No Strings Attached (12 page)

He settled in beside her and buckled up. “Ready?” he asked.

She nodded. She was as ready as she’d ever be.

Thirty minutes later, Dune parked the Tahoe on a side street near Molly Malone’s diner. They walked a short distance and took their place in line at the entrance to the pier. Six men formed a barrier, each taking tickets as Shaye, Jenna, and Trace welcomed the couples.

It was a magical night, Sophie thought. Her decorating efforts the previous evening added to the enchantment. She’d worked alongside Shaye and numerous volunteers to breathe life into the Sneaker Ball.

The pier pulsed with excitement and anticipation as if the night had a secret up its sleeve. Sophie’s heart quickened and she found herself smiling for no reason.

All around her the rides and amusements stood dark. The tiny white lights strung between poles twinkled against the fading twilight. She loved late spring when the days stretched toward summer and the sun stayed up late.

She glanced toward the Gulf and her stomach fluttered. She faced her fears tonight. She didn’t do well around water. High tide cast waves against the wooden pilings. Frothy foam spread along the sand. The beach was empty. It was a night to be on the pier, to party, dance, and support a community cause.

Florists had supplied fragrant plants and flowers. The summer perfume of Heaven Scent gardenias, Angel Trumpets, and Night-blooming Jasmine wafted on the salt air. A slight breeze kept the humidity at bay.

Trace and his crew had rolled out a red carpet. Sophie looked down its length at the hundreds of people gathered. Smiling, happy people out to have a good time. The men’s sneakers were either solid or two-tone colors while the women’s were flirty and feminine. Their sneakers ranged from tiger stripes and pastel plaids to all that glittered.

Violet from the diner wore gold tennies sprinkled with fairy dust. Nicole Archer from the jewelry store had slipped into a pair of pink satin ballerina-style sneakers. The ballet ties wrapped her calves.

Sophie’s steps were tentative and her knees started to buckle. She clutched Dune’s arm a little tighter.
You can do this
was her mantra for the night.

He let her take the lead, allowing her to focus on the fun and not her fears. He produced the couple’s ticket and they entered easily. Her brother Trace came forward and smiled encouragingly. Shaye and Jenna embraced her.

“The bar’s set up at the far end of the pier and the buffet is across from the bumper cars,” Shaye told them. “Dance wherever there’s space.”

Dancing,
another hurdle to clear.

“Ready?” Dune asked, looking concerned.

She didn’t want him worrying about her. “Very ready,” she assured him.

Mac James was the first person she recognized. He leaned against the pier railing, looking restless. He caught her eye and winked. She winked back. “Sophie, babe,” he said on their approach. “You look hot, sweetheart.”

“So I’ve told her,” said Dune.

Sophie felt his arm tense beneath her fingers.

Surely he wasn’t upset by Mac’s compliment. The two men exchanged a look. Mac grinned and Dune’s jaw tightened.

“You made it.” Dune seemed surprised.

“Jen finally caved and accepted my second invitation,” Mac told them. “The woman can debate an issue to death.”

“She made you work for it,” said Dune.

“Jen agreed to our date two hours before the event,” said Mac. “She’s last minute.”

“So are you,” Dune added.

“I thought I was doing her a favor until she set down rules.” Mac didn’t appear happy. “I had to park at the curb and honk. She didn’t want me near her house. I was banned from the pier entrance. She refused to let me greet the guests. I’m a people person. I can shake hands and smile. I’m not out to embarrass her.”

“Maybe your clothes put her off,” said Dune.

Mac pulled a face. “I was forced to raid Frank’s closet. We’re talking 1940s. Grandpa needs to update,” he said to Dune.

Sophie couldn’t help but grin. She liked his look. “Your navy suit is very swing scene,” she said. “Your hand-painted tie with the pin-up girl is classic.”

The corner of Mac’s eye twitched. “I thought my suit was dark brown.” He snapped his black suspenders. “These pants have a permanent postwar crease.” He scratched his thigh. “The fabric is itchy. They’re so high cut at the waist, they restrict my blood flow.” He adjusted himself.

“Hands out of your pockets,” said Dune.

“Frank tossed me a fedora on my way out, which I left in his pickup,” Mac added.

“Nice sneakers,” said Sophie.

“Converse is my brand.”

Mac pushed off the railing and glanced toward the buffet being set up just beyond the carousel. “Damn, I’m hungry. Maybe I could sneak a plate.”

“You should wait until Jen wraps up her hostess duties,” Dune said. “The buffet doesn’t open for an hour.”

Mac didn’t heed Dune’s advice. He eased around Sophie and headed toward the food. “No one will miss a chicken wing.”

“Marisole will cut off his hands if he steals one bite,” Sophie said. “Trace put her in charge. Our chef will guard the buffet with her life.”

“I’ve seen her wield a kitchen knife,” said Dune. “The snap of serving tongs can be just as dangerous.”

The heat index rose as more guests arrived. Dune ran his fingers beneath his collar and loosened his tie. “A man’s got to breathe,” he said.

“How about a beer?” she asked. She knew her brother Trace appreciated a cold one on a hot day. Dune looked warm.

“A good idea,” he agreed. “Do you want to wait here or come with me?”

“Go with you.” She didn’t want to be left alone.

He took her by the hand and led her along the railing toward the makeshift bar. It took an hour for them to reach their destination.

Dune was home. He knew everyone and they slowed his progress. His popularity rolled on to Sophie. People were polite, but their full attention was on her date. She stood beside him, yet she felt a pier length behind him. She was glad he held her hand; otherwise she might’ve been pushed aside or possibly shoved over the railing. The Gulf looked dark and scary.

Dune sensed her unease. “Excuse us,” he finally said.

The bamboo bar curved like a horseshoe. Six bartenders poured drinks. The line moved fast. “Wine, water, something iced and fruity?” Dune asked when it came time for them to order.

Sparkling water didn’t sound like a party drink. She knew so little about alcohol. He came to her rescue, “Coors and a virgin piña colada,” he ordered for her.

Drinks in hand, they strolled back down the pier. It was less crowded toward the entrance. That was where they chose to enjoy their drinks. Sophie ate the fruit from the cocktail spear, then twirled the tiny pink umbrella between her thumb and forefinger. The pink spun white to red beneath the twinkling lights.

She wasn’t a big conversationalist, but Dune didn’t seem to mind. He leaned back against the railing and sipped his beer. “My life has been crazy lately,” he said. “It feels good to unwind. It’s you and me tonight as far as I’m concerned. No one else matters.”

No one else mattered.
She liked the fact he could relax with her. He was so handsome that she’d never breathe easy around him. He gave her butterflies.

Raised voices and a sudden commotion turned their attention toward the six men taking tickets. People shifted, allowing Sophie a look at the gatecrasher.

She blinked over his size. He looked tough as nails with his square jaw and military haircut. He was built like a wrestler. He wore a black T-shirt, jeans, and athletic shoes. She bet he had tattoos and outstanding warrants.

The man pushed by the ticket takers. He didn’t give Trace the time of day. Instead he faced off with Shaye. His scowl was dark, his fists clenched. “I want in.” His voice was deep and angry.

Shaye didn’t give an inch. Her stance was aggressive for a woman in a pale lavender slip dress and orange Adidas. “Sorry, pal, you can’t enter without a ticket.” She held her ground.

“Tickets sold out yesterday.” The man’s voice carried on the air. People openly stared. A few narrowed their eyes. One man appeared to swallow a smile, which shocked Sophie. There was no humor in this standoff. The new arrival was mad. She was afraid someone might get hurt.

“You had plenty of time to buy one,” Shaye stated. “They’ve been on sale for months.”

“I only arrived today.”

Shaye squared her shoulders. “No forethought. It’s not my fault you didn’t plan ahead.”

“I live day to day,” he said harshly.

The argument made Sophie shiver. She leaned closer to Dune. She didn’t do well with confrontation. Her stomach squeezed and she felt nauseous.

“You need to leave.” Trace backed up his wife.

“Hell, no,” said the man.

Dune stiffened beside her. “I’ll move him along,” he said to Sophie. “Wait here.” He walked toward the entrance.

Sophie shook off her fear and followed at a safe distance. She watched as Dune edged between Jenna and Shaye. Dune was several inches taller than the man, yet the man was thicker in the chest. Their expressions were confrontational; their stances intimidating. The air rippled with testosterone.

“Leave now or I’ll be forced to remove you,” Dune told the man. He passed Shaye his empty bottle of Coors, then slipped off his suit jacket. Jen took it from him.

“Dial nine-one-one now,” said the man. “Jackass is going to need an ambulance.”

Sophie panicked. She couldn’t bear for them to fight. The man wanted a ticket and she had an extra one in her evening bag. Dune had used his ticket to enter the dance. She had brought hers just in case he forgot his.

She drew a deep breath and pushed through the thickening crowd. The tension between the men was palpable. A mere foot separated them now. Both were close to throwing a punch.

Her knees were shaking so badly she was afraid she’d sprain an ankle. Yet she managed to make it to Dune’s side. She gripped his arm. “Stop, both of you.” Her voice was so soft she wasn’t sure anyone heard her.

Dune did. He took a step back. He glanced down on her fingers and his brow creased. He looked as uncertain as she felt. “Trust me, Sophie, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Her courage was motivated by her fear of Dune getting hurt. “There’s no need to fight. I have an extra ticket.” She unsnapped the clasp on her bag and produced it. She passed it to the angry man. “Please, take it.”

The man stared at her. His dark brown eyes were nearly black. His mouth twisted menacingly.

Her words ran together when she added, “You don’t have a date and you’re dressed inappropriately, but at least you’re wearing sneakers. Shaye may make an exception for you.”

Silence settled so heavily, Sophie couldn’t breathe. Everyone stared at her. All appeared stunned. Most were speechless. No one could believe her actions. Dune seemed the most shocked.

“Damn, she’s civilized,” the man finally said.

“She’s got more manners than you,” said Jenna.

“She’s also pale,” the man noted.

“You frightened her,” Shaye said, her tone disapproving. “She’s shaking.”

Fear had drained her. Sophie’s heart still raced. She placed her hand on her chest and took a few deep breaths.

Jenna returned Dune’s suit jacket. He immediately draped it over Sophie’s shoulders. He then tucked her against his side. She found his body solid and comforting.

“You’re safe for now,” the man told Dune. “I won’t mess up your pretty face tonight, but watch your back tomorrow. I’ll catch you without your protector.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Dune said.

“Knock it off, you two,” Shaye scolded before she threw her arms around the big man with the bad attitude. She hugged him tightly. “Welcome home.”

Dune slapped him on the back and the men bumped fists. “It’s good to see you, bro.”

Sophie’s eyes went wide.
Home? Bro?

The man grinned at her with a flash of white teeth and a single dimple. He relaxed his stance. “I didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart,” he said. “My taunting is a ritual. It’s who I am. I make a scene and blow off steam. I haven’t seen my family in months.”

“Eight months to be exact,” said Shaye. “Zane is the worst of us all. He acts out.”

Dune made the introductions. “Sophie Saunders, my date, meet Insane Zane, my younger brother.”

“A Saunders, huh?” Zane asked.

“Insane?” His nickname left Sophie uneasy.

“She’s Trace’s sister,” Dune responded first to his brother, then to Sophie. “Zane’s a hurricane hunter with the 53rd Weather Reconnaissance Squadron. He’s stationed at Keeslar Air Force Base in Biloxi, Mississippi. He flies into tropical storms and the eye of a hurricane. He’s mental.”

Zane stared at Sophie. “My job’s a little more dangerous than playing volleyball.”

“Not if you have Mac James as a partner,” Dune said and everyone laughed.

Everyone but Sophie. She had yet to fully comprehend the Cates family
ritual
. One in which even Shaye played a part. They had an unusual way of greeting each other. She shouldn’t have interfered, yet her fear for Dune had been real. She hoped she hadn’t embarrassed him.

“Sophie,” Zane said. “You are brave, babe. How long have you been Dune’s bodyguard?”

She was anything but brave, yet boldness had stirred when she thought Dune was in trouble. “I don’t protect,” she said softly. “I find solutions. I had an extra ticket.”

“Speaking of tickets,” Zane said to Shaye. “You could’ve sent me one or set one aside.”

“You should’ve called,” she said. “I had no idea you were coming home.”

“Pure spur of the moment trip.”

Shaye frowned. “You never make plans.”

“Whenever I do, they usually get canceled.”

“No date?” Dune asked.

“I thought I’d steal yours.”

“I go home with who I bring.” Dune drew Sophie even closer. Her cheek pressed the front pocket on his shirt. She wrapped her arm about his waist. They were a natural fit. His strength and warmth relaxed her.

“She’s cute,” Zane said.

“She’s classic,” said Mac James, coming to join them. “Stand in line, dude, I met her long before you did.”