to touch him more.
“Thank you.”
Though she’d been marginally interested in the guys she’d dated in the past and she’d had sex with a couple of them, this was different somehow.
She’d never been this attracted to a man before, never ever in her life considered inviting a guy to come home with her.
They seemed in tune with each other, like Nate was as into her as she was him.
There was a connection there, something she couldn’t put into words.
Something she couldn’t allow herself to think about too hard.
It’d been a couple of years — okay, more than three — since she’d been on a date. Maybe this was just the difference between twenty-eight and thirty-one years old. Weren’t women supposed to be at their sexual peak in their thirties?
“Still can’t get over it that you’ve never played mini golf before,” Nate said as he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her into him so that their bodies touched all along their sides, from their thighs to their shoulders. “Or that you won that first game.”
“I was close on the third game, don’t forget. Next time, I will prevail.”
“Beginner’s luck.”
“Never.” Sophie laughed. “I may be more than a little competitive.”
“I thought you were going to ask them to turn the background music off so you could concentrate on that last shot.”
“Hey, a free game was at stake. That would obligate you to take me out again.”
Nate turned his head toward her and nuzzled in close. “That’s the kind of obligation I can get behind. But if you think free golf is a requirement for me to take you out again, you’re missing some serious signs from me.”
He glanced over his shoulder toward the bright lights of the course, then nodded toward the city walkway in front of them that wound along the shore all the way from the southern tip of the island to the bridge that crossed to the mainland.
“Want to take a walk? Get away from the tinny-sounding music pumping through those crappy speakers behind us?”
She took a sip of her cocoa and nodded. She wanted nothing more than to be alone with him. He stood and held out his hand, and she took it with her empty one. They locked their fingers together, the roughness of his skin giving her an inexplicable thrill.
As they put distance between themselves and the blaring, treble-heavy music, the night became quieter.
Peaceful. Nothing but the two of them. There was a slight breeze, but this side of the island was protected and much calmer than the gulf side.
Nate’s hand and his attention warmed her to her toes anyway.
They finished their cocoa and threw the cups away in a trash can along the path.
“It was good, but not nearly as good as the brownies you brought to the station,” Nate said. “My dad said to tell you those were the best brownies he’s ever had, and he’s had a lot of brownies in fifty-five years.”
Sophie laughed. “I’m telling you again, I had very little to do with how they turned out. But I’ll give the message to Iona.” Without discussing it, they turned onto a wide dock and walked out over the water to a bench at the end. “Your dad seems nice. Quiet though.”
“He was just behaving himself for once. He’s rarely quiet — at the station or at home.”
“You work with him and live with him?”
“Yeah, as much as I hate to own up to living at home. I have the top floor, he has the bottom, and the middle is the living room and kitchen. It’s a bachelor pad through and through.”
“Big-screen TV?”
“Yep.”
“Pool table?”
He laughed. “In the family room.”
“You’re living a stereotype.”
“I know. It’s not so bad, but I’m thinking it’s about time for me to get my own place,” he said. “Lately, it’s gotten weird. My dad has a lady friend. First time since my mom left.”
“Sounds … tricky.”
“Yeah, nothing like running into her in the kitchen at six a.m., me in my boxers and her in a robe.”
“Awkward.”
“I’m just relieved she was wearing a robe.
Thanksgiving will be strange this year. Our tradition is to totally bachelor out.
We fry a turkey, make a full-on feast, and invite any guys from the station who don’t have family nearby.
Football on the TV, pool games ongoing. This year, Elsa will be there. ”
“Do you like her?”
“I don’t really know her. He’s just started bringing her home within the past two weeks.”
A fish jumped a few feet out from the dock, and without thinking, Sophie rested her head on Nate’s shoulder, breathing in the night air. Savoring the contentment.
“You should join us for Turkey Day if you don’t have other plans. Then it wouldn’t be so weird.”
Sophie lifted her head, alarmed. Thanksgiving? With his family?
“Um, I … I don’t really do Thanksgiving, but thank you.
If Elsa gets along with your dad,” she said, rushing on in an attempt to divert his attention from her refusal, “I imagine she’ll hold her own with any of the guys who show up.
It sounds like you two are close enough you can weather a lady friend. Thanksgiving or otherwise.”
The way his look lingered at her from the side told her he’d noticed. She held her breath, waiting for him to pursue her reasons for saying no to his invitation.
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong — I’m happy for him. Just gonna take some getting used to it. It’s been the two of us for so long…”
“How long?” Sophie asked, breathing again. Diverting his attention again.
“My mom left when I was nine. Third grade. Crushed me. She sat me down one night before bed and told me she was ‘called to help.’ She left on her first missionary trip to Costa Rica two days later, and every day after that, for God knows how long, I used to run all the way home from school to see if she’d changed her mind and come back yet. ”
“She didn’t?”
“There were visits every once in a while. They became less and less frequent. I got older and madder, and when I was sixteen, I told her I didn’t want to see her anymore.”
Sophie’s chest tightened with an all-too-familiar ache. She battled it, tamped down the anger that always came with it, this time on his behalf as well as hers.
Not now. Not on this perfect date.
Managing a squeeze of support on his thigh, she discreetly turned her head away, as if the headlights of the cars crossing the mile-long bridge in the distance had caught her attention. In truth, she didn’t want him to see if her eyes glistened suspiciously.
“I’ll never understand how a person can just walk away from her family,” he said. “Her kid. Her own flesh and blood. You know?”
God yes.
She stood, as if the view of the water in the dark was better from two feet closer, when she was really fighting hard against everything inside of her that was trying to get out.
Nate came up next to her. Didn’t touch her except where his upper arm barely brushed her shoulder. “I guess … yeah. Maybe you do know?” he said.
Jaw clamped tightly, she bit down on her tongue, zeroing in on the physical pain because that she was in control of.
That she could handle. The tempest inside caught her off guard — it’d been ages since she’d allowed the feelings to invade this much.
Ages for everything except the anger, because getting mad was easy.
“How old were you when your dad left?” Nate asked quietly.
No. She wasn’t going there. Wasn’t answering that question, because then there’d be another … and another. And all of the answers would rip her open little by little.
Her pulse pounded in her throat and at her temples, and she sucked in the cool night air slowly, discreetly. Deeply. Willed the pounding to ease and frantically tried to come up with a way to avoid this topic that she’d never gone into with anyone.
“Sophie?” Again, he wove their fingers together.
She turned toward him, looked up at his handsome, shadowed face. His eyes that stared questioningly back at hers. His lips. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him, eager to taste him again and, yes, eager to distract him.
Within seconds, she was distracted herself, caught up in the warmth of his breath, the taste of his tongue, the feel of his hand on the back of her neck, gentle at first, then drawing her closer.
Her senses were overcome with him, the hint of chocolate on his breath, the heat of his hands and his mouth, the quiet sounds he made as they explored and caressed each other.
Nate was torn. On the one hand, he wanted to kiss this woman for a month or so without stopping. On the other, he wasn’t an idiot. He could read signs, and he was getting a big, fat disconnect on the conversation he’d tried to have.
He’d always been a big fan of compromising, which was why he spent a good few minutes devouring her mouth and relishing her sweet taste, her sexy little noises. Each time they came up for air, he tried to convince himself to pull back, but it took several attempts.
“Soph,” he finally said, still nibbling at her delectable lips.
“Yes?” Her voice was a sexy purr.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that.”
“Notice what?”
By sheer force of will, he took a half a step back so their bodies were no longer touching. He entwined their fingers, both hands, and leaned his forehead into hers, unable to break the connection fully. “The way you dodged that conversation. About your dad,” he said gently.
After witnessing the phone call from the guy the other day in the hospital, Nate was curious as hell.
Mystified that she was so hateful of him.
Sophie didn’t seem like a hateful person.
Admittedly, he didn’t know her very well in some ways, but in others, he felt like he’d known her for years.
And that only made him want to understand the story between her and her father that much more.
She must have good reasons for feeling the way she did.
It was an unfamiliar thing — wanting to understand every single facet of this woman and her life.
Foreign territory for a guy who’d always been content to play the field and avoid getting hooked at all costs.
Seemed he’d gotten hooked the second he’d seen her terrified, determined brown eyes in the fire.
“I… Yeah,” she said. “I don’t talk about him.” There was no apology in her voice whatsoever.
Nate nudged her chin upward with his fingers so she met his gaze. “I want to know you, Sophie.” He bit down on anything else that might pop out of his mouth. He didn’t want to freak her out, and frankly, his feelings were freaking him out more than a little.
“You’ve seen me at my worst,” she said with a half grin. “That’s more than ninety-nine percent of people ever get to know.”
He couldn’t make himself smile back. And yet he couldn’t say what he wanted to. He’d like to avoid the label of creeper at all costs.
“Nate, we met less than ten days ago. I’m not good at this. Opening up—”
“I get it.” He nodded, knowing she was right. “It’s okay.”
Nate bent forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, battling the maelstrom inside of him. He was losing it. It was whacked out to care so much about someone so fast. Someone who wasn’t wild about letting him care, letting him know her.
“It’s okay,” he repeated, “but I should probably get you home.”