Monday morning, Sophia was relieved when she spotted Wes’s sports car parked in the back lot at work. But her relief was short-lived. In the office, she found him closed off and more aloof than ever.
She stood by his desk, trying to capture his distracted attention. “We missed you at church yesterday. Momma even made your favorite for Sunday dinner. Lucky for you, I made you a plate for today’s lunch.” She held up the plastic wrap–covered dish, but Wes kept his eyes focused on his computer screen. His glasses caught the glare of it, making it impossible for Sophia to get a read on him.
“Seth and I spent the weekend in Alabama,” he mumbled, still refusing to look at her.
“Why? Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I was just homesick.” His answer was terse to the point that it had Sophia’s palms sweating.
She placed the plate on his desk and wiped her hands against the front of her pencil skirt. The weekend had stolen her assurance, so she’d chosen to dress smartly to gather some courage. Clearly it hadn’t worked. Without further comment, she left Wes to sulk. About what, exactly, she wasn’t sure.
Each time she tried to address him throughout the remainder of the day, Wes would cut her off with “Not now, Ms. Prescott,” so she knew it was bad. He hated her last name about as much as he hated the man who had given it to her and only used it when he was in a sour mood.
After work, Sophia made a phone call to Opal, filling her friend in on what was happening and then asking for her help with a little snooping task. She picked Collin up and drove straight over to the Cole house. They let themselves in and found Opal sitting on the couch with Lincoln beside her.
Collin toddled over and stood staring at Opal’s belly. It was becoming quite rounded and Sophia thought it was also quite beautiful. “Ofal, you gettin’ fat.”
Before Sophia could reprimand him for being rude, Opal giggled and said, “It’s all Linc’s fault.”
Collin narrowed his blue eyes at Lincoln. His little brow pinched. “You make Ofal fat?”
Lincoln looked rather smug, smoothing the side of his scruffy beard. “Sure did. I’m right proud of it, too.”
Opal swatted his arm. “That’s enough gloating. Why don’t you show Collin the rocking horse in the nursery?”
Lincoln stood and offered his massive hand and Collin placed his tiny one in it as they walked off.
Opal turned to Sophia once the boys were out of sight. “Wes left through his back door about ten minutes ago.”
“Was he in running gear?”
“No. Jeans and a tee. Should make it easier for you to find him.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Sophia slipped out through the deck door and kicked her gray suede pumps off before descending the deck stairs. Her toes welcomed the cold sand as the breeze ruffled her hair. Taking a fortifying breath, she soldiered past the sand dunes, peering left and then right. A sigh of relief tumbled out when she spotted Wes nestled between the two sand dunes in front of his deck. She trudged over and stood before him, but his eyes stayed focused on the ocean.
“Are you going to explain to me why you don’t like me?” Sophia asked, deciding to open with a little sassing. She dug her toes deeper into the fluffy sand, waiting for him to banter back, but Wes remained mute. She tugged her pencil skirt up until she could bend and sit beside him, close enough to feel his warmth without touching.
“You have to know what I feel for you goes beyond like,” Wes whispered, not taking his eyes off the waves crashing several feet away. A seagull swooped in and plucked at a piece of seaweed that had washed up on the shore before fussing about it and flying off.
Once the bird was gone, Sophia asked, “Then why are you shutting me out?”
“I’m not your family, so I have no rights.” His confession was almost exactly the same sentiment she’d shared in worry with her mother a while back, but it hurt worse coming from him.
Hundreds of words wanted to be said, but each one stuck to her tongue. It wasn’t her place to start promising Wes more than what they were, if she wasn’t 100 percent sure she could deliver. She reached for his hand and whispered, “But you’re my best friend.”
He finally looked at her, tears swimming in his sad hazel eyes. “I want more than friendship. It’s what I was trying, yet failing, to tell you Friday night.”
Sophia had assumed as much. That kiss conveyed more than friendship. Dare she say love was written in the very action of it? “I know, but—”
“But it’s complicated.” A faint smile whispered along his lips, not even distinct enough to produce his dimples, while he gently removed her hand. “And we need to stay focused on doing what’s best for Collin.” He moved his fingers back and forth between them. “He doesn’t deserve complicated.”
As they stood and brushed off the sand, Sophia couldn’t suppress the urge to wrap her arms around him. The embrace was one-sided and sadly awkward, feeling like they had regressed back to how they were in the beginning. When it became clear he wouldn’t be returning the embrace, she let go and began walking away.
“Sophia . . .” His voice trailed off behind her, echoing an edge of contriteness.
She kept walking and threw her hand up. “Good night, Wes.”
He was right. It was complicated. But he’d also proved he was too stubborn to overcome it to be with her. She wouldn’t beg. And she wouldn’t be made a fool of again.
16
Loneliness was something that had become a constant part of Wes’s life over the last four years. He’d come to terms with it being that way—until Sophia Prescott marched her sassy self into his life and demanded he pay attention. Now that she was only on the outer edge of his daily life at the office, he was lonelier than ever.
Even at the moment, on a crowded pier, surrounded by locals shoving their way around to claim prime fishing real estate, Wes was lonely. From the briny smell of fish to the sharp wind, he could hear Sophia’s rant on it as if she were there by his side. Man, he missed her quibbling. Around the office they were back to a reserved uncomfortableness as they’d been at the beginning of the summer. Here it was closing in on December, and the frigidness wasn’t coming from Mother Nature.
Wes trained his eyes on the gray water below, where the last hints of daylight kept touching it with gold flickers. He was flanked by Doc and Seth on one side and August and Lincoln on the other. What they’d done earlier could be considered kidnapping, but he brushed off the aggravation of being snatched off the couch and tried to make the best of this guys’ night out.
“Man, you can tell the spots are running with all these folks out this evening. Y’all best have brought your A game if we gonna catch any supper.” Lincoln baited his double hook with a chunk of mullet, a shrimp, and topped it off with a bloodworm.
“You need all that?” Seth asked, lacing only a single worm onto his hook.
Lincoln motioned around at the large crowd. “There’s too many meal choices, so you gotta entice the fish to come to your hook instead of the thousand others bobbing in the water.”
Seth and Lincoln set into going a few rounds on which bait was the best, but Wes tuned them out and cast his line with a single shrimp on the end. As soon as it had settled in the water, it was snagged. Without any theatrics, he reeled in the fish and put it in the cooler. He proceeded to do this several more times before the other four men could finish prepping their hooks.