“We can wait for you. Actually, I’ll come with you.” No way was Sophie going to stay here alone with Spencer. That would be far too dangerous for her heart.
But Vi waved her away. “No. Go ahead. Otherwise we’ll get stuck behind all these people.” She pointed to the crowd that was starting to gather behind them. “Seriously, I’ll be right back.”
“Fine.” Spencer shrugged and dropped his ball on the first green.
Sophie pressed down the welling panic as Vi walked away. If she didn’t know better, she’d think her friend shot her a parting grin.
“Your stroke.” Spencer’s voice from behind made her jump.
Get it together.
She dropped her ball onto the artificial grass and surveyed the obstacles. There was a mini construction gate, complete with a “Caution” sign, about halfway down the course. She had to grimace at the irony.
“A little to the left.” Spencer crouched at the other end of the green, studying the angle of her ball.
She shifted automatically, realigning her shot.
“Little more.”
She shifted again.
“Just a tad more.”
Sophie huffed and whacked the ball without moving again.
It sped toward the caution sign and hit it with a sharp thwack, ricocheting off and coming to a stop an inch from where it had started.
To his credit, Spencer didn’t say anything.
He just tapped his ball into the hole and then waited silently as Sophie took three more strokes to get past the gate.
“Six,” she said as the ball at last dropped into the hole.
“Not bad.” Spencer’s politeness irked her. Once upon a time, he’d have teased her for her lack of coordination, made fun of her impatience. As much as she’d always pretended to hate the teasing, she’d take it any day over this stiff formality.
She bent to pick up her ball, then jogged to catch up with Spencer, who was already halfway to the next hole. Vi had better get back soon. The two of them obviously couldn’t handle being alone together much longer.
Thankfully, Vi reappeared just then. “Sorry about that. Ariana is having car trouble, so I told her I’d go pick her up.”
Relief and disappointment washed over Sophie in equal measure. This might be the last time she ever saw Spencer, and she wasn’t ready to say goodbye. And yet, spending more time together was clearly going to be unbearable.
She picked up the ball she’d been about to putt. “Let’s go.”
But Vi shook her head. “No, no. You two keep playing. I’ll go get Ari.”
“But Vi—”
But Vi had already done a quick pirouette and was bustling toward the exit. “We already paid,” she called over her shoulder. “And you guys already started. Just keep going.”
She disappeared into the crowd swarming outside the clubhouse. A second later, Sophie’s eyes tracked her as she emerged on the other side of the building and practically ran through the parking lot to her car.
Behind her Spencer let out an exasperated laugh. “Classic Violet.”
“What?” Sophie turned her gaze to him.
His brows were drawn low over his eyes, but the ghost of a smile hovered on his lips. “Remember the first time I asked you out?”
Of course she remembered.
They’d been at the mini golf course near campus, the three of them, and Vi had left to pick up Cade, who’d run out of gas and—
Oh.
“You don’t really think she’d . . .”
But it didn’t take his emphatic nod to tell her what she already knew. Of course she would. Just like she had that first time. She hadn’t admitted until a year later that Cade hadn’t run out of gas—that he was actually waiting for her down the block.
“She seems to like to play bad romantic comedy with our lives.” Spencer twirled his golf club in his hands, and Sophie couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. At least he was talking to her like a friend again. Not like the cold stranger who’d been filling in for him since he said goodbye at Nana’s funeral yesterday.
But Vi’s matchmaking still didn’t make sense. “Why, though? I mean, it seemed like she and Emma are friends.”
Spencer’s eyebrows dropped into a V, and his forehead wrinkled. “They are. What does that have to do with anything?”
She hesitated. Maybe it’d hit a nerve, hearing his old girlfriend ask about his new one. “Well, I mean—”
“Excuse me?” A teen from the large group behind them cut in. “Are you going to play?”
“Why don’t you putt through?” Spencer offered, stepping off the green and grabbing Sophie’s elbow to tug her to the side with him. Now, more than ever, she had to ignore the jolt his touch sent through her.
“You were saying?” Spencer watched the group of teens, but his comment was definitely directed to her.
He was really going to make her say it.
Fine.
She kept her gaze directed at the teens, too. One of the boys was talking earnestly to a girl, who moved in closer, her eyes never leaving his face. Had that been them once?
“Well, I just think it’d be weird for Vi to recreate our setup when she likes Emma, and you two are clearly—” Did she really have to say the rest?
But Spencer was watching her now, his forehead even more creased. “Are clearly what?”
“Are clearly happy together.” And in love. But she couldn’t say that part.
She twisted her hands together, picking out the spots where her fingers interlocked.
Spencer’s abrupt laugh made her head jerk up. “I guess we’re as happy as two friends can be. But we’re not together.”
The pressure on Sophie’s chest eased, but Spencer’s look grew darker. “Of course, that doesn’t excuse Vi for trying to set us up when you have a boyfriend.”
Sophie stopped him with a hand on his arm. Suddenly it seemed important to set the record straight. “Chase isn’t my boyfriend. He’s a colleague.”
Spencer’s jaw relaxed.
But she wanted to be completely honest with him. “We did date a few times—”
Under her hand, Spencer’s arm muscles went taut.
“But—” She forced herself to meet his eyes. “He wasn’t right for me. I told him it was over when he was here.”
“Yeah.” Spencer shuffled away, and she let her hand fall to her side. “I hear women hate those good-looking, wealthy types.”
“They may make good business partners, Spencer. But not—” She pushed the words out in a rush. “But not good life partners.”
Spencer’s eyes locked on hers. She could read the question in them. What kind of man would make a good life partner?
You.
But she didn’t have a right to tell him that. She’d given up that right when she walked out on him.
The silence stretched between them, but neither looked away. “Soph—” Spencer’s voice was quiet, tender.
“You guys can play now.”
Sophie jumped, and Spencer’s eyes flicked from hers to the kid who had interrupted them.
“Uh, we’re done, so . . .” The kid scurried away at Spencer’s scowl.
Spencer ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up on one side. A second ago, Sophie wouldn’t have hesitated to smooth it. But now—
Now the spell had been broken.
And it was probably for the best.
“Should we golf?” Spencer gestured to the green, and Sophie shrugged. Vi had already paid for it. And she and Ariana should be here any minute.
Surely she could guard her heart until then.
Chapter 17
“Eight.” Spencer smirked as he jotted the number on Sophie’s scorecard, and she shoved his shoulder playfully. Dark had fallen twenty minutes ago, and with it, everything that stood between them seemed to have fallen away as well. They were acting like the teens in front of them, trading teasing barbs and the occasional good-natured swat. It was like, while they were here a
t Sylvester’s, the rest of the world, the rest of time, didn’t exist. Life was simple, as it had been once. Neither of them had other responsibilities, other lives to get back to. All they had to worry about was this moment.
“Last one.” Spencer led the way to the final hole, with the waterfall it was almost impossible to putt through. But going around took twice as many putts on a good day.
“Already?” The surprise in Sophie’s voice delighted him. “I wonder what ever happened to Vi and Ariana.”
Spencer gaped at her. He’d been having so much fun he’d forgotten that Violet and Ariana were supposed to join them. Hopefully they were okay.
But Sophie had pulled out her phone and was laughing.
“What?”
“Let’s just say you were right. Definitely a setup.” She passed him the phone, which was open to a text from Violet.
Have fun! Below that was a picture of Violet and Ariana waving—from Violet’s kitchen.
“Those stinkers.” He’d wanted to wring Violet’s neck when she’d first pulled her disappearing act, but now he was ready to pick her up and twirl her around to thank her.
He passed the phone back to Sophie. “So how do you want to play this?”
Sophie studied him, apparently weighing his meaning. Finally, she shook her head. “You first.” She gestured to the hole.
Okay. He could go along with that. Pretend there hadn’t been more than the game behind his words.
He dropped his ball to the green and nudged it into position with his toe. He lined up his shot, and the ball banked off the wall, in perfect position to go around the waterfall on his next shot.
He gave a mock bow, but Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Playing it safe?”
“Sometimes that’s the best way to get to your goal.” Something it had taken him a long time to learn.
He took his next two shots, then sunk the ball in the hole on the fourth. He waited as Sophie lined up her shot. Her hair hung in her face, and she paused to grab a rubber band off her wrist and pull it into a ponytail. The casual hair, combined with the pink shirt, slim jeans, and tennis shoes, made her look like a softer version of herself, more open. More kissable.
The thought popped into his head, and once it was there, he couldn’t erase it.
Didn’t want to, really.
Sophie lifted her eyes at that moment and caught him staring at her. He should look away, pretend he hadn’t been watching her. But he didn’t.
She gave him a slow smile, and he was pretty sure his heart stopped for a beat.
She tucked a loose hair behind her ear, then dropped her head, swung the putter, and gave the ball a sound whack.
“And sometimes you have to take a risk.” Her eyes followed the ball as it sailed toward the waterfall. It hit the wall of spray with a thud, and Sophie ran to his side to watch as it sailed through the waterfall. The momentum of the spin pulled it toward the hole.
Sophie clutched his arm. “Keep going. Keep going.” She bounced on her toes.
With a clatter, the ball dropped into the hole.
“Yes!” Before he could react, she had thrown her arms around him.
All the air whooshed out of him in surprise, but his arms rose to her back of their own accord.
She felt so good.
He could get used to this again. He could—
No you can’t.
Gently, he let go.
After a second, Sophie seemed to come to her senses and let go, too.
“Sorry.” But her cheeks were flushed an adorable pink, and her eyes held a light he hadn’t seen the whole time she was home. “That was fun.”
He nodded as he led the way to the clubhouse. It had been fun, and he hated that it was over. He wanted to live in this time warp forever. But that wasn’t how life worked.
Inside, they placed their clubs on the counter and turned to leave, but the clerk stopped them. “Don’t you want to play the second round your friend paid for?”
Spencer’s eyes met Sophie’s, and he was pretty sure his own face mirrored the grin on hers. Maybe, just for tonight, they could stay in this time bubble.
An hour later, Spencer’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. A small price to pay for such a fantastic evening.
He hadn’t had such a good time since—
Well, since he and Sophie had been together.
“I really think I improved my score that time.” Sophie bent to grab her ball out of the final cup. Spencer snorted, and she stood to elbow him. “Except for the last hole.”
He snorted again. It’d taken her fifteen strokes on the final hole this time. The ball had bounced off the waterfall on the first fourteen attempts, but she’d insisted it would be more satisfying to go through the obstacle than to go around it. Spencer had to give her credit for that.
But not for her final score. He finished tallying. “So, your first round, you had one hundred eight. And this round . . .” He left a dramatic pause, enjoying the anticipation in her eyes too much. “One hundred thirty-six.”
The laugh that burst out of her was the most delicious sound he’d ever heard.
“Oh, yeah, Mr. Showoff? And what was your score?”
“Fifty-one,” he deadpanned.
She plucked the scorecard out of his hand and reviewed it. “Well, then it looks like you get to buy me ice cream.”
He snorted again. But any excuse to spend more time with her was fine by him.
They dropped their equipment off, and he opened his truck door for her, still caught in the time trap of mini golf. How many times had he held a door for her, ushered her into his truck, taken her for ice cream?
The drive was quiet. But it wasn’t the uncomfortable silence of earlier. It was the kind of pleasant quiet that flowed from knowing a person so well there was no need for words.
He had to park several blocks from the Chocolate Chicken. That’s what happened when it was the only place on the peninsula open after ten. He jumped out of the truck and crossed to open her door. A sense of déjà vu overtook him as they walked next to each other. The only difference was they weren’t holding hands this time. He resisted the urge.
Inside, Sophie leaned toward him. “I think we might be the old folks here.”
Spencer surveyed the shop. Sure enough, it overflowed with young people in groups and couples. They appeared to be the oldest ones in the place. Apparently time had marched on after all. The room was warm and bright, the buzz of voices loud. “Want to take this to the gazebo?” Spencer passed her the double scoop of triple chocolate in a waffle cone.
Sophie nodded as she took her first lick. Spencer had eaten ice cream with her so many times before that he knew to watch for it—the way her eyes closed as she savored the first taste.
She gave him a sheepish grin as she opened her eyes again, then led the way to the door.
A cool breeze blew in off the lake as they made their way to the public gardens on the hillside above the marina.
A gust played with a strand of hair that had come loose from Sophie’s ponytail, sweeping it across her face—and into her ice cream. She groaned.
“Just a sec.” They’d passed his truck half a block ago, and Spencer jogged back to it. He grabbed a stack of napkins from the glove box, then, in a flash of inspiration, reached into the backseat to grab the blanket he always kept for emergencies.
A second later, he was at Sophie’s side.
“You think of everything.” She took the napkin he held out to her and wiped at the chocolate streak in her hair.
“You missed a little.” Spencer pointed to the ice cream dripping off a strand of hair, careful not to get too close. Sophie swiped toward the spot with her napkin.
“That wasn’t even close.” He couldn’t help the laugh.
“Well, then help me.” Sophie thrust the napkin at him.
He swallowed, the laughter dying on his lips. To help her, he’d have to touch her, and if he touched her—
His pulse jumped at the though
t.
“It’s right”—he tried to do a more accurate job of pointing—“there.”
But Sophie shook the napkin at him. He licked his suddenly too-dry lips and took it, passing her his ice cream.
The moment his hand fell on her silky hair, a flood of memories overtook him. Sitting on the park bench, letting her teach him to braid her hair. Absently combing through it with his fingers as they watched a movie. Sliding his hands into it as he kissed her.
His eyes darted to her lips, glistening with a faint trace of ice cream. He yanked his gaze back to her hair and concentrated on wiping at the sticky ice cream coating the strands.
“There.” He forced himself to lower his hands. To take his ice cream. To act as if his heart hadn’t just jumped out of his chest and thrown itself to the ground at her feet, ready for her to cradle it or stomp on it, as she pleased.
They strolled onto the path that led through the public garden toward the gazebo. Old-fashioned street lamps that could be straight out of a Dickens novel lined the path, casting patches of light and shadow on the tulips that had closed their petals for the night. The damp scent of the lake carried on the wind.
Next to him, Sophie sighed. “I didn’t realize how much I missed this place.”
“Yeah?” Her words hooked right into his heart, tugging at it.
They stepped into the gazebo and settled on a bench facing the water. He spread the blanket across both their laps. Sophie burrowed into it, pulling the worn fabric to her shoulders.
“I miss the gazebo. The ice cream. The lake.” She hesitated, eyes directed toward the water. “The people.”
He froze. What people?
But he didn’t have the courage to ask.
Besides—
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you have the same lake in Chicago.”
Her eyes slid to him, and she stiffened.
“Come on, Soph, someone had to bring it up.”
What are you doing to me here? his heart screamed. If you hadn’t brought it up—
Not Until Forever (Hope Springs Book 1) Page 11