Games of Fire

by Airicka Phoenix

  The man was short and skinny with shiny black hair greased to one side and a mustache equally slick and curled at the ends. He had kohl around his brown eyes, making them appear enormous. He wore a black vest over a white dress shirt and a white apron over black pants. His black shoes caught the light from the lamps and glinted. He beamed at them as if they were long lost friends.

  “Spencer!” He stepped straight past Sophie and pulled Spencer into a fierce embrace. He smacked the younger man several times on the back before drawing away just far enough to keep a firm grip on Spencer’s arms. “Look at you!” he said in a heavily French accented voice. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve changed!” The smile dropped into a very theatrical pout. “But it is to be expected. A man is never the same when his heart has been broken.”

  Spencer, looking mildly uncomfortable, smiled a little. “Thanks, Pierre.”

  Pierre patted him lightly on the arms and dropped his hands. “Have you come for our special …?” He trailed off when his eyes finally registered Sophie. They widened, flickered between her and Spencer. Interest sparkled. “And who is this enchanting creature?”

  Sophie blushed and nearly giggled when Pierre dropped into a very extravagant curtsy. He swept her hand up as he rose and brought her knuckles to his lips.

  “I don’t know which enchanting creature you’re referring to, but this is Sophie,” Spencer said, grinning when Sophie glowered at him.

  “Sophie!” Pierre said her name as if whispering the name of a goddess, full of marveling wonder and worship. “You are a sight to behold. I am Pierre, owner and operator of Chateau Pierre. If you ever need anything, do not hesitate to find me.”

  Unsure what she was supposed to say, to do, Sophie smiled. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Inclining his head, Pierre relinquished his grip on her hand and took a step back, his arms open wide. “Come! I will show you to our best table.”

  The moment his back was turned, Sophie elbowed Spencer in the gut for his earlier comment. He doubled over with a grunt, clutching his middle as she smirked and hurried after Pierre.

  “This place is beautiful!” she said, catching up to him. “I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.”

  “It is my pride and joy,” Pierre said with an affectionate sigh.

  They passed a pretty blonde dressed identically to Pierre carting a silver tray. Steam rose from the pizza, filling the air with its succulent scent of roasted vegetables. Sophie fought not to lunge at her and steal the tantalizing dish. Instead she watched as the girl stopped in front of a hut and said, “Knock, knock!” Someone responded from the other side and she pushed open the curtains to reveal the small crowd seated around the table on the other side. She was setting the tray down in the middle when Sophie hurried past.

  They wove their way through the makeshift village, passing the odd waiter or waitress as they served the people huddled within the tents. The entire place was incredibly magical, like walking through some fantasy land. Sophie half expected glittering fairies to be frolicking through the clumps of brush strategically placed throughout the restaurant. It didn’t even feel like she was indoors anymore. The fairy lights strung overhead gave the impression of stars and the atmosphere was so surreal and dream-like. She forgot all about Spencer until he brushed her side, startling her.

  “Do you come here often?” she asked him.

  “Spencer used to work here!” Pierre interrupted before Spencer could answer. “He used to be my favorite worker. The customers loved him!”

  She looked at Spencer for confirmation. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes.

  “What happened?” Sophie asked Pierre.

  The little man shrugged, throwing his hands up into the air in both frustration and bewilderment. “What happens to all the greats! He fell in love and she ruined him.”

  “That’s not exactly—” But both Sophie and Pierre ignored Spencer’s protest.

  “Do you mean Aimee?”

  Pierre snapped narrow eyes in Sophie’s direction. “So you’ve met her?”

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “Briefly today. I wanted to hit her.”

  “Yes!” Pierre exclaimed, coming to an abrupt halt and whipping around. “Yes!” he said again with vigor. “I am a gentleman of course, but had I been a woman, I would have knocked her on her pretty behind.”

  Sophie stifled the urge to laugh. “So you’ve met her as well?”

  Pierre sniffed, flicking a hand dramatically. “She would come around, but never inside. My establishment was never good enough for her.”

  “That’s not—” Again, neither paid Spencer any attention.

  “Well that’s her loss, isn’t it?” Sophie said. “This place is incredible. You might have to throw me out to leave.”

  Pierre beamed, his chest swelling in pride. “I can see why Spencer has brought you when he has never brought another. You are very special.” With a delighted clap of his hands, Pierre snapped on his heels and resumed their walk.

  Sophie turned to Spencer, grinning. “Hear that? He thinks I’m special.”

  Spencer smirked, stowing away his hands inside his pockets. “Oh you’re special all right.” The implication in his tone had her frowning and him snickering as he waved her onward.

  “Jerk,” she mumbled, stalking after Pierre.

  The best table in the house was a set up like all the others, except the curtain around this table was velvet red with gold trim. It poured over the polished, mahogany table in a waterfall of crimson. Gold rope tied back the fabric, revealing the glossy leather bench forming a square U around the table. Six red candles danced and flickered from the center of the table, the flames were contained in a beautiful crystal bowl filled with water. Two lamps stood guard on either side of the booth, casting soft light through the otherwise subtle darkness.

  “Oh wow!” Sophie gasped, feeling suddenly very underdressed.

  “You like it!” It was not a question and her delight reflected off Pierre’s face as he clapped his hands like an excited child.

  “Pierre, I don’t …” Spencer shifted uneasily, tossing uncertain glances at the booth.

  The smile on Pierre’s face dropped. “You don’t like it?”

  “No! I mean, yes! I do, but …” He flicked a glance in Sophie’s direction, then towards the magnificently romantic setup. Sophie glanced as well, trying to determine what his problem was. He exhaled, rolling his eyes heavenwards. He shook his head. “Never mind. It’s fine.”

  Pierre smiled again. “Excellent! Sit and I will have someone come serve you.”

  “What’s the matter?” Sophie asked when they were alone.

  Spencer shook his head, motioning for her to sit.

  “Is this the spot you and Aimee used to sit?” she ventured, slipping into the soft leather.

  A muscle twitched in Spencer’s jaw as he took the place across from her. “You heard Pierre, Aimee never came inside.”

  “Then what’s wrong?” she pressed.

  His mouth opened, then shut. He shook his head. “Nothing. Just forget it.”

  “You don’t like red?” she prodded. “You don’t like leather? You don’t like the view? What is it?”

  He scowled. “That is the opposite of forgetting about it.”

  Sophie shrugged. “You’re the one who went all shifty and edgy about a booth and since I doubt you’ll be initiating any sort of conversation throughout this … whatever this is, I figured why not.” She poked a finger inside the bowl of water and nudged a candle. It floated and bumped into two others, sending them teetering along. “What exactly is this anyway?”

  His heavy exhale muffled the squeak of leather as he slumped back in his seat. The candlelight sparked off the leering skull on the leather band around his wrist as he shoved his fingers through his hair. “Does it matter?”

  It became harder to focus on the ripples in the water when all she wanted to do was look at him, gauge his reactions, but a part of he
r didn’t want to see it. “Kind of. The last thing I ever expected from you is a dinner invitation.”

  He drummed long fingers on the table. “I told you. I wanted to apologize.”

  She couldn’t stop her eyes from lifting to his face this time. “Is that all?”

  His attention was fixed on the hut across from theirs like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Silence thrummed, a steady pulse of pent up hesitation. It swelled with his indecision. Part of her willed her not to expect an answer, but a much larger part of her prayed for it.

  “What else is there?” The words were smothered by the thumb nail he was picking at with his teeth.

  Unwilling to let the matter drop, Sophie shifted forward in her seat. “At Roy’s party, you said—”

  “I know what I said.” His hand dropped into his lap. His gray eyes snapped to her. “I was drunk.”

  She shook her head slowly, refusing to let him play it off so easily. “No you weren’t.”

  His eyes narrowed. “How would you know?”

  Because I was watching you the whole night. She didn’t say it, couldn’t. She had fallen far enough where Spencer Rowth was concerned. She had already given him too much ammunition, too many ways to hurt her. She dropped her gaze to the table instead, following the path of a scar carved into the otherwise smooth surface.

  “I think I want to go home,” she decided, climbing out of the booth. “Thanks for the attempt, but this was clearly a very bad idea. I’m not into the whole head game thing. I don’t like being played like I’m stupid and I really don’t like being made to feel like an idiot. I think it would be better if you just …” She made a staying motion with her hands. “Stayed away, okay? I’ll do the same and …” she trailed off, biting her lip. “Yeah.”

  Without waiting for the stunned expression on his face to wear off, Sophie hurried back the way Pierre had brought them. She dug into her pocket for her phone and dialed Lauren’s number. It rang several times before dropping to voicemail. She hung up without leaving a message. She phoned a cab instead, before realizing she had no idea what address to give.

  “Damn it!” she cussed, hanging up on the female operator.

  “Sophie!” Spencer jogged after her, his hair fluttering over his brow. “Wait!”

  “Where am I?” she demanded.

  He ignored her question. “Please come back.” He gestured in the direction of their table. “Let me start over. I promise this isn’t how I wanted tonight to go.”

  She scoffed, fiddling with her phone, not ready to face him. “Really? Because it’s just like you.”

  “I know!” His hand appeared over the screen of her phone, blocking her from randomly flipping through the pages, giving her no choice but to meet his gaze. “That wasn’t my intention. Just come back and let me start over. Please?”

  Her head warned her to say no. The refusal burned at the back of her throat, climbing up to settle on the tip of her tongue. But one look into his pleading, apologetic eyes and the word dissolved into a resigned, “Fine!” She jabbed him in the chest with her finger. “One BS remark from you and I’m gone.”

  A ghost of a smile haunted his mouth. “Deal.”

  This is a bad idea! She kept telling herself the whole way back to the table. But even as her butt slipped into the booth and Spencer regained his place across from her, she couldn’t make herself walk away. Maybe she was just curious to see what he was up to. Or maybe she wanted to see if there really was a decent person behind that cold mask. Whatever the cause was, it all boiled down to curiosity.

  “So?” she prompted when he said nothing.

  His lips peeled back into a smile. He chuckled. “I can see patience isn’t your strongest suit.”

  She frowned, biting back the threatening twitch in her lips. “I have been patient. You just refuse to answer any of my questions.”

  His head bobbed slowly. “Fair enough.” He sat straighter in his chair, folding his arms on the table while meeting her gaze squarely, and began. “I like red. I like leather even more and the view is amazing from where I’m sitting.” Sophie tried not to squirm when his eyes burned intently into hers. “As for what this is, I have no idea and that’s why I didn’t want this booth.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, a wince twisting his features as he stared down at the table. “I used to be better at this, at explaining myself I mean. I was never afraid of telling a girl how I felt.” He exhaled. Pain reflected off the silver surface of his eyes. “I truthfully have no idea why it’s so hard to stay away from you. I’ve managed to keep away from every girl I’ve come across for two years. It was easy when I simply wasn’t interested. But you …” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I have no idea what happened.”

  Sophie raised an eyebrow. “So you’re telling me you weren’t a jerk to every girl you’ve ever met? What made me so lucky?”

  He raised his head and peered at her through his fringes. “Because the moment I walked into the kitchen and saw you, I knew you would be a problem.”

  “Hey!”

  His hand came up, stilling her outrage. “Let me finish!” He snorted a chuckle when she pressed her lips together in silence, but frowned warningly at him while she folded her arms and sat back. “I haven’t noticed a girl in two years. I pride myself on pretending that females don’t exist. It was easier than going through what I went through with Aimee. It should have been the same with you. I should have been able to avoid you, erase you from my mind, but two seconds and you’ve burrowed into my brain like a splinter, pricking all my nerves and frustrating the hell out of me. If I had a choice, I would have you amputated, because I …” He sucked in a lungful of air, released it sharply. “I don’t trust you.”

  Sophie’s eyes bulged. “Me? How can you not trust me? You don’t know me!”

  He shook his head. “Not you exactly. I don’t trust girls, women … females in general. Every girl I have ever met has lied to me.”

  “You mean Aimee,” she hissed through her teeth, her nails gouging into the skin where she gripped her upper arms.

  He shook his head slowly. “Not just Aimee. What Aimee did was unforgiveable, but she wasn’t the only one.”

  “Okay, so what are you telling me exactly?” She fought hard not to let her voice waver, not to scream in frustration.

  Seconds cracked like lightning through the silence. He said nothing while he examined the hands he’d laid flat on the tabletop. “That I don’t know what this is. I can’t promise you anything.”

  She swallowed back the irrational prickle of tears. “Because you don’t want to?”

  He hesitated before giving a single bob of his head. “Exactly. I can’t go through that again and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that it’s easier to walk away when there are no emotional attachments.”

  The same waitress they’d seen earlier appeared at their table, smiling brightly. Her blonde ponytail swung at her back.

  “Hello! I’m Shannon and I’ll be your waitress for this evening!” Her blue eyes swung from Sophie to Spencer and widened. “Oh my God, Spencer! You look so different! I didn’t recognize you!”

  Spencer smiled at her, really smiled at her, the way he smiled at the kids at school. The way he smiled at everyone but Sophie, like he was genuinely happy to see them.

  “Hey, Shan!”

  “How you been?” she asked.

  Spencer shrugged. “Hanging in there. You? How’s Mike? You guys still together?”

  Shannon nodded, her cheeks pink. “He’s good. Started his first class at the university this fall.”

  “That’s great. Tell him I said hi.”

  “I will!” The girl continued to beam, but caught herself enough to take their drink order and leave behind plastic encased menus.

  Sophie took up hers, but didn’t open it as she glared at Spencer. “Why aren’t you a jerk to everyone else? If all girls are the same and blah, blah, blah?”<
br />
  He peeked at her from over his menu. “Because you are nothing like her, or any other girl.”

  The fiery tickle of outrage burned up her throat. “How the hell would you know that when you never gave me a chance?”

  Something dark and scorching flickered behind his eyes. “Because no other girl has ever made me want to forget all my own rules for them.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Why did you bring me here?” Sophie asked as they split an extra-large, fully loaded pizza.

  Never pausing in the dissection of his slice, Spencer shrugged. “I thought you’d like it.”

  Sophie chewed the bite she took of her slice and swallowed. “Why are you doing that?” she asked as he separated the toppings into messy piles on his plate.

  His nose wrinkled. “I don’t like my food touching other food.”

  She stopped chewing. “Come again?”

  He sighed, raising his head from his task. There were faint touches of pink in his cheeks. “I don’t like my food mixed together like this.”

  It took all the effort in the world not to crack a rib as she stifled the laugh ripping through her. “You must really hate chicken pot pie then.”

  Spencer winced, actually looking ill. “I can’t even look at those things.”

  There was no stopping it. She laughed until there were tears streaming down her face and she couldn’t breathe.

  “It’s not funny!” Spencer protested, biting back his own laugh. “It’s a serious condition!”

  That only made her laugh harder. “That is the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard,” she choked out, wiping the tears on her cheeks.

  He scowled at her, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “Okay, so you now know my dirty secret. Tell me one of yours.”

  “No way!” she gasped.

  “It’s only fair!”

  “I don’t have any weird secrets!”

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe that. Everyone does.”

  Sophie had to really think about it. “I bite my nails.”

  “That’s not weird. That’s just gross.” He laughed, ducking the pepperoni she flung at him from off her pizza. “Okay, something else.”