Page 39 of Saving Sophia

She nodded and bit her lip, her teeth making tiny little indents.

“Would you rather … drink wine? Or water?” I smiled and gently took the wine glass from her hand when she gave me a rueful smile.

“Sorry,” she said in a small voice.

“No need for that,” I said, going into the kitchen and filling a wine glass up with water for her. “You can be honest with me.”

She took the glass when I returned and enjoyed a big, quenching drink.

“Much better,” I said. “Now, ready to play?” I tapped my chin, considering an easy first question. “Would you rather live where it’s always cold and snowy, or always hot and humid?”

Her brow wrinkled and her lip twisted as she thought. “I’ve never been in snow. It looks fun, but I’d miss the heat.” She hummed under her breath. “Still, I do love sweaters.” She was taking it so seriously. I fought the urge to pull her into my lap. “Is it always cold and snowy? Like I’d never go to the beach in summer again?”

I nodded my head. “That’s the choice.”

“So, it’s a sacrifice?”

“Most choices involve giving something up,” I acknowledged.

She chewed her lip then shook her head, coming to a decision. “I couldn’t give up the sun. Sorry.”

“No need for sorry.” I sipped my wine and shifted sideways on the couch to face her better.

She took a swig of water. “Is it my turn?” A patch of fading sunlight expanded across the worn, plaid rug and she stretched one leg out, flexing her little pink toes into the warmth of its rays.

“Your turn,” I agreed, resisting the urge to reach out and stroke that leg and run my hands up to the lacy edge of her shorts.

“Umm … would you rather …” She tapped her chin like I had before her eyes brightened at an idea. “Eat only comfort food? Or only fancy food?”

“Health consequences not a factor?” I clarified.

She shook her head. “Nope. But you couldn’t ever have the other again.”

“You’re picking up this game pretty fast,” I said.

She pulled her legs back in and sat crisscross on the couch cushion, leaning toward me, waiting for my answer.

“Hmm, tough choice. I’ve only just discovered the joy of spaghetti tacos. I’d hate to give that up.”

She laughed.

“But I couldn’t give up a really fine steak either.”

“Is that your choice then?” She blinked, tilted her head and leaned back. I tried not to notice the curve of her breasts beneath the kitty cat T-shirt as she stretched.

I nodded. “Fine dining. Final answer.”

She propped her chin in her hand in disappointment. “So far, I’m on the beach eating spaghetti tacos, and you’re in the mountains eating filet mignon.”

“Opposites attract,” I said.

That shy little smile tickled the corner of her mouth. “That’s true.”

“My turn,” I said. “Would you rather follow or lead?”

She snorted. “Well, I hate making decisions, so that’s an easy one.”

“You never like to lead?” I set my glass down on the table, watching her.

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