“Just in case.” She shrugged. “You might be that one in a million.”
Their food arrived. Dane dug in, grateful he had something else to focus on. He didn’t want to think about some asshole hurting Sophia or analyze why that made his chest feel funny.
Sophia took a small bite, then moaned. “Oh my god. I can see why you didn’t want to eat at home.”
He smiled. “Can you?”
“It’s incredible.”
“And unlikely to cause indigestion.” He stopped. That was more than he would’ve normally revealed. His dates never had any clue how he felt about his family. Or anything else, really.
“You should give Salazar a chance,” she said softly. “He’s actually not a bad guy.”
Dane felt his mouth curl. Not a bad guy. Sure. He merely wished Dane had never been born, used his children in a “game” to hurt his wife, and cheated on her. Not that Dane held Ceinlys blameless—she too had used her children in a bid to control Salazar, and she’d taken her share of lovers. Moving deliberately, Dane dunked a fry in ketchup. “Some things are irreversible.”
“What happened between the two of you?”
“Something too boring and pointless for me to remember now.” He wolfed down more than half his burger, not wanting to talk about it. “So, Miss Former World Champion, why aren’t you coaching or something instead of working in my office?”
“I didn’t go into coaching because I was getting my college degree. And it’s not like there are tons of job openings for figure skating coaching.”
“Mm.” Dane chewed contemplatively for a moment. “You know, I never really followed skating, but I do watch the Olympics. Don’t remember ever seeing you.”
She dropped the fry she was holding and looked away. “No. It wasn’t meant to be.”
“Your bad shoulder?”
A curt nod. “Among other things.”
“How? Did you fall while skating?”
“Boring and pointless to talk about now,” she said, throwing his words back at him. “It’s been years.”
But pain darkened her eyes. Going to the Olympics was a skater’s lifelong dream. For somebody like Sophia, who’d been good enough to be a world champion, not going would’ve gutted her.
His heart squeezed. He wanted to call it pity, but it wasn’t. He reserved that for pathetic people, and she was anything but.
No matter the sport, to be world class took unspeakable amounts of dedication and effort. And to be a world champion people remembered years later… Dane couldn’t imagine how hard she must’ve worked for it.
People like that didn’t go around expecting others to hand them what they wanted. Anybody without the work ethic would’ve given up long before they could be any good, much less reached the top.
Had he misjudged her? Twisted everything to fit the most logical worldview for him?
People around him generally thought him too cold and cynical. He’d never had reason to be anything else since people never gave him a cause to doubt his beliefs. But Sophia was different.
She kept challenging him, making him think about things he’d been certain he already knew very well.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
The question startled him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d dined with a woman who actually noticed anything except how much money it cost to buy the latest fashion items. He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable, then picked up a napkin and dabbed a corner of her mouth. “You had a little ketchup.”
“Really?”
“Didn’t know, did you? I told you the burgers here are great.”
“That you did.” She finished the last bite. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Dinner. It’s nice to be out.”
Her smile, full of gratitude and joy, made him feel like he was going to fall off his chair. He pressed his fingers onto the table, dazzled by the brilliance of her expression.
Apprehension uncurled in his belly. After Shirley had died, he’d been so certain nobody would ever breach the walls around his heart. But now, he knew, they were cracking. All because of a smile.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dane had kept his promise, but being fair didn’t mean being easy on Sophia. He’d dumped a giant list of tasks on her the next morning before disappearing into his office. Sophia sighed. At least it was real work, not some stuff he’d made up just to keep her busy. Around ten o’clock, Roxie went into his office.
When she reappeared her eyes were glassy and wide. She was walking stiffly, like she’d aged twenty years in the ten minutes she’d spent in Dane’s office.