Николас Спаркс - The Longest Ride

He ate a few bites in silence. “I got thrown,” he said. “That’s how I hurt my knee. I landed wrong.”

She tapped her fork against her plate. “I know,” she said.

“How would you know?”

“Liz, the gal from the arena office, called,” she said. “She gave me a rundown on your rides. She and I go back a long way, remember?”

He hadn’t expected that, and at first, he wasn’t sure what to say. Instead, he speared a piece of the sausage and chewed, eager to change the subject.

“Before I left, I mentioned that Sophia will be coming by, right?”

“For dinner,” she said. “I was thinking of blueberry pie for dessert.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I already did,” she said, pointing with her fork toward the counter. In the corner, beneath the cabinets, he spotted her favorite ceramic pie dish, rivulets of blueberry juice seared onto its sides.

“When did you do that?”

“Last night,” she said. “I had some time after we finished up with the customers. Do you want me to toss together a stew?”

“No, that’s okay,” he said. “I was thinking I’d grill some steaks.”

“So mashed potatoes, then,” she added, already thinking ahead. “And green beans. I’ll make a salad, too.”

“You don’t have to do all that.”

“Of course I do. She’s a guest. Besides, I’ve tried your mashed potatoes, and if you want her to come back, it’s better if I make them.”

He grinned. Only then did he realize that – in addition to baking the pie – she’d tidied up around the kitchen. Probably the house as well.

“Thanks,” he said. “But don’t be too hard on her.”

“I’m not hard on anybody. And sit up straight when you’re talking to me.”

He laughed. “I take it you’ve finally forgiven me, huh?”

“Not at all,” she said. “I’m still angry that you competed in those events, but I can’t do anything about it now. And besides, the season’s over. I figure you’ll come to your senses before January. You might act dumb sometimes, but I’d like to think I raised you better than to act dumb all the time.”

He said nothing, reluctant to start an argument. “You’ll like Sophia,” he said, changing the subject.

“I should think so. Since she’s the first girl you’ve ever invited over.”

“Angie used to come over.”

“She’s married to someone else now. And besides, you were a kid. It doesn’t count.”

“I wasn’t a kid. I was a senior in high school.”

“Same thing.”

He cut another piece of pancake and swirled it in the syrup. “Even if I think you’re wrong, I’m glad we’re talking again.”

She forked a piece of egg. “Me too.”

For Luke, the rest of the day took on a strange cast. Ordinarily, after breakfast he’d immediately start work, doing his best to cross items off the to-do list and always prioritizing. Some things had to be taken care of immediately – like getting the pumpkins ready before the customers started rolling in or checking on an injured animal.

As a rule, time passed quickly. He’d move from one project to the next, and before he knew it, it would be time for a quick lunch. The same thing would happen in the afternoons. Most days, feeling a little frustrated that he hadn’t quite finished a given task, he’d find himself walking into the farmhouse just as dinner was about to be served, wondering how the hours had escaped him.

Today promised to be no different, and as his mom had predicted, it was even busier than it had been on Saturday. Cars and trucks and minivans lined both sides of the drive, nearly back to the main road, and kids were everywhere. Despite the lingering soreness in his knee, he carried pumpkins, helped parents locate their kids in the maze, and filled hundreds of balloons with helium. The balloons were new this year, as were the hot dogs and chips and soda, at a table manned by his mom. But as he moved from one duty to the next, he would find himself thinking about Sophia. From time to time he checked his watch, sure that hours had passed, only to realize it had been a mere twenty minutes.

He wanted to see her again. He’d talked to her on the phone on Friday and Saturday, and each time he’d called her, he’d been nervous before she picked up. He knew how he felt about her; the problem was that he had no idea whether she felt the same way. Before dialing, he found it all too easy to imagine that she’d answer with only tepid enthusiasm. Even though she had been both cheerful and chatty, after hanging up, he’d replay the conversation, plagued by doubts about her true feelings.

It was just about the oddest thing he’d ever experienced. He wasn’t some giddy, obsessive teenager. He’d never been like that, and for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure what to do. All he really knew for certain was that he wanted to spend time with her and that dinner couldn’t come soon enough.

13

Sophia

“You know what this means, right? Dinner with his mom?” Marcia said. As she spoke, she was nibbling from a box of raisins, which Sophia knew would comprise her breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the day. Marcia, like a lot of girls in the house, either saved her calories for cocktails later or made up for the extra cocktail calories from the night before.

Sophia was fastening a clip in her hair, just about ready to go.

“I think it means we’re going to eat.”

“You’re being evasive again,” Marcia noted. “You didn’t even tell me what you two did on Thursday night.”

“I told you we changed our minds and went out for some Japanese food. And then we drove to the ranch.”

“Wow,” she said. “I can practically imagine the whole night unfolding in high detail.”

“What do you want me to say?” Sophia said, exasperated.

“I want details. Specifics. And since you’re so obviously trying not to tell me, I’m just going to assume that you two got hot and heavy.”

Sophia finished with the clip. “We didn’t. Which makes me wonder why you’re so interested…”

“Oh, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because of the way you’ve been flitting around the room? Because when we went to the party on Friday night, you didn’t freak out even when you saw Brian? And during the football game, when your cowboy called, you wandered off to talk to him, even though the team was just about to score. If you ask me, it seems like things are already getting serious.”

“We met last weekend. It’s not serious yet.”

Marcia shook her head. “No. I’m not buying it. I think you like this guy a lot more than you’re saying. But I should also warn you that it’s probably not a good idea.”

When Sophia turned toward her, Marcia dumped the last of the raisins into her palm and crumpled the box. She tossed it toward the garbage and missed, as usual. “You just came off a relationship. You’re on the rebound. And rebound relationships never work,” she said with complete assurance.

“I’m not on the rebound. I broke up with Brian a long time ago.”

“It wasn’t so long ago. And just so you know, he’s still not over you. Even after what happened last weekend, he still wants you back.”

“So?”

“I’m just trying to remind you that Luke is the first guy you’ve gone out with since then. Which means that you haven’t had time to figure out what it is you really want in a guy. You’re still off-kilter. Can’t you remember the way you were acting last weekend? You freaked out because Brian showed up. And now, while in this emotional state, you’ve found someone else. That’s what rebound means, and rebound relationships don’t work because you’re not in the right frame of mind. Luke isn’t Brian. I get that. All I’m trying to say is that, in a few months, you might want something more than simply, He’s not Brian. And by then, if you’re not careful, you’ll get hurt. Or he will.”