Guarding Sophie

by Julie Brannagh

  “How’re your mom and your brother and sister doing?”

  “My mom loves her job, and the littler kids are already looking forward to school being out for summer,” Michael said. “Derrick and his wife were here a couple of weeks ago for my sister’s ballet recital.”

  “I hope you made him put on some tights.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Michael said, hiding his smile behind one hand.

  He handed two iced teas over the counter as Kyle stuffed the change from a twenty-dollar bill into the tip jar. “It’s good to see you again. Let us know if we can help out before training camp, will ya?”

  “Thanks,” Michael muttered.

  Now that he knew where Michael worked, Kyle knew he’d be stopping by a few afternoons a week to grab some coffee and overtip for it. He guided Sophie to one of the empty tables in a sunny window.

  “I should have asked you if you wanted something to eat,” he said.

  “This is fine. Thanks for offering.” She took a sip of her iced tea. “I guess you’ve known Michael for a while.”

  “He’s a good kid. We keep an eye on him,” Kyle said. “So, what have you been doing with yourself for the past ten years?”

  SOPHIE DID HER best to swallow her mouthful of iced tea before she choked on it. She wasn’t sure where to start or how much she could confide in him, but she had to offer some kind of explanation as to why she probably wasn’t going to be spending a lot of time with him. She missed everyone she’d known in Cocoa Beach and her friends from college. It was a constant ache. The past three months had been like the deep breaths anyone took after being underwater—the relief of oxygen flooding into her lungs, and the feeling of release as she breathed freely for the first time in years. She wasn’t expecting Peter to show up and try to hurt her anywhere she went.

  She wished she had a bit more time to concoct a story, but maybe she could get Kyle talking about himself. Most people enjoyed that.

  “Oh, this and that,” she said. She fidgeted a little. “What have you been doing?”

  “Weren’t you an education major at Florida State?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I thought I’d do something else for a while. Do you enjoy playing for the Sharks?”

  He raised an eyebrow and took a sip of tea. “It’s great. I’d kind of like to know what you’ve been doing, though. I tried to catch up with you a few times when I went home after football seasons. Your mom told me you were teaching, but I never saw you around.” He put the pint glass of tea back down on the table and looked into her eyes. “She mentioned something about a jealous boyfriend.”

  “Uh, yeah.” She looked away from him and followed a bead of moisture down the side of the glass with a fingertip.

  “I’m guessing he’s the reason you’re not dating.”

  “Pretty much.”

  He leaned forward and rested his forearm on the table between them. He lowered his voice so anyone else in the coffee shop wouldn’t be able to listen in.

  “So, let me put this together. You’ve been here for three months or so. You’re not teaching right now. You left Florida after having lived there your entire life. And I guess the jealous boyfriend isn’t with you, or you wouldn’t be sitting here with me. Am I right?”

  She nodded and stared at the little glass vase with a flower in it in the middle of the table. It was easier than looking at him.

  “Is everything okay, Sophie?”

  “No. It’s not,” she said.

  Chapter Four

  SOPHIE PULLED BREATH into her lungs and toyed with her iced tea glass. Every time she told her story was a risk, but she was lonely and needed to talk to someone. The relief of getting away was tempered by the isolation of little human contact.

  She heaved a sigh. “There is something wrong. And nobody knows I’m here.”

  “What happened? And what about your parents?”

  “I sent them a text and told them I was fine and I would contact them when I could.” She’d left her former cell phone on long enough to assure her family that she was safe and that she wasn’t going to tell anyone where she was until Peter was in jail or had no way of following her. She didn’t want to think about how long that might take to happen.

  Maybe that was a fantasy. Maybe she was nuts. Maybe she was going to spend the rest of her life on the run. Right now, though, she was a bit surprised. Kyle seemed to be a lot more observant than she gave him credit for when they were in school together.

  “Is law enforcement involved?” he asked.

  “I have a restraining order against him in Florida. I’m not sure it’s going to help.”

  “So he’s violent.”

  “Yes.” And crazy, and she didn’t want anyone else to suffer because she’d managed to attract her worst nightmare in human form. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life alone, but she also didn’t want to endanger the people around her. It was a hell of a choice.

  Kyle leaned a little closer, and she got a whiff of subtle, expensive cologne that smelled like the sea. Except cleaner. “I have a secret too,” he said.

  “Please tell me you don’t have a crazy stalker.”

  “People follow me around, but they’re not dangerous or anything,” he said. She had to smile. “I’m hiding out from my parents. And most of my friends.”

  She blinked at him. “Why would you do something like that?”

  “Because I needed a break.”

  “The usual family stuff, or something more exciting?” she asked.

  “Oh, it’s much more exciting.” He took another sip of iced tea. “Needless to say, it looks like we’re both trying to stay away from everyone right now. Maybe we should hang out together.” He swirled the tea around in his glass.

  “You’re famous, aren’t you?” she asked. “This might be a problem.”

  “It’s the off-season. Nobody’s looking for me here.” He touched his glass against hers and grinned. “Let’s enjoy the anonymity.”

  Less than a minute later, a teenager wearing a Seattle Sharks T-shirt and black board shorts approached their table. “Aren’t you Kyle Carlson?” he said. “Will you sign my hat?” He whipped off the ball cap he was wearing and held it out to Kyle.

  Sophie had to laugh at the astounded look on Kyle’s face. “So much for the sunglasses and ball cap disguise,” she murmured to him.

  “Sure,” Kyle said to the kid. “Let me find a pen.” He searched his pockets in vain while Sophie reached into her purse and grabbed out a ballpoint pen.

  “This might work,” she said and passed it across the table.

  Kyle signed the teen’s ball cap, told him (and the three kids who quickly lined up for autographs behind him) that he was passing through town on his way to Spokane, and gave Sophie her pen back. “It was great meeting you guys, but we have to go,” he said. He reached out for Sophie’s elbow and helped her to her feet. “See you around,” he told them.

  “Go Sharks,” one of the teens said.

  “Tell Reed not to retire yet. We need to win a few more championships first,” another teen said.

  “I’ll be sure and do that,” Kyle said. “He’ll love it.”

  “Well, my secret’s out,” he said in a low voice. He waited until the teens walked out of the coffee shop. “Are you hungry yet? Let’s go grab a bite somewhere else.”

  KYLE TURNED ONTO Noel’s Main Street. Sophie glanced up at the banner suspended overhead advertising Santa Claus’s appearance at the annual Noel Easter Egg Roll in a couple of weeks. Portraying Santa Claus must be a full-time job in this place. Maybe it was like Vegas and Elvis impersonators: one on every corner.

  “Does that happen to you often?” she said.

  “What do you mean? Seeing someone I know at the coffee shop? I knew Michael lived here, but I didn’t know he got a part-time job. Collins is going to lose it. Michael still has to take his finals in a month or so. He should be studying—” Kyle pulled off the road and into Noel’s gas station.


  “Who’s Collins? And I was actually wondering about your getting recognized by people.”

  “Derrick Collins is a big defensive tackle. Everyone comes up to him when he’s out in public. He’s a huge pain in the ass, but I love him.” Kyle grinned at her. “And the only reason why those kids recognized me is because they’re superfans. I walk around all the time, and nobody cares. Nobody recognizes me with my helmet off.”

  “Is Michael going to tell all his friends that you’re here?” She wanted to ask Kyle if Michael was going to tell other people that she was here, but it seemed a bit paranoid. She was willing to bet that Michael and his friends were less than interested in anything she was doing. They’d want to talk to Kyle.

  “Hell no. He knows better. We’d never get a minute’s peace.” He shut the ignition off and opened the car door. “I’ll be right back.”

  She had a few minutes to think while Kyle filled his gas tank. She wanted to spend some more time with him, but she wondered if she should tell him how bad it got before she left Cocoa Beach. He might not want to hang around with her after he knew, and she wouldn’t blame him.

  He got back into the driver’s seat and pushed the button to start the car. “So, I meant it about a bite. I’m kind of hungry. What do you feel like eating?”

  “I’ve been to the bakery. Their sandwiches are really good. They make a quiche of the day that’s delicious,” she said.

  He shook his head as he turned out of the gas station. “Maybe we should get some hot food.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve eaten a lot of sandwiches over the past few days. They’re easy to make, and I don’t burn them.”

  “You bought three hundred dollars’ worth of food earlier! Didn’t you buy a prime rib?”

  “Maybe I could cook it on the grill—”

  “No,” she said. “No, no, no. It won’t work. You have to cook prime rib slowly, and it needs to start on high heat.” She almost groaned aloud. “That piece of meat was seventy dollars! I thought you were serving dinner for ten or something. Please tell me you know how to cook.”

  He stopped at the red light and turned to face her. “What would you say if I told you that I don’t?”

  She was mystified, but she found herself smiling at the amusement in his face.

  “Why did you buy all that food if you don’t know how to cook?”

  “I thought I could teach myself. I have a gas stove; I have a brand-new grill—what could be so hard?”

  She couldn’t imagine how one person could be so handsome and so infuriating at the same time. He was tall. He had muscles, but he was leaner than other pro football players she’d seen photos of. His dark wavy hair was smoothed into a low ponytail, which he’d pulled into a knot at the nape of his neck. His tapered brows, chiseled cheekbones, and strong jaw framed dark, twinkling eyes, a straight nose with a scar on the bridge, and full lips. Stubble looked good on him too. She saw laugh lines when he smiled. He’d turned the bill of his ball cap off-center and rested one tanned wrist over the steering wheel of his Lexus.

  It wasn’t his fault that she was a cooking-show junkie when she lived in Cocoa Beach. She loved to cook. Leaving the kitchen she’d scrimped and saved to outfit with the best cooking equipment and gadgets she could afford was almost as painful as leaving her family and friends. Her family offered to pack the stuff up and put it in storage for her when she’d called home. Of course, she was worried they’d have an ugly encounter with Peter while they were doing so.

  She thought about explaining to Kyle that cooking was a lot more than dumping something in a pan and turning on the stove, but maybe she needed to cut him a break. So he was a little clueless. They’d have no chance of being spotted if they were making a gigantic prime rib or something together. Teaching him some basics might be fun.

  Making food would mean they’d have to go to his place. She didn’t have a stove in the teeny kitchen at the mother-in-law apartment she lived in. Was it too weird to go to his house? They weren’t putting the moves on each other. They were friends.

  Seventy dollars’ worth of prime rib. She started making a shopping list in her head.

  “Do you have a roasting pan at home? My kitchen stuff didn’t make the trip,” she said. She’d brought her three-and-a-half-quart Caribbean blue Le Creuset Dutch oven and a microplane in her suitcase. She couldn’t use the Dutch oven right now, but she couldn’t leave it behind.

  “What’s a roasting pan? Is that like a skillet?”

  She couldn’t decide if she wanted to cry or scream first. “No, it’s not. We need to go back to Noel Foods. We’ll get a disposable one, and you can order a better roasting pan from Amazon if you decide you’d like to roast more stuff after this.”

  SHE WAS CHATTERING away about peppercorns, kosher salt, and au jus (he’d had the stuff before; he wasn’t a complete idiot) and a big knife they needed to cut the finished prime rib with as she pushed a cart down the seasonings aisle at Noel Foods. It was all he could do not to laugh out loud. Unless he was really mistaken, she’d just invited herself over to his house to save the prime rib.

  “I have a knife set. We’re covered there,” he said. “What else do we need?”

  Most guys spent hours trying to come up with a way to ask a woman out they were already attracted to or, in his case, had been since he was in high school. Expensive cuts of meat must have some mystical power over Sophie. She evidently couldn’t wait to get in the kitchen and straighten things out for him.

  He wanted an actual date with her—dinner at a great restaurant, maybe a movie afterward—but right now, he knew she’d run like a cheetah if he suggested it. If she wanted to break in his new kitchen, she was free to do so. Hanging out at his place also had the added bonus of privacy. He wasn’t going to make a move on her quite yet, but he really wanted to hear her story. He wondered if there was anything he could do to help. She shouldn’t spend the rest of her life being afraid of her own shadow.

  Sophie was glancing through the stuff in the cart. “Okay. We have aluminum foil, peppercorns, kosher salt, fresh rosemary, garlic, olive oil, a disposable roasting pan, and a big fork to take the roast out with. I’ll grab some fresh horseradish. Do you have a cutting board? We also have potatoes, cream, butter, and broccoli. How about a bottle of red wine? It might be good with the meat.”

  “Does this mean you’re coming over to help me cook?”

  “Help you cook?” she joked. “I thought I was cooking.”

  “Well, then,” he said, “I accept.”

  Chapter Five

  KYLE PULLED UP in front of his place with Sophie and another seventy-five bucks of groceries. She’d offered him cash for the stuff they bought, and she’d tried to pay for her own iced tea today. There was no way he was letting her pay for any of it. She was doing him a favor by trying to help. Plus, he could afford it. It had been a while since he’d had someone so much as offer to pay for anything while they were out together. Just knowing she didn’t expect him to foot the bill for everything was refreshing.

  “You’re the first person to see this besides the interior decorator and my real estate guy,” he told her as he grabbed the grocery bags out of the backseat of his crossover.

  “I’m honored,” she said. “Thanks for inviting me.” He saw her grin. “I should have brought a housewarming gift.”

  “Hell no,” he said. “Come on in.”

  He opened the front door, disengaged the security system, and gestured for her to precede him inside. The soaring ceilings of his cabin kept things cool. The late-afternoon sun brushed everything it touched with soft gold. He still smelled the lemon-scented stuff the cleaning people had used before he’d moved in too.

  “It’s beautiful, Kyle. You must love this.”

  “I do.” His new condo back in Bellevue had an incredible view of Lake Washington, but he was enjoying the fresh air and privacy of this house nestled in evergreens.

  “Don’t you have to cross the pas
s to go to the Sharks’ headquarters every day?”

  “I don’t have to be back in Seattle for six weeks,” he said. “Want something to drink?”

  “That would be great.”

  SOPHIE STIFLED A gasp as she walked into the kitchen of her dreams. Hand-scraped wide-plank hardwood floors were stained a rich dark brown that coordinated with the lower custom cabinets. The upper cabinets were a snowy white. Gray-veined quartz countertops were accented with a subway-tile backsplash that went up to the ceiling. A farm sink beckoned, complete with a dual-function faucet and generously sized window that looked over Kyle’s backyard. She did her best to not gawk at the state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances. She moved closer to a quartz-topped center island with plenty of storage and a place to eat.

  She could spend all day every day cooking on the six-burner extra-large gas cooktop and baking in the double ovens if they belonged to her. She wondered how many batches of cookies she could bake at once. Her Le Creuset Dutch oven would be right at home here too. It was quite a contrast to the hot plate and the small countertop convection oven in her mother-in-law apartment.

  A round wooden table and chairs flanked by windows on all sides sat on a colorful area rug behind her. She ran her fingertips lovingly over the quartz countertop on the island and let out a sigh.

  “What do you think?” Kyle said.

  “It’s incredible. I wouldn’t want to leave the kitchen at all.”

  “You haven’t seen the upstairs yet,” he teased.

  “I think I’m afraid to. If it’s as perfect as this is, I won’t want to go home.”

  He put the grocery bags on the island. “I have a couple of guest rooms, you know. We could work something out.”

  She glanced up at him in surprise. She did her best to keep her voice light.

  “You’re funny.”

  “I don’t know how to cook; you do . . . It could work out well for both of us,” he said. “I’m a very appreciative eater.” He grabbed a pound of butter out of the bag and crossed to the refrigerator to put it away. “So, tell me about your place. Actually, maybe we should start with why you moved to Noel.” He turned to face her once more. “Want a beer?”