Page 27 of Saving Sophia

“You mean I get my own Evie?” Aunt Carol asked, grinning.

My smile froze. “Those sound like big shoes to fill,” I managed to choke out.

“Well, you’re off to a great start.” She pointed first at her red Converse high tops and then to my own sky blue low tops. An irrational and fierce wave of loyalty washed over me. I would be the best Evie ever for this woman, and I would do it in blue Converse.

“I knew you two would get along.” Ethan dropped a hand on Aunt Carol’s shoulder. “I was lucky that coincidence decided to cross our paths at the perfect moment.” He rested his other hand on my shoulder. It was a slight touch, not overpowering, but it held me. A thousand butterflies hatched in my tummy, and I sucked in a surprised sip of air before I could stop myself, trying to keep my knees from trembling.

I had called coincidence a horrible meanie, but he called it lucky.

Aunt Carol tipped her head, her eyes flicking from me, then to Ethan, then back to me before a tiny smirk twitched across her lips. After another round of quick glances, she slapped her thighs. “Well, I’ve got book club in an hour.” She breezed around to give Ethan another big hug. “But I’ll be at the café bright and early in the morning and we can get started.” She hugged me again and gave Rook another playful swat when he dodged her advance.

“Bye-bye,” she called over her shoulder as she headed back to the parking lot, whistling a tune I recognized but couldn’t quite place.

“Winds of Change,” Rook called out to her retreating back. “Scorpions. Nice.” She stuck a thumb up in the air but didn’t look back.

“Subtle, Aunt Carol,” Ethan called out to her. He ticked a shoulder up into a half shrug when he saw the question on my face. “A game we used to play. Uncle Joe started it. He was a fiend for old pop music. He’d whistle and we’d guess the tune.”

I tried to imagine my father playing any kind of game with me. I could only remember his phrase from my dream … such a disappointment.

“I think you got the job,” Ethan said.

I looked down at my shoes and smiled. Beer-soaked gladiator sandals had gotten me into this, and then a pair of Converse helped me out. Things were looking up.

9

SOPHIA

“Welcome home,” Rook said with a flourish as he opened the door. The ancient welcome mat declared ‘It’s always a good day in the mountains.’

“Holy Toledo, this is big.” I said before I could stop myself. The space was open to the back wall, which was mostly windows, displaying a breathtaking view of the tree-dotted mountain slope and the wide-open sky above. An outdoor deck, visible through French doors, hosted a seating area and a covered hot tub.

Rook walked into the center of the living room and leaned against the open stone fireplace. I could see through it to the kitchen in one corner. A connected breakfast nook linked back to the central living room, and all of it centered around the fireplace. A short hallway to the right led off to what I guessed would be a bathroom. A spiral staircase twisted up to a loft that covered half the cabin. I could make out a four-poster bed up there in the growing darkness. The décor was dark and dated, but it was still an amazing space.

“We got a delivery of firewood yesterday, so there should be enough for now.” Rook kicked a log-filled box with his steel-toed boot. “It’s May, but it still gets cold up here at night.” He walked toward the door. “There’s more out on the porch if you need it. I’m gonna go call an exterminator about those bats, and then I’ve got a date. Kelly.” He waggled his dark eyebrows. “Yoga instructor.”

“Thanks, Rook,” Ethan said, rolling his eyes. They were so easy with each other. It was nice.

“I’m doubling my rates if one of those fucking flying rats comes at me,” Rook replied before winking in my direction. “See ya’ round, little dove.”

“Bye,” I said, waving as he walked out the door.

And then, we were alone.

“You’re shivering.” Ethan’s voice was closer than I expected. I flinched and turned, surprised at his nearness. I could reach out and touch him if I were brave. My fingers twitched by my sides at the idea, so I distracted them by clutching my elbows. “It’s cold.”

Smooth.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” he said, stepping closer.

I was helpless to the pull of his buttery smooth voice. I took a breath and held it, waiting.

His arm brushed against mine, and I shivered again. My eyes drifted closed … and then back open. I tilted my head as he walked past me to the wood box by the fireplace.

Oh.

A nervous laugh jerked itself out of my throat. “Fire. Right. Because it’s cold. Wow. Is it always this cold? I didn’t know it would be this cold.” I cringed at my babbling.

He crouched down by the hearth and pushed up his sleeves. He wore a thick, forest green sweater and dark jeans instead of a suit, sexy in a fresh cotton, outdoor adventure sort of way. He tossed logs into the fireplace, his forearms flexing with the effort. He pulled a long lighter from a small box on the mantel and started lighting the smaller pieces in strategic places. The wood crackling as it ignited tickled my ears and made me shiver again.

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