Jackie sighed. “Well, maybe things will change soon.” she turned sad blue eyes towards Sophie, her smile heartbreaking. “You’re such a sweet girl. I wish Spencer had met a nice girl like you instead of … her!” The way she spat her Sophie nearly winced. “I would rip the picture to pieces if I could, but … doesn’t Spencer look so handsome?”
“May I?” At Jackie’s nod, Sophie carefully removed the picture from the tiny heart-shaped triangles and folded it in half, separating Spencer from the cow that hurt him. Just as gingerly, she replaced the picture Spencer side up.
Jackie stared at it for several long minutes, her face bemused. Then she broke into a fit of giggles. “Why hadn’t I thought of that?” She sobered slightly, still beaming. “Now if I could just erase her as easily from Spencer’s mind.”
“Does he miss her still?” It was a stupid question. Of course he still missed her. He’d gone all emo for her. It took a special kind of girl to break a guy like that.
“I think sometimes. I mean, they were best friends since kindergarten. It was never a surprise when they started dating in ninth grade.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t know what happened. She left Spencer for Jamie, which started—”
“Wait, Jamie? Spencer’s brother, Jamie?” Sophie exclaimed, certain she’d heard wrong.
Jackie rubbed the tips of her fingers over her brow as if trying to scrub out a difficult crease. “I don’t know the full story. Spencer refuses to tell me. But I think it was going on for a while behind his back before he caught them.”
“That bitch!” The profanity burst out before Sophie could stifle it and immediately smacked a hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry!”
Jackie laughed. “Don’t be! I agree.” She flipped the photo album to the next page.
“Who’s that?” Sophie pointed to a blond boy doubled over, howling with laughter as a pretty brunette loomed over him, tickling him.
Jackie didn’t speak. She stared at the picture for so long that Sophie thought she’d fallen asleep with her eyes open. Then, she turned the page without answering Sophie’s question.
“Oh this one’s my favorite!” Jackie exclaimed, pointing to a picture of the same blond boy Sophie was quickly recognizing as Spencer. “He’s five or six here.”
Sophie leaned in to get a better look. He was standing on the kitchen table, his tiny hips jutting left, his arms pointing right.
She laughed. “What is he doing?”
Jackie giggled. “The hula! We were watching a TV show where they showed you how to hula so Spencer jumps on the table and starts wiggling his little hips. It was adorable! Oh my goodness, Spencer would kill me if he ever found out I was showing you these!”
“Especially the one of him in the tub, making bubbles.”
“Oh my, yes! He would be furious!”
Sophie laughed harder. Jackie joined her. Neither heard the front door open or saw the dark figure that appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“Mom?”
Jackie jumped. Her hand flew to her chest. “Spencer!” She slammed the album closed and crossed her arms over the top as if it could somehow make it disappear. “What are you doing here?”
His gray eyes swept from his mother to Sophie then back. “Uh, I kinda live here. What are you doing?”
It was the scowl of suspicion on his face, the uncertainty, which caused Sophie to burst out laughing, doubling over until there were tears streaming down her face. Next to her Jackie broke into a fit of giggles as well.
“Did I miss something?” Spencer said slowly, taking a cautious step into the room. His gaze dropped to the albums and widened. “Mom!” The indignation in his voice only made them laugh harder. “Not cool!”
Getting unsteadily to her feet, Sophie leaned heavily on the back of her chair as she peered down at Jackie. “I better go. Thank you!”
Jackie shook her head. “You’re such a sweet girl. Thank you for coming.” She turned to Spencer. “Can you walk her home please, Spencer? I kept her too long and it’s dark out.”
All humor washed out of her slowly as she watched Spencer debate his options, seeing the weight fall on the side urging him to bolt. He seemed to realize the same thing she did—this would be the first time they’d be alone since the party—because he glanced at her a moment too long before accepting the punishment and motioning with his head towards the door. With a wave goodbye to Jackie, Sophie followed him outside into the cool air.
“You don’t have to walk me the whole way,” she said at the end of his walkway. “I only live next door.”
“It’s fine.”
Careful not to get caught, she stole a peek at the solemn figure walking next to her. His hands were lost in the pockets of his hoodie, his shoulders hunched, but he looked beautiful with his pale complexion contrasting against the night. His pale hair seemed to glow, a cap of corn silk. The hoop in his ear glinted as they passed beneath a street lamp. How the hell could anyone leave him? How could Aimee break such a long standing friendship? Why with his brother of all people? It wasn’t right. It made her want to slam her fist into the other girl’s face. It infuriated her, enraged her. She wanted to grab him, stop him and tell him … what? She was sorry?
At her front porch, Spencer stopped. He turned to her. The soft light from the porch light flickered in his eyes and bathed his face in a pale glow. She had to fight the temptation to reach out and comb his hair off his brow the way it had been in the picture. Something told her he wouldn’t appreciate that.
“Thanks,” she murmured. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He turned to leave. “Take it easy, Blondie.”
“Spencer!” she called before she could stop herself, before he got too far.
He paused and glanced back.
“Are you going Friday? To Brian’s cabin,” she elaborated when he simply stared at her.
His shoulders jerked. “I’m thinking about it. Why?”
Having not anticipated his question, Sophie fumbled a moment for an explanation and only managing a weak shrug. “Just asking.”
“I bet you won’t miss it,” he decided with a hint of something sharp in his tone. “Not since Fisher’ll be there.”
Sophie frowned. “Brian and I are friends.”
He snorted, taking several steps backwards. “Not for lack of trying on your part.” Not giving her a single chance to respond, he whipped around on his heels and marched back towards his house.
Chapter Ten
By Friday, the party at the cabin was all Lauren could talk about. Sophie was ready to stab herself in the ear with a pencil to shut it out. The fact that she couldn’t go had a lot to do with the dark cloud hovering over her head, not that Lauren seemed to notice in her excitement. For the dark haired beauty, it was another opportunity to meet guys and keep the crowd at their table during lunch. She tried relentlessly to persuade Sophie to ditch her cleaning duties, even came up with schemes to help her escape, but Sophie wasn’t ready for another party. She didn’t want a repeat of what happened at Roy’s house. She didn’t want to see Spencer get fondled by Maggie Chow, who had nothing else to talk about all lunch either, and when she wasn’t talking about all the quiet places she and Spencer could hole up in, she was groping him at the table. No. Sophie was definitely not interested in going.
“Let’s get rid of all those paint cans,” her mother said, supervising the cleanup of the garage by pointing out all the things Sophie had to do. “Put the empty ones in a box and set it by the curb. Let’s also break down these boxes and move all of these over there.”
Sophie grumbled under her breath. She’d been doing most of the work for the past four hours while her mother wandered about, taking note of this, measuring that, or nudging things with her foot to see if it was worth keeping. When the phone rang inside and her mother ran to answer it, Sophie dropped down on a stack of milk crates, closed her eyes and imagined herself at the cabin with everyone else. With Spencer in all those quiet places Maggie had descri
bed in vivid detail. The last fact irked her more than not going did. It wouldn’t have bothered her half as much if Spencer hadn’t gone. Images of him sitting cuddled up to Maggie in front of the fire had her blood boiling nearly as much as it did at the thought of them kissing.
An empty box of garbage bags took the abuse of her foot when she kicked it across the room. It struck the wall and cluttered to the floor.
“Sophia!” Her mother appeared in the doorway, phone cradled between her ear and shoulder. “Can you please take all that garbage to the curb? Now!”
Grumbling, Sophie rose to her aching feet. She gathered the boxes and started down the driveway to the mountain of junk already accumulating there. She dropped the lot on the strip of grass, next to an old heater her mother had deemed unworthy and started back when a bright red Camaro turned into the driveway next door, parking just behind Jackie’s silver Neon. The engine was shut off and the doors swung open. From the driver’s side, a man emerged, tall, broad, gorgeous, with a head full of wavy brown hair and dark shades covering a rugged face. He wore a jacket in buttery brown leather and jeans. He yanked open the back door, slamming his closed.
Suzy hopped out, dragging a giant red and black backpack with her. She dusted her plaid skirt and hoisted her bag onto her back over a black blazer and white dress shirt.
Leaving her to follow, the man walked around the hood of the car as the passenger’s side opened and another figure emerged.
At first glance, all Sophie saw was a waterfall of shimmering gold spilling in a glossy sheet down a slender back. Round, purple glasses covered the woman’s face as she turned to the man. She wore a beautiful beige jacket with a slimming belt and skin-tight jeans. She daintily flipped a pin-straight strand of blonde hair off her shoulder and sighed.
“He better be home,” she muttered to the man, loud enough that Sophie had no problem hearing.
The man spoke softly, slipping an arm around her waist and guiding her and Suzy towards the house. Part of the way there, the front door flew open and Spencer jogged down the front steps, throwing his jacket on. He hadn’t noticed the couple until he glanced up and froze on the spot. So elated that he hadn’t gone to the cabin, Sophie narrowly missed the color that drained from his face.
“What are you doing here?” he snarled at the pair.
“Dropping Suzy off,” the man said calmly. “Dad got wrapped up at work.”
“Suzy needs two people to bring her?” Spencer glanced at his sister. “Did you get elected for president when I wasn’t looking?”
Suzy snorted. “Not yet, but I still have a few years to go.” Shouldering her bag higher, she jogged past Spencer and disappeared into the house.
“I don’t want to be here!” the girl said, folding her arms. “But I want my stuff back!”
Spencer snorted. “What stuff?”
“All the things I left behind when we broke up.”
“You mean when you cheated on me with my brother?”
The girl sniffed, tipping her chin up a notch. “How long are you going to play that tired old song, Spencer? It was two years ago. Get over it.”
A muscle coiled in Spencer’s cheek. “I don’t have anything of yours. If you were stupid enough to leave something behind, it’s in the garbage.”
The girl’s arms dropped to her sides, her hands balling into fists. “You threw out my Gucci bag and belt?”
Spencer shrugged, lips twisting into a humorless smirk. “Should have thought to grab them while you were stumbling out of my brother’s bed.”
With a snarl more animal than human, the girl lunged, fingers bent into claws. She moved fast. Sophie barely had time to call out and the girl was on Spencer. Jamie was quicker. He hooked one arm around his girlfriend’s middle and yanked her back before those lethal talons could sink into Spencer’s face.
“Aims, calm down,” he said softly.
“Those cost me a fortune!” she shrieked, struggling against the hold. “How am I going to replace them now?”
Stuffing his hands inside his pockets, Spencer shrugged. “Not my problem.”
“Don’t you dare walk away from me!” Aimee shrilled when Spencer turned away. She bit out a cold, hard laugh when he actually stopped. “Typical Spencer, still a pathetic doormat. Will you roll over if I—”
“Enough!” Jamie shook his girlfriend. “What is wrong with you?
“He’s pathetic!” Aimee laughed, waving a hand in Spencer’s direction. “A sick little lapdog begging for attention.”
“He’s still my brother!”
Spencer turned slowly, eyes chips of hard ice. “Don’t play the brother card now, Jamie.” He turned his attention to Aimee. “I was never a lapdog. I just loved you enough to do whatever it took to make you happy. There’s a difference.”
Aimee snorted, ripping off her shades to reveal beautiful sea-foam green eyes. “You’re a doormat! No girl wants that. Can you blame me for wanting better?”
A ball of emotion wedged in Sophie’s esophagus. Tears burned behind her eyes, generated from fury rather than sadness. Her hands clenched at her sides, begging to be pounded into Aimee’s pretty face. She was moving before she could stop herself. Her hands tore out the elastic containing her mess of hair. She shook out the strands, smoothed a hand down her front, ignoring the fact that she was severely underdressed in her jeans and t-shirt.
“Spencer!” She smiled brightly when his head shot up in her direction. “Sorry I’m late!”
Before he could utter a word, before he could react, before she could chicken out, before she could second guess her actions or the consequences, she threw herself into his arms and pressed her lips to his.
The moment crackled like brittle leaves, it sizzled like livewires. It hummed and hissed and pulsed with a heat that seemed to rise from all around them. For a full heartbeat, there was nothing but the silence, the surprise in his wide eyes and the panic that welled up inside her. Then his eyes darkened. His arms came around her, tight vices pressing her into his chest and he returned the kiss. His eyes closed and his fingers were curling and fisting in her hair, holding her captive as he swallowed her whimper. The arm around her waist tightened, immobilizing her so there was no chance of escape.
But Sophie didn’t want escape. Her toes arched off the ground, pushed her into his hard embrace. Her arms looped around his neck as her body settled perfectly against him. Her mouth opened beneath his in invitation. Strands of silk slipped through her fingers as she closed her hand in his hair. The sharp tug elicited a growl from him that made her tingle all the way down to her toes. His heart matched the ferocity and tempo of hers. She could feel it beating against her chest, determined to break through and crawl into her body. She wondered if he could feel how much hers wanted to do the same.
“Ahem!”
The forgotten world outside the dreamy bubble enclosing them seeped through, hooking and drawing them out to face reality and the pair watching them with a mixture of curiosity, fury and annoyance.
Slowly, after a series of slow, steamy pecks as if the taste of her refused to let him go, Spencer drew back. He was watching her when Sophie dared open her eyes. His eyes were pits of liquid fire, glinting silver in the gloomy gray light. The scent of peppermint caressed her swollen lips with every unsteady exhale from him. She prayed her breath smelled as good.
“Hi,” she whispered for lack of anything better.
He was breathing hard. “Hey.”
She swallowed audibly. “I’m sorry I …” Her apology faltered when his fingers lightly brushed her flushed cheek, sending a wave of shivers down the length of her spine, curling her toes.
“Are fashionably late?” he supplied, smiling at her for the first time ever, teeth and eyes and dimples and sparkles, and she forgot everything else. Her own name eluded her as she floundered, a wisp of paper lost in the vast openness of the ocean. Every second thrummed with a tension that barely contained the liquefaction of her knees.
“Yeah.” It cam
e out in a single breathy half moan.
“Uh, hello!” Aimee had her hands pressed into her hips, glasses dangling from one finger.
Embarrassment flooded through Sophie as her actions washed over her. Standing before these two impossibly beautiful people, herself so not even close, she felt more than just one hit to her ego. But she forced a smile, extended her hand.
“Hi! I’m Sophie. I live next door.”
Jamie reached for the hand Aimee ignored. “Jamie,” he said in his baritone voice.
She smiled at him politely, marveling at the rough texture of his hands. She wondered what he did for a living, because he looked like a lawyer and didn’t lawyers have soft baby hands? “It’s nice to meet you.” She slipped her hand free and turned to Aimee who was visibly seething. “You’re … Annie, right?” She deliberately got the name wrong, just to add another splash of fury to the other girl’s face.
“Aimee!” she snarled, looking ready to pop Sophie in the eye with her manicured fist.
Sophie winced. “Sorry.”
Spencer pulled away a notch from Sophie, but kept both arms protectively around her middle. “Mom’s inside,” he told Jamie, ignoring Aimee, which only further infuriated the blonde. “I’m on my way out.”
“Who’s she?” Aimee waved a hand towards Sophie like she was an insignificant piece of garbage.
“She,” Spencer said evenly. “Is Sophie and none of your business.” With an arm still around Sophie, he led her away from the two watching after them.
As soon as they were far enough away, Sophie turned to him, nerves threatening to snap. “I’m sorry!” she blurted. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, but I heard what she said and I was just so—”
“Why?” The single word was wrapped in thick tension.
Her shoulder jerked before she could stop it. “Because I didn’t think you wanted me to punch her. It seemed like a really good idea at the time.”
For a moment, a split second, he almost looked like he was going to smile. His mouth twitched and his eyes danced in the dimming light. Then it was all gone and replaced with a ball of frustration that he seemed to wear a lot when he was around her.
Games of Fire Page 11