Seven
Reflexively, Dune Cates placed his hand on Sophie’s shoulder and squeezed. “What’s the problem?” he asked, knowing full well what had gone down. He’d been watching her when she’d offered to assist the boys. He’d had a bad feeling when he recognized one of the kids. Randy Cates was a known thief.
His feet hit the pavement the moment the boy pocketed the sunglasses. Sophie was already ahead of him. She darted out the door, a woman out to right a wrong.
Randy could be difficult. He was the mayor’s son. His father was a single parent and too busy with city politics to control the boy’s behavior. The kid was raising himself. And not doing a very good job. He was always in trouble.
Juvenile detention was a revolving door for him. He had no business stealing sunglasses from relatives or anyone else for that matter. He’d do jail time as an adult if he didn’t get his act together.
The mayor faced an upcoming election in the fall. Randy was a high-profile kid, drawing bad press. People had started to question the mayor’s ability to govern a town when he couldn’t keep his own son in line.
The boy’s friends weren’t the least bit loyal. They’d split the moment Dune showed up, afraid of the consequences.
Randy’s jaw was now set, a kid of attitude and stubbornness. Dune waited for the boy to come to his senses. He didn’t want to call his father or cause a scene on the boardwalk.
He felt Sophie’s sigh beneath his palm. She looked more disappointed than mad. He’d nearly had a heart attack when she’d taken off after the boys. She thought to handle the problem alone. He was with her now. He had her back.
“Sophie, this is Randy, my second cousin,” Dune introduced them.
She stared at the boy. “Why did you take the sunglasses?” she asked.
“My friends dared me.”
“Some friends,” said Dune. “They took off and left you to hang.”
Heat scored Randy’s cheeks. He rolled his shoulders and stood tall. He was nearly Sophie’s height. The kid clutched the sunglasses so tight his knuckles turned white. Dune was certain he’d rather break them than return them.
Randy proved Dune right. He held up a pair of the West Coast Blue sunglasses, the latest hot brand sold at Three Shirts. The men’s shades were expensive. Randy’s father was conservative. He’d never give his son money to blow on such an item.
The boy had a mean streak. He twisted one plastic arm, and the frame nearly snapped. He then stuck his thumb on the inside of a dark blue lens and pushed. The lens held.
Randy was on a tear. What he couldn’t break with his hands he now chose to stomp with his foot. He threw the sunglasses down.
Dune was about to step in, when Sophie shaded her eyes and calmly said, “The sun certainly is bright. I can see why you need sunglasses.”
Randy grunted. “Duh, it’s Florida.”
“You have good taste,” she noted. “West Coast Blue is a popular style.”
“My brand,” from Randy.
“You should save your allowance and buy a pair.”
“Allowance? Get real.” He spat on the boardwalk, within an inch of Sophie’s foot. “My dad took away my spending money with my last B&E. He calls it discipline.”
Breaking and entering. Dune rubbed the back of his neck. The kid had a rap sheet.
“Perhaps you could get a job,” she suggested.
“Who’s going to hire me?” Randy asked. “I’m twelve. Shop owners see me coming and close their doors.”
“Doors shut because you shoplift,” Sophie reminded him.
Randy blinked. “I’ve got a rep to uphold.”
“I think you’re better than your rep.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not.”
“You’ve nothing to prove to your friends, but do you want adults to see you as a punk?” she asked.
Randy didn’t have an immediate answer. He kicked the sunglasses between his feet like a soccer ball. Scratches showed on the lenses.
Sophie was surprisingly formidable. She didn’t give an inch. Dune sensed she wouldn’t give up until Randy paid restitution on the shades. She cleared her throat and kept her voice low. “It takes a man to own up to his mistakes.”
“A man, huh?” Expectancy flashed in his eyes, soon replaced by cocky smugness. Dune could tell the boy had a chip on his shoulder and was mad at the world.
“Come back to the T-shirt shop, return the sunglasses, and apologize to Jenna,” Sophie said.
“Don’t sweat me,” Randy sneered. “I’m not sorry.”
“You should be,” she said. “Jen doesn’t steal from you and you shouldn’t steal from her.”
“She has more than me.”
“She’s earned everything she has.”
“Big whoop.” The kid had a smart mouth. He had no respect for adults or authority and even less for himself.
Dune listened and let it play out. Sophie was smart and sensitive and seemed to have a purpose. She wasn’t put off by Randy’s attitude. The kid would piss off the police.
“Square things with Jen and I’ll speak to her on your behalf,” she said, keeping her voice even. “I’ll see if you can work with me.”
She had his full attention now. Randy exhaled in a rush. “Work for money?”
“I’ll pay you—”
He scooped up the sunglasses and read the price sticker. “One hundred sixty an hour?”
“Get real,” Dune muttered.
Sophie shook her head. “I hired Violet’s nephew Chuck last week. He works outside in the heat and earns ten bucks an hour. You’ll be inside in the air conditioning. Eight bucks fits the job.”
“Nine,” Randy countered.
“Eight to start, with the possibility of a raise.” She held firm.
Randy looked so shocked it was almost comical. Dune would never forget his face. The boy’s surprise wore off quickly as he mentally calculated how many hours he’d have to work to pay off the shades. “Twenty hours,” he said. “You won’t cut me short, will you?”
The boy was afraid Sophie would take back her offer. Dune knew she would not. She would keep her word.
“I’ll support you as long as you show up on time and don’t screw me over,” she said.
Screw her over? Dune almost smiled. She’d laid down the law, along with a solid groundwork for Randy to achieve a goal, however small. The boy needed to uphold his end, too.
“What time tomorrow morning?” he asked.
“You start today,” Sophie informed him. “Dune will give your father a call. You’re underage. We need his approval.”
“My dad doesn’t give a rat’s ass what I do.”
Dune pulled out his cell phone and had a quick chat with the mayor. “We’re good to go,” he told Sophie.
Dune knew the shop owners would be pleased to hear Randy Cates was off the boardwalk for the rest of the afternoon. Word would spread rapidly. Randy and his friends were sly and sticky-fingered. Inventory disappeared in the blink of an eye. Complaints brought the cops.
The Detention Center wasn’t always the answer. Sophie apparently saw more in the kid than most of his relatives. It was a wait-and-see situation. Dune hoped she wouldn’t get burned.
He accompanied Sophie and Randy back to the T-shirt shop. Once inside, Sophie met the boy’s hard gaze with one of her own. “I have one final rule,” she told him. “You empty your pockets every afternoon before you leave the store.”
Randy dug in his heels, scowling and stubborn. “You got trust issues?”
“You have three pairs of stolen sunglasses in your pockets as we speak,” she reminded him.
He rolled his shoulders, as if to shake a monkey off his back. He emptied his pockets, then set the shades down on the front counter. “Happy now?” he asked Sophie.
“Happier still once you stop stealing.”
“Whatever.” The kid’s stomach growled. “I haven’t had lunch,” he said. “I was headed to the candy store when you stopped me.”
“Sugar is not a meal,” said Sophie. “You can have half my sandwich and a soda. Unfortunately the chips are all gone.” She glanced at Dune. “Chip run?”
“I’ll go,” he agreed, “after you’ve spoken with Jen.”
Dune made the boy wait with him while Sophie went to the storeroom. The women had a lengthy discussion. Five minutes passed, then ten. Randy shifted uneasily.
“Jen doesn’t want me,” the boy said.
“Sophie does,” Dune said. “She can be persuasive.”
Jenna didn’t look all that convinced when she later faced Randy. “I’ve been told you’re sorry,” she said.
Randy looked to Sophie. “That’s what I hear, too.”
“You have one chance. Blow it and you’re gone,” Jen said flatly. “You have the afternoon to prove yourself. It’s do or die, kid.”
Randy’s face tightened. For once, he didn’t talk back.
Dune took off on his errand. He ordered two additional PB&Js from Molly Malone’s Diner, then stopped at Crabby Abby’s for a bag of chips. He found Sophie and Randy sharing the remains of her sandwich. Jenna had finished her lunch and was unpacking boxes, a never-ending task.
Randy spotted Dune and shot off his chair so fast he jarred the table. Manners were not on his menu. He grabbed his sandwich along with the potato chips. He ripped open the bag, stuffed a handful in his mouth, then started on his sandwich. He had no concern for anyone else.
Sophie cleared her throat. “Pass the chips, please.”
Randy had tucked the bag under his arm and was slow to share. He finally set it down on the table between them. Dune noted the opening was turned away from Sophie, but she didn’t seem to mind. She took a few chips and let Randy have the rest. He crunched loudly.
“Chew with your mouth closed,” she told the boy.
He was slow to oblige. The kid was willful. He continued to chew openly and loudly before clamping his jaw shut. The remainder of the meal passed peacefully.
“Clean up and take out the garbage,” Sophie told Randy once they finished their lunch.
Randy processed her request. “I’m a janitor?” he asked.
“Custodian, salesperson, cashier, whatever, you’re building your résumé,” she explained.
Randy nodded. Once his first chore was complete, Dune watched as the kid sought out Sophie. He found her setting up a display of sand globes.
“What’s next?” Randy asked.
“You change clothes.”
The boy’s jaw set. “What wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“You’re in camouflage.” Dune joined them. “You look like you should be playing army, not working in a T-shirt shop.”
“Who’s buying? Not me.”
“You’ll get two work outfits,” said Sophie. “Keep them clean.”
“I’ve never used a washing machine.”
“Ask your dad to help you,” said Dune.
“He’s never around.”
“Neither are you,” said Dune. “If your father knows you’re at home and that you need help, I’m sure he’d be there for you.”
“Believe what you want.” He then turned toward a stack of youth T-shirts. He took his sweet time reading each slogan and logo. Still undecided, he moved to the adult racks.
“The kid’s stalling,” said Dune.
“But he’s not stealing.”
“That’s true.” Dune watched as Sophie gently shook a sand globe. Sand fluttered and the beach shifted. A tiny starfish, sea urchin, and kitten’s paw shell appeared.
“These globes are amazing,” she said.
“So are you,” Dune told her, and meant it. “You’ve got a way with kids. They like you.”
“They like earning money.” She was realistic.
“That, too,” he agreed.
He glanced around and became aware they were the only two in the store. Jenna was deep in boxes in the back and Randy was trying on clothes. Dune assisted Sophie with the sand globe display. The globes came in three sizes. He smiled as she staggered them in an attractive arrangement. She had flair.
The box was soon empty and ready to toss. They reached down at the same time. They bumped shoulders, arms, and hips. Her scent was on the air, all around him. On his skin, his clothes. An essence of vanilla, innocence, and sweet woman.
They straightened slowly. A mere fraction of an inch separated them. Their cheeks brushed. His stubble rasped her soft skin. He looked deeply into her eyes, a shadowed forest green. Her mouth was so near, he felt her breath on his chin.
Time had granted them a moment together. He went with his gut and kissed her. Her reaction was an indrawn breath followed by an involuntary sigh. She went still. He practiced great patience. Her pleasure was paramount.
Her lips soon softened and parted beneath his. He gently touched her with his tongue. She touched him back.
She was no longer tentative. She leaned into him, petite and curvy, warm and womanly. She aroused him.
An age-old tension charged the air until the creak of the dressing room door brought Dune back to his senses.
He broke their kiss, his breathing heavy.
Sophie’s breath stuck in her throat. Her gaze blurred and her heart raced. She’d been so caught up in Dune that she’d lost sight of her purpose.
She was responsible for Randy Cates. The boy stood off to their right, openly staring at them. He wore khaki shorts and an I Like Older Women T-shirt. His beat-up sneakers were untied.
“Do me a huge favor, man,” he said to Dune. “No kissing on my time.”
“Your time?” Sophie betrayed her surprise.
“You’re supposed to be teaching me stuff,” said Randy. “Hard to do when his mouth’s on you.”
“You’re right,” she agreed. “My first lesson: wear a shirt that is appropriate for your age.”
“I like this one,” he argued.
“Buy it with your own money then.”
He flipped the tag, calculated, “It costs eighteen dollars. I’d have to work an additional two-and-a-half hours to pay for it. I’m only here for the sunglasses.”
Dune lowered his voice near her ear. “He’s all yours.” He picked up the empty box and headed for the storeroom.
Sophie drew a deep breath. It seemed immature to argue with Randy. She tried logic. “There’s no need to advertise your preference in ladies. If you act mature, older women will find you attractive.”
“Are you into me?”
“I like men who are honest and trustworthy.”
“Not kids who shoplift,” Randy mimicked her voice.
Sophie was patient. “Anyone can change his life at any given moment.”
“Are you changing yours?” he asked.
His question hung in the air between them. “I’m working on it,” she said. “This is my summer to challenge myself and seek adventure.”
“What kind of adventures?” he wanted to know.
She told him about the different jobs she’d worked on the boardwalk. His eyes went wide when she mentioned the unicycle. “I didn’t have good balance,” she said.
His chin came up. “I do,” he bragged. “I skateboard and do tricks.”
“The uni-troupe needs an extra rider,” she told him. “If you’re interested—”
“Don’t do me any favors,” he said, shooting her down.
Sophie wondered if he was afraid he’d fail or if he didn’t want her interfering further in his life. She stepped back.
And he stepped forward in search of a different shirt. He held up a few for her approval.
She shook her head to reject shirts with the slogans Numbnuts and Bang It, but agreed on I Pushed Humpty-Dumpty —which he called lame, but still agreed to wear.
Dune returned shortly. He carried a box and a tall revolving magazine rack. He passed them both to Randy. “Jen wants you to set up the coloring books and crayons.”
The boy frowned. “I thought I was working for Sophie.”
“It’s Jen’s store,” Sophie said.
“But you’re the bank?” he asked.
“I’ll be paying you, yes.”
He nodded and got to work.
Shortly thereafter, Sophie and Dune helped Jenna hang shirts from the crab netting. The girls put the shirts on colorful plastic hangers and Dune hooked them in the nets. It was a team effort. Jenna was precise. She moved around the store, eyeing the shirts from all angles. She had Dune taking down and rearranging every other hanger. He didn’t object to the extra work. He was a patient man.
Sophie kept one eye on Randy. The boy worked diligently. The coloring books were a great addition to the store. The books depicted various scenes from Barefoot William. Children could sit on the beach and color beneath an umbrella. Pictures of waves and sailboats, shells and crabs, the boardwalk and pier, would all make for a great souvenir.
“My sister would like a coloring book,” Randy said.
“How old is she?” asked Sophie.
“Four,” Randy told her. “She spends the week with a babysitter.” He frowned slightly. “A few nights, too, depending on how late my dad works. I see her on weekends.”
“Once you buy your sunglasses, maybe you could work an extra hour and get her a coloring book,” Sophie suggested. “Maybe even buy her a T-shirt.”
Randy narrowed his gaze on her. “Don’t try and tie me to the store for the summer,” he said.
Sophie held up her hands, her palms out. “You’re a free man once I ring up your sale for West Coast Blue.”
“That’s how I want it,” the boy said. “Now what?” He’d finished putting the coloring books and crayons on the rack and was ready to move on.
“It’s a slow day.” Jen came to stand beside them. “We clean when we have the opportunity.” She handed Randy glass cleaner and a cloth. “Six mirrors. Don’t leave any streaks.”
He didn’t. Sophie stood off to the side, straightening a circular rack of shirts, watching Randy as he worked. The kid was conscientious. No longer influenced by his friends, he did a good job. He went over each mirror twice until the glass shone. Afterward, he and Dune did odd jobs for Jenna in the storeroom. Sophie remained on the floor, assisting a few customers.
Dune strode from the storeroom, walked over to her and said, “Four o’clock. No Mac.” He strolled away, looking smug and superior.
Mac still had an hour to make an appearance.
She willed him to show.
“Four-thirty.” Dune made a second pass by her.
She kept busy, sorting the latest shipment of belly chains and charm bracelets.
Dune was a clock watcher, annoyingly so. He tapped his watch the next time he walked by her. “Four-forty.”
She glared at him.
He grinned back. “Not nice, Sophie,” he said. “Don’t be a poor loser.”
She hadn’t lost yet. But time wasn’t waiting for Mac. Each passing minute favored Dune. Her watch read four-fifty now.
It was five till five when Randy came to her and nudged her arm. She was in a dressing room collecting T-shirts and board shorts that had been tried on, but discarded.
He looked very serious. The boy nodded toward the counter. “A shoplifter,” he warned Sophie.
Her heart skipped a beat. Surely not two thefts in one day. She dropped the clothes and turned quickly. The man was easy to spot. He wore a black hoodie, sunglasses, and dark gray board shorts. He was barefoot. Not much of a disguise for sneaking into the shop.
Mac James. She was incredibly glad to see him.
His appearance sealed her win.
Winning made her smile. She wanted to jump for joy, to pump her arm and cheer. She tamped down her excitement. Mac looked awful. He hadn’t shaved and his stubble was dark against his ashen skin. His lower lip was cut and swollen. Jenna had bitten him hard. Mac wouldn’t be kissing her or anyone anytime soon. He’d learned his lesson.
“That’s Mac, Dune’s volleyball partner,” she told Randy. “He’s not a thief.”
“Then why’s he slinking around?”
Sophie knew why—Mac wanted to see Jenna. Yet once he’d entered her shop, he’d gotten cold feet. He wasn’t certain how to approach her. It was hard for a six-foot-four man to hide among the circular racks. He stood out even with his head down and shoulders slumped.
“It’s time to lock up,” Jenna called out as she walked to the front of the store. Keys jingled in her hand. “You can all leave. I’m going to stay a few extra minutes and dress the mannequins.”
She was nearly to the door when she caught sight of Mac. Her steps slowed and anger heated her cheeks. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I was looking for Dune,” Mac said sullenly. “I have a message from his grandfather.”
“You can leave it with me.”
“It’s private.”
“Dune’s on the loading dock, shooting foam packing peanuts into the Dumpster,” Jen said. “You can wait for him on the boardwalk.”
“It looks like rain.”
Sophie glanced out the window and saw it was sunny. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. She didn’t contradict him, however. She’d won the bet. She couldn’t wait to see Dune’s face.
How much celebration was appropriate? she wondered. Should she smile, do a happy dance? Good sportsmanship was important to her. She went with a grin.
Dune’s expression was priceless. He saw Mac and his eyes narrowed; his jaw set. “What’s up?” he asked rather sharply.
“He’s delivering a message from Frank,” Jenna said.
Dune raised an eyebrow. “And the message is?”
“He wants you to pick up a dozen wheat bagels on your way home.”
“My grandfather doesn’t eat bagels, only white bread.”
Mac shrugged. “Don’t kill the messenger. Maybe he needs more fiber.”
Dune ran one hand down his face, muttered, “Unbelievable.”
Surprising yet plausible, thought Sophie. Frank hadn’t sent Mac. He’d come on his own. He needed a reason to see Jen and had used Dune’s grandfather as an excuse.
Sophie’s smile widened and Dune’s frown deepened.
“I’m outta here.” Randy eased by Sophie. He surprised everyone by sticking his hands in his pockets and turning them inside out. “Clean,” he said.
Sophie waved. “See you tomorrow.”
The boy glanced at the display of sunglasses. “Fifteen hours to go.” And he was gone.
“I’m leaving, too,” said Sophie.
“I’m right behind you.” Dune was so close she felt the heat of his body. Lime, sunshine, and man followed her out the door.
“Winner,” she said once they were on the boardwalk. She then crooked her finger and led him down the boardwalk to The Dairy Godmother.
A homemade ice cream sandwich was her prize.
“Care to make another wager?” she asked after they’d placed their order. She chose strawberry ice cream between the chocolate cake bars. Dune went with vanilla.
He looked down on her. “Go again? Your win was a fluke.”
“Chicken.” A win was a win. She felt daring and bold.
“Feeling pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Mac used bagels as an excuse to see Jen.”
“He’s not thinking straight,” said Dune. “That was his hangover talking.”
A young girl behind the counter laid their ice cream sandwiches on two plates and passed them to Dune. They located a café table at the back of the store. Once seated, Sophie took a small bite of her ice cream sandwich and savored the taste. “The next time we see Mac and Jenna they’ll be on a date,” she predicted.
He blew her off. “Not a chance.”
“Then wager.”
“One win and you’ve turned gambler.”
Mac hadn’t been very imaginative with his bagel story, but it had gotten him in the shop. Sophie believed he liked Jen and truly wanted to see her. Until he recognized that fact, he would strategize his way into Jen’s heart.
Dune finished his ice cream sandwich. He leaned back on the café chair and stretched out his legs beneath the table. He trapped her knees and the brief pressure made her shiver. She was so distracted by his touch, she couldn’t finish her ice cream sandwich, which was fine by Dune. He easily managed the last two bites.
“Any plans for tonight?” he asked her, lightly bumping her knees a second time.
She wished she did. She’d love to sound interesting and fun with places to go and people to see. Instead, she shook her head. “Jenna mentioned Twilight Bazaar.”
Dune was aware of the event. “There will be food and seasonal items and lots of Christmas crafts in May. My elementary school once rented a table to display the ceramics from our art classes. I made a dozen clay giraffes, all with crooked necks.”
She envisioned a tall boy with long fingers bending over a table, molding and shaping a lump of clay. “How did they sell?” she asked.
“My giraffes sold second to Zane’s monkeys,” he told her. “Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil, See No Evil drew everyone’s attention. Parents placed orders when the trio sold out. Zane spent a summer making monkeys.”
“He’s younger than you?”
“By a year,” he said. “He cramped my ass all through school. He was an aggressive, goal-oriented kid, always trying to top me in grades, sports, and dating. He couldn’t, however, catch me in height. I was six feet when I entered high school and grew another six inches before I graduated. He was forced to look up to me then.”
“I was the same height in middle school as I am now,” she said ruefully.
“Five-foot-two works for you.”
“I’ll reach new heights when I walk on stilts.”
“Still out to break a leg?” He looked concerned.
“Still out for adventure.”
He nodded halfheartedly before making her an offer. “I want to teach you to swim.”
His suggestion was more frightening to her than walking on stilts. Her heart raced and the ice cream sandwich she’d eaten settled heavily in her stomach. “Thanks, but no thanks. Water scares me.”
He rested his elbows on the table, steepled his fingers. “Why are you so afraid?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Inborn fear, I guess. Why are people afraid of bugs, thunderstorms, clowns, sharks, and the dark? There are kids who won’t go to bed until their parents check the closets and under their bed for monsters.”
“Train whistles freaked me out as a kid.”
“Car horns made me tremble.”
He reached across the table and took her hands in his. His palms were warm and callused. He rubbed his thumb over the pulse point in her wrist. “I don’t want you to be afraid of anything,” he said. “You’re stronger than you think. You survived the crowd at the Sneaker Ball. You took on Zane when you thought he was a troublemaker, then later tracked down Randy when he stole from Three Shirts.”
“It came down to principle,” she said softly. “I was defending people I care about. There’s a big difference between standing up for a friend and standing in deep water.”
“I’m a strong swimmer, Sophie,” he said. “I wouldn’t let you drown. Our first lesson: sitting on the side of your pool, dangling our feet in the water, and drinking sun tea.”
She bit down on her bottom lip. “We’d sit at the shallow end?”
“Right next to the handrail by the steps.”
She trusted Dune. “I’ll give it some serious thought,” she promised.
He nodded, seemed satisfied. “What about the bazaar?” he asked her next.
“What about it?” Was he asking her out? She was too inexperienced to be certain.
“It could be fun if you can handle the crowd.”
“I made it through the Sneaker Ball.”
“That you did.”
He pushed to his feet and pulled her up beside him. He continued to hold her hand. People now crowded the ice cream parlor. Dune was tall, popular, and had a way of clearing a path. She followed close behind him.
Once outside, they walked down the boardwalk. It was the dinner hour and tourists sought hot dogs, pizza, nachos, and popcorn from the vendors. They’d take their food back to the beach and have a picnic.
Her eyes widened as they passed Three Shirts. She glanced in the storefront window and swore she saw Mac and Jenna off to the side, standing close and butting heads.
“Something wrong?” Dune asked when she slowed.
“Everything’s fine.” She suddenly had an advantage for her second win. She kept that secret to herself.
She cast a fleeting look over her shoulder. Mac and Jen were definitely arguing. She poked him in the chest and he grabbed her wrist. They scowled at each other.
Passion, Sophie thought, smiling to herself. Maybe they’d kiss and make up after their argument.
Sophie hoped Jen wouldn’t bite Mac’s lip tonight.