Nobody But You(36)

Chapter 12



Sophie stood in the frozen-foods aisle at the grocery store, staring at a two-gallon tub of ice cream. She was doing her damnedest to stay upbeat, but between her and the very tiny bathroom mirror on The Little Lucas, she was having a hard time.

She was on the phone with her parents, and her dad didn’t sound happy. But then again, he never did. She wished she could find the magic button to cheer him up, wished—

“How’s the hotel chain management job going?” he said.

Her stomach sank. “I was fired from that one.” She paused. “A month ago.”

The deafening silence made her wince. Being fired was the ultimate failure in her dad’s eyes. After all, it was after he’d been let go from the job at NASA that he’d hit rock bottom.

“You’ve got to work harder at things,” he said. “Like being married. Like your job. Look at Brooklyn. She has it all: a husband, kids, a good job with benefits.”

“You didn’t finish college because it wasn’t for you,” her mom said. “You left your great almost-a-paralegal job? Sophie…”

She closed her eyes at that and thunked her forehead right there on the glass door in the frozen-foods aisle.

“You’ve got to hold yourself to a higher standard,” her dad said quietly.

“It’s not what you think,” she said, not quietly. That had always been part of the problem. Her parents were calm, internal people.

She didn’t have a calm bone in her damn body and she’d never been able to keep much inside. “And I do hold myself to a high standard. I’m working hard, on everything.” I want to make you proud…But she didn’t say that. Instead, she said what she always said. “You’ll see.”

“You’re like a loose tumbleweed, twisting in the wind,” her mom said. “Find what you love and the money will follow.”

Right. But what if she didn’t know what she loved?

Or if she even could love?

They said their good-byes, and Sophie loaded a gallon of chocolate fudge ice cream and then on second thought made it two. Then she called her sister.

“Hey, what’s up?” Brooklyn answered, sounding irritated. “And what I really mean is ‘Hey, unless you have a time machine to whisk me away from the insanity of my life, I can’t talk right now.’”

Sophie could hear the sounds of kids laughing and playing in the background and also what was probably the clicking of her sister’s fingers over a keyboard. “You busy?”

“I can’t even. What’s up?”

“Just talked to Dad.”

Brooklyn sighed. “And how did that go?”

“The good news is that in the best-daughter competition, you’re still winning. The bad news is that he’s still upset about the divorce.”

“You’ve done some good things too,” Brooklyn said. “Marrying a dickbag wasn’t one of them. Don’t feel bad about leaving him. In fact, leaving him should be added to the list of good things you’ve done, stat. Hang on—Kyle,” she yelled, “if you shove that crayon tip up your nose, so help me, I’ll—shit. Soph, I gotta go.”

Sophie slipped her phone back into her pocket and felt a tingle of awareness along the nape of her neck that had her lifting her head.

Her gaze collided with Jacob’s.

He stood at the end of the aisle in front of the frozen pizzas, wearing sexy jeans and an army-green T-shirt that fit like it’d been made for him.

Bad for you, she reminded herself. All you’ve done is daydream about the things he did to you in his great big bed with his great big—

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

He smiled like maybe he knew what she was thinking about. And his smile made her remember all the things she’d been coaxed into doing the last time he’d flashed it at her.

Just keep your cool. And your clothes on. She eyeballed his section of the freezer. “Dinner?”

“Yeah. The question is three meat and five cheese or fully loaded.”

“In other words, a heart attack waiting to happen?”

He slid a laughing gaze her way. “Says the woman who ate a heart attack for breakfast the other day.”

She’d had something else for breakfast that day too. Him. Her body involuntarily softened at the memory. Dammit. “That was a hangover cure,” she said. “Entirely different.”

His grin made the woman behind Sophie drop her frozen chicken Alfredo casserole.

“There’s healthier stuff in the fresh aisle,” she said.

He gave her cart—and the ice cream in it—a long look.

“Do as I say, not as I do,” she muttered.

He laughed, but grabbed a loaded pizza. “I don’t really have all that long of a life expectancy,” he said. “So I’m not too worried about a heart attack.”

That sobered her up pretty quick. And right then and there she made yet another choice. No regrets. “Put the pizza back,” she said. “I’m grilling spice-rubbed beef tenderloin with chimichurri for a client. I’ll have extra.”

“You had me at beef tenderloin,” he said, making her thighs quiver. “Although I’ve got no idea what the hell chimichurri is.”