Games of Fire Read online

  “I had it handled,” he muttered.

  Warm fingers of humiliation and hurt worked up her neck to flood her face. Her arms instinctively went around her queasy middle, warding off January winds and his rebuff. “My mistake. It won’t happen again.”

  “I don’t mean to be a jerk!” he said after her when she turned on her heels and started towards home at a near run.

  “Really? Because you’re very good at it,” she mumbled over her shoulder.

  He was a step behind her. “I wasn’t always.”

  The defeat in his tone had her stealing a peek at him from the corner of her eye. “You’re letting her isolate you from anything good happening.”

  Something flashed behind his eyes. “And what good thing am I missing exactly?”

  Me! But she didn’t say it.

  “Not all girls are like her.”

  He snorted, his lips curling over his teeth. “They’re exactly all like her.”

  Anger flared white hot inside her. “Then you’re an idiot!”

  Not waiting for a response, she marched away from him, back to the musty garage where she should have stayed all along. Damn him and his stubbornness. Damn him and his sullen, broody, prideful ego. Damn him for making her want to scream and cry and punch something.

  An empty paint can took the brunt of her frustration with a violent kick. It sailed across the garage and crashed into the wall with a vicious bang. She snarled at it like it was the cause of all the world’s misdeeds.

  “Have you ever considered trying out for a team?”

  The soft voice made her whip around, nearly tripping over her own feet. Spencer watched her through his fringes from the open doorway.

  “What are you doing?” Then, another thought occurred to her. “Why are you even here? Why aren’t you with Maggie Chow at the stupid cabin?”

  “Why aren’t you?” His eyebrows knitted. “Who’s Maggie Chow?”

  For a second, she thought he was joking. He had to be. There was no way he hadn’t noticed the shadow following him around, draping herself over him at every opportunity. It was impossible. But he just stared at her, confusion bright in his eyes.

  She was astonished. “You are unbelievable!”

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  “The Asian girl with big brown eyes and perfect skin! I can’t believe you!” she exclaimed when he continued to simply stare at her. “How did you not notice … you know what?” She threw her hands up. “I’m not going there. Nope. You make no sense to me. I don’t understand you at all and you … UGH! You frustrate me to no end. How do you do that?”

  “Talent,” he murmured, with just a hint of a smile.

  Sophie sighed, shaking her head, suddenly exhausted. “Look, I still have all of this to do and my mom is kind of a slave driver so … ” She turned away, snatching up a smashed cardboard box, hoping it would be enough of a hint for him to leave.

  Instead, she heard the rustle of fabric, then a loud thump that made her spin around. Spencer was still there, now jacketless, rolling up the sleeves on the white shirt he wore beneath a black t-shirt stamped with the image of a leering skeleton riding a flaming motorcycle. His jacket lay over a stack of boxes.

  “What are you doing?”

  He raised a hand, sifted his fingers back through his hair before bending down and snatching up several bags of garbage at once. “What does it look like?”

  “But—” He was already walking through the garage door towards the curb. She waited until he returned before speaking again. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know,” he said, hoisting an empty TV box.

  “Then why are you?” she shouted after him.

  “Meh,” he said, giving a shrug of his shoulders. “Bored.”

  She started to protest but figured if he wanted to waste his time organizing her garage, she wasn’t going to argue. She turned back to the clutter of plastic containers.

  “Do you have music or something?” he asked an hour later. He paused to scrunch up two fistfuls of his shirt, twisting the material around his hands and raise the hem to wipe the sheen of sweat from his brow.

  “I can bring my CD player down,” she said with a sigh, swiping tendrils of hair and sweat off her brow with her forearm as she stooped down to sweep broken shards of glass into a dustpan.

  “How did you get stuck doing this again?”

  “Lucky?” She glanced up with a grin, but it just as quickly froze in place.

  Her jaw slackened as she stared wide-eyed at miles of pale flesh exposed to the fading light. Maybe it was the shadows, but every hard square carved into his abdomen seemed more defined in the pathetic light. His waist was narrow and his jeans hung a little too low on his tapered hips. But it was the muscles bunching across his stomach that had her attention. The dustpan slipped from her numb fingers, hitting the concrete with a deafening metallic clang that seemed particularly loud in the suddenly tense silence. They both jumped. Only Sophie wasn’t quick enough to avert her eyes when his head jerked up. His gaze caught hers red handed tracing the lines of his body. Heat swelled up into her face, but, even as she straightened to her full height, she couldn’t look away. He had her hypnotized, a fly trapped in a spider’s web. She felt ensnared, helpless to do a thing when he consumed the short distance between them with three long, purposeful strides.

  “Sophia, have you seen … Spencer? What are you doing here?” Her mother rounded the corner and skidded to a halt.

  Another half foot and she would have had him.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was astonishing how quickly his face went from dark and primal, to perfectly blank in the blink of an eye. He faced her mother, never once giving away that he was mere inches from … what? What had he been about to do? Would he have grabbed her? Kissed her? Yelled at her? It was so hard to tell with him.

  “I had the evening free and thought I would help,” he told her mother evenly.

  Her mother blinked. “Oh! That was nice of you!” She seemed to hesitate, gaze darting between Spencer and Sophie. Had she noticed how flushed Sophie’s face was? Or how much trouble she was having taking breaths? “Uh, it’s suppertime. Are you guy’s hungry? Sophia can finish the rest tomorrow.”

  Spencer shook his head. “I promised Sophie I would take her for pizza after we were finished. Is that all right?”

  Sophie turned away, all with the pretense of pushing a box onto one of the shelves. Anything to keep her mother from seeing the confusion and excitement and suspicion she was sure was now flashing with the intensity of a neon sign. She stayed that way, her ears straining not to miss her mother’s response.

  “Oh, well …” Her mother seemed to be at a loss for words.

  “It’s to make up for standing her up last weekend,” Spencer went on to say.

  “So you did have plans last weekend?” There was a hint of nosiness in the question that made Sophie roll her eyes.

  “There was a misunderstanding,” Spencer said casually. “So, would it be all right?”

  Her mother sighed. Sophie could feel the other woman’s eyes burning holes into her spine. She just kept staring at the shelf, idly adjusting the boxes so they were a finger width apart.

  “It’s fine,” she said at last. Sophie expelled the breath lodged in her lungs. “But home before midnight.”

  Sophie didn’t turn until she heard the fading click of her mother’s heels. She faced the figure watching her and felt her heart jump.

  “We didn’t have plans last weekend,” she told him.

  “I know.”

  “Then why did you—”

  “It was the only way she’d agree.”

  A wary frown pulled her eyebrows together. “What are you doing?”

  He snapped on his heels and marched to where his jacket lay. He snatched it up. “I’m going to take a shower and then meet you here in an hour.” He glanced up, his eyebrows arched questioningly. “Or do you need more time?”

  Outraged, S
ophie prickled. “How much work do you think I need?”

  It was the wrong question to ask. His pale eyes swept over her, roaming down the front of her Cirque du Soleil t-shirt to the tattered holes cut into the knees of her jeans. Every mile of flesh underneath tingled, warming under his careful attention.

  “None,” he said at last, so quietly she almost missed it over the erratic thundering of her heart.

  Then he was a solitary figure moving through the darkness, down her driveway and out of sight towards his house.

  Sophie wasted no time slamming the garage door down and hurrying inside to shower and change. She considered calling Lauren and begging her friend for help on what to wear, but decided against it. It wasn’t a date, she told herself. They were just going to get pizza. She didn’t need to get dressed up for that. Besides, Lauren was probably with Jessie at the cabin still. In the end, she settled on skinny jeans and a knitted sweater. It was cute. It was comfy. It was warm.

  “You look nice,” her mother said when Sophie bounded down the stairs. There was an edge to her tone, a sort of force like she was trying to be reassuring, but didn’t mean it.

  “What’s wrong with the way I look?” Sophie stared down at her outfit, looking for holes, stains, and exposed areas of flesh. She was dressed like any other day.

  “Nothing!” Her mother rose, smoothing her hands down her thighs. “I said you looked nice.”

  “But …” Sophie prompted.

  Her mother shrugged, being very clever to avoid Sophie’s gaze. “I’m just wondering what’s going on. Between you and Spencer,” she added when Sophie could only stare at her blankly.

  “We’re going for pizza,” Sophie said lamely. “Not eloping. What’s the big deal? You’re the one who kept trying to get me to befriend him.”

  Her mother nodded slowly, choosing her words carefully before speaking. “Yes, but …” She trailed off, shook her head. “Never mind. You’re right. I did ask you to be nicer to him. I’m glad you’re taking my suggestions seriously.”

  Still frowning warily, Sophie shifted over to the door and snatched her jacket off the hook. “Yeah, okay.”

  Swinging on the coat, she yanked her hair out from beneath the collar and opened the front door. The crystalized ice shimmered in the sharp winds. It swept through the room, slapping across her face and stinging her eyes. Sophie winced, ducking her head.

  “It’s getting cold out,” her mother observed, coming to stand at her side.

  “I have my mother’s car.” Spencer bounded up front steps, hands deep in his jacket pockets.

  Concern wrinkled her mother’s brow. “Best not to be out too late, the road may freeze.”

  “I’ll have her back as soon as we’re finished,” Spencer promised.

  There was hesitation carved into her mother’s face, but she didn’t stop them as Sophie followed Spencer out the door. They cut down the driveway to the Neon now parked on the street. Spencer hurried ahead and yanked open the passenger’s side door. Sophie blinked in surprise, but she slipped into the warm seat. Spencer jogged around the hood of the car and slipped into the driver’s side. Darkness pressed around them as he inserted the keys and started the engine.

  He paused, glancing through the windshield. His brows creased. His eyes narrowed. Sophie turned her head and tried to see what he was looking at, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  “What is it?”

  He jerked a chin towards the darkness enclosing them ahead. “Do you know that car?”

  Sophie’s eyebrows lifted. “Uh, I don’t make it a habit of meeting cars.”

  He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I meant the owner!”

  She turned her head and tried to crane her neck to see better. In the soft splashes of light from the streetlamps, she could just make out a glint of something shiny and black. It might have been a car, but it was draped in shadows, too well hidden to be sure.

  “No. Why?”

  The fabric rustled as he shifted back in his seat. He shook his head. “It’s been parked there almost every night.”

  Sophie shrugged. “Maybe they’re visiting someone on the street.”

  Spencer made a sound at the back of his throat as he eased the car into drive.

  “So why was it so important that we go for pizza?” she asked, breaking the tense silence. “Are you going to kill me and bury my body somewhere?”

  He glanced over, just a quick peek from the corner of his eye. “Is that an option?”

  Sophie shrugged. “Sure, but I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.”

  He groaned. “Well, there goes that idea.”

  “So?” she pressed.

  “What?”

  “What’s with the pizza?”

  His fingers drummed on the wheel. “Do you have something against pizza?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I like anchovies and onions on mine.”

  He seemed to consider this a moment. “Fair enough. We’ll get you your own pizza.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

  “Nothing to tell. I wanted pizza.”

  “So why bring me?”

  “Because a little bird told me you liked pizza, too. But now, I want to break its little neck.”

  “You know, it would probably just be easier if you answered the question.”

  “UGH!” he growled, throwing his hands up and slamming them down on the wheel with a frustrated thump. “To apologize, okay? That’s why!”

  Sophie ignored the kick in her chest. “What exactly are you apologizing for?”

  He exhaled sharply. “You’re going to make me regret that no killing rule, eh?”

  She shrugged. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re apologizing for and you can’t say everything, because that’s a total cop out.”

  “Wow!” He combed his fingers back through his hair. “Okay. I’m sorry for being a jerk. I know I haven’t been fair to you and I’m sorry.”

  Sophie hadn’t expected him to actually answer. She’d been so certain he would dance around the question or ignore it altogether, so she had no idea what to say.

  He glanced over at her briefly. “Did you faint?”

  “No,” was all she could manage, her mind blank.

  The rest of the drive went on in silence. Sophie watched the town scroll past her window, not really noticing anything until he pulled over in a dark lot.

  “Where are we?”

  “Here,” he said, throwing open his door to the cold night.

  Sophie frowned at the cryptic response as she kicked open her own door and slipped out. He met her at the hood of the car.

  They were in a parking lot, illuminated barely by a single lamp post smack dab in the middle of an ocean of cars. In the distance, just out of the halo of light, was the vague outline of a squat building. A single bulb hung over a set of wooden steps and a wooden door.

  “I take it you’ve never been here,” he said, sounding irritatingly smug.

  “You mean in the middle of a dark parking lot? No. I can’t say I have.”

  She could almost feel his scowl, hear his eyeballs rolling in his skull, but he wisely kept his mouth closed and motioned for her to follow.

  Their footsteps echoed through the shimmering night. Neither spoke, not even when they ascended the four creaky steps to the narrow porch. Pale light spilled over them, and glinted off the hoop in his ear as he leaned over and pulled the latch. The door opened without a sound.

  “Are we allowed through there?” she asked, peering anxiously into the darkness on the other side. “You’re not really going to kill me and do weird things to my body are you?”

  She had only the twist of his lips in a dark grin as reassurance as he motioned her onward. When she hesitated, his smirk broadened, triumph glinted in his eyes.

  “Scared?”

  The challenge had her spine prickling. She stiffened, squaring her shoulders. “Of course not! I was just enjoying the weather.�
��

  He didn’t say it, but the simple arching of his eyebrows spoke volumes. Sophie huffed. She turned on her heels and stubbornly marched over the threshold. He followed her and the door closed seamlessly behind them, throwing them into absolute blackness.

  “Where to now?” she demanded, trying her hardest not to squeak in fright.

  “Forward.”

  Since Sophie couldn’t see the hand she was waving in front of her own face, she had no idea which way forward was until his hands, without fumbling once, settled lightly on her shoulders and turned her twenty degrees to the right.

  “That way.”

  Grumbling and resisting the urge to release the shiver working up her back, she shuffled forward. Five steps in and she walked into a soft wall that rippled with the contact. Splinters of light shattered around them, laced with the mouthwatering scent of melted cheese, garlic, tomato sauce and frying meat.

  “What—”

  His arm brushed across her shoulder as he reached over her and parted heavy curtains. Sophie winced, cringing as a shimmering flood of light punched her directly in the eyes. The attack sent her stumbling back into Spencer who caught her and guided her forward.

  Carefully, she peeled apart her lashes and squinted at the cobblestone path winding ahead of them through towering sheets of fabric. All around, beige material rustled, hanging from iron rods from the ceiling, forming rectangular tents. Fairy lights wound over the tops, along the sides and through the rafters overhead. Antique lampposts sprouted where the path curved down through another section. Ivy twisted up the poles and crept lazily over the huts. It reminded her of a picturesque village. As they passed, some of them were parted, the sheets rolled back to expose a square table stuffed within, surrounded by a leather booth and people.

  “What is this place?” she asked Spencer, peeking in on a couple feeding each other bits of garlic bread and smiling in that disturbing way only people in movies did while they gazed longingly into the other’s eyes.

  Spencer didn’t respond, or he didn’t get the chance to when a figure rounded the curve ahead and hurried towards them, arms open as though prepared to embrace them.