Sophie was having the time of her life. She slapped the water and shrieked like a young girl. It was a silly kid moment for her, yet one Sophie had never experienced. She laughed so hard she nearly fell off Mac's shoulders.

"Don't laugh so hard that you pee in the pool," Mac said to her over his shoulder.

Sophie tried to keep a straight face, but couldn't. She could barely catch her breath.

"Don't cover my eyes," Mac told her when she clasped her hands around his head to keep her balance. She quickly released him. "We need to fight them from the front, not from the side. Roll your hips forward and concentrate, Soph. We're going in for the kill."

Mac played dirty. He hip-checked Trace, then stepped on his foot. Trace faltered and nearly lost his balance. Mac circled left and positioned Sophie so she could grab Shaye by the shoulders and unseat her. Shaye tumbled back and fell into the water. She came up sputtering.

"Nice move." Shaye gave both Mac and Sophie a high five. Trace bumped their fists.

The final round of chicken came down to Sophie and Mac and Violet and Randy. Randy was a head shorter than Mac, but he had the footwork of a prizefighter. He danced around and trash-talked his opponents. Only once did Violet bop him on the head for swearing. Otherwise it was all said in fun.

Dune watched as Mac again pulled a fast one. Kid or not, Mac took advantage of Randy's weakness. Mac backed him toward the deep end. Randy was so busy taunting and showing off, he misstepped. He tipped over and Violet flipped backward into the water.

Mac pulled Sophie from his shoulders and hugged her. "Winners!" He pumped his arm in the air.

Mac delivered Sophie to the shallow end. She climbed from the pool, shook out her hair, and stomped her feet. She stood by Dune and slipped her arm around his waist. Her happiness meant more to him than any hug she could've given.

"Warrior woman," he praised her.

She flashed a smile. "We kicked ass."

Kicked ass. She was sounding more and more like Mac.

Sophie's guests applauded her win. The clapping soon faded when the south pool gate opened and Maya and Brandt Saunders joined the party. They were formally dressed, their expressions pained. It was obvious they'd rather be anywhere else but there.

Dune sensed Sophie's surprise and uncertainty. She hesitantly left his side and approached her parents, looking pale beneath her sunburn. He swore he heard her knees knock together.

Trace took a step forward, only to have Shaye touch his arm in a silent request to let Sophie handle this alone. Dune wanted to stand beside her, too, but he thought better of it. He believed in Sophie. She'd manage on her own. No Cates would interfere. This was a Saunders matter. Sophie met her parents on the pool deck near the diving board. She straightened her shoulders, clasped her hands over her stomach. Her words were softly spoken. "I'm glad you came to my party," she managed to say.

Her mother's gaze touched on everyone there. "We'd hardly be missed if we hadn't shown up." Her tone was dry. "You appear to have adopted the entire Cates clan as your family."

Sophie cleared her throat. "They came to my party when you refused," she said.

"They came en masse," her mother observed. "They parked their vehicles wherever they could find a spot on our private cul-de-sac. There are tire marks in our front yard where someone made a U-turn."

"That U-turn was mine." Mac raised his hand and confessed. "I also owe you a rosebush."

Maya glared at Mac. "You need to be more careful, young man."

"I'll have Luis take a look at your yard on Monday," Sophie said to appease her mother. "He'll fix the damage."

"Your mother has a right to be concerned, Sophie, but that's not what we came for. Here is your gift," her father said, moving things along. He withdrew an envelope from the inner pocket of his suit coat and handed it to her. "Happy Birthday, Daughter."

No smiles, no hugs, no sign of affection, Dune noted. They were a repressed couple. The dead silence became more strained as Sophie stared at the envelope.

No black dress this year. Dune hoped her parents hadn't gone with a gift certificate to a high-end boutique. Or worse yet, written her a check.

Slowly, her hands shaking, Sophie opened the envelope. Her face softened when she saw what was inside. "Two tickets to the Andrea Bocelli concert in Miami in the fall," she said loud enough for everyone to hear.

"The tickets aren't on sale yet," her mother said. "Your father called in a favor to get them."

Men in high places pulled strings, Dune thought. Sophie loved the opera. He was pleased that her parents had put some thought into her gift this year. Or maybe Trace was behind their initiative. Either way, Sophie was pleased. That was all that mattered.

"Thank you," she said, clutching the tickets to her chest. She glanced toward the dessert table where Marisole and the servers were now slicing pies, cutting up the brownies, and scooping the peach cobbler onto blue plastic plates. "Would you like a piece of my birthday cake before you leave?" she offered. "It's my favorite. Red velvet with cream cheese icing."

Dune knew she held her breath as she waited for their answer. He was not surprised when her mother said in a condescending voice, "Sugar doesn't sit well on an empty stomach. Besides, we're headed to a charity event at the country club; drinks, dinner, and the silent auction."

Her mother cast a final look around and shook her head in disgust. "Such a mess you've all made," she said. "I'll call Platinum Sparkle first thing in the morning. They work Sundays."

A cleaning team, Dune thought. They would sanitize all Sophie's memories and leave her nothing but the scent of bleach. He couldn't allow that to happen. He stepped forward and said to Maya, "That won't be necessary. We'll clean up before we leave."

Her mother's smile was tight. "How nice of you."

"We can haul garbage to the curb with the best of them," said Mac, unfiltered.

"Have a nice evening," Sophie wished her parents on their way. There was no reason for them to stay.

Maya flicked her wrist. "Do get back to your fun."

Fun was all young Randy needed to hear. The kid had been quiet while the adults talked, but he couldn't wait to get back into the pool. He stood on the diving board and bounced up and down, going higher each time.

It was a moment etched in time that no one would ever forget. Maya and Brandt turned toward the south gate at the exact moment Randy jumped off the board. He was tucked to cannonball. He landed the biggest splash of the afternoon.

Those standing on the pool deck near the deep end got soaked to the bone, including Sophie's parents. Maya and Brandt stood as still as statues caught in a sudden rainstorm, dripping wet from head to toe.

They would have to change into dry clothes before they could attend their charity event. Maya was in need of a hairstylist. Water filled Brandt's polished wingtips.

No one moved. Trace was the first to recover. He grabbed two towels from the cabana cabinet and approached his parents with a few mumbled words of apology. Dune could only stare. The damage was done. Trace escorted his parents out.

"Monumental," Dune heard Mac say.

Randy got out of the pool to everyone's stares. He freaked a little. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked, worried.

"Everything's fine," Sophie assured him. "It's a pool party. You're allowed to splash."

"Splashing is not for amateurs," Mac said. "You've gone pro, kid."

Randy looked relieved.

"Dessert, then volleyball," Mac said, taking over the role of social director. "I hear a piece of birthday cake calling my name."

The mayor crossed to Dune. James was in his element cooking at the grill. "Mac's going to want more hamburgers," he said. "I'm low on charcoal. Sophie mentioned there was another bag in the garage."

"I'm on it," Dune said, going for the briquettes. He was happy to keep the party going after the splashing incident. He'd never forget the shocked look on Maya's face if he lived to be a hundred.

He walked through the kitchen and out the side door. The breezeway connected the house to the garage. Mature vines climbed the trellises and tiny pink flowers bloomed. He ducked a bumblebee. The air smelled sweet.

He found several storage areas inside the garage and opened the door to each one. Sophie kept her youthful memories packed away in closets. He found a girl's Huffy bicycle, a dollhouse, and a few stuffed animals. One plush lion had a bright reddish mane, as if he'd been fed spaghetti.

Behind door number three, he located the bag of charcoal. He pulled out the bag and noticed a stack of sports magazines along with a canvas carrier on the floor. A sense of deja vu made his skin prickle, as if he had to check it out. He crouched down.

It was a backpack, well-worn, and with a crooked zipper. He stared and stared, his chest giving an unfamiliar squeeze. Oddly nervous, he flexed his fingers.

He tugged on the metal tab and the zipper gave way. He lifted one of the flaps and, in that instant, he had the strangest sensation he had turned back time.

His breathing deepened as a jumble of images hit him all at once. He caught flashes of a young, brown-haired girl wearing glasses and looking panicky. She was alone and vulnerable. He saw a fallen bicycle near an elementary school. Cars passed and honked, yet no one stopped to help her. Not even the other schoolkids.

He'd gone to her rescue. He recalled parking his Harley and picking up the books scattered across the roadway. He'd fixed the zipper on her backpack so she could get home, then shielded her from the traffic as she applied one of his superhero Band-Aids to her chin.

Had that girl been Sophie?

He looked inside the backpack. Sophie Saunders, Second Grade was written in indelible ink on the inside. He ran his thumb over her name. His gut tightened as he delved deeper into her past. A dozen children's books spilled out. An old Superman Band-Aid was folded in half. He fingered the pair of crooked eye glasses. There was a pack of number-two pencils, a 24-count box of crayons, and a wooden ruler. A green spiral notebook caught his eye. He opened it to the first page.

He saw a few math problems and an old homework assignment. Then he came to his name and his heart slowed. Dun, Dome, Doone was neatly printed near the bottom. He didn't recall giving her his name, yet apparently he had. She hadn't known how to spell it.

He remembered riding off with one eye in the rearview mirror. It had taken her two tries to get back on her bike. He'd hoped she would be safe. The fact that she'd kept her backpack spoke volumes to him about what had happened that day.

Her little girl's heart had never forgotten him.

He'd wanted to protect her then as much as he did now.

He set the canvas bag aside and turned to the sports magazines. He was featured in each one. The dates catalogued every tournament from his rookie year to the day he became top seed. No one had ever followed his career so closely. Not even his parents. But Sophie had.

He pushed to his feet and let the moment fully sink in. Emotion settled heavily in his chest. His mind raced. He had several questions for her. Had she had a crush on him from the age of seven? Had she idolized him in her teens? Had she fantasized about him when she became a woman? Did she see him as the man in the magazines? Or could she see the real man behind the hype and publicity?

Only she had the answers.

Hero worship was lost on him. He didn't want that from her. But did he have the right to ask for more, especially when his future remained uncertain? He didn't want to fail or disappoint her. Could he live up to her expectations of him?

He rubbed the back of his neck. He felt his throat close. He needed to think things through. He wondered how long he could remain in the garage before someone came after him and the bag of briquettes. Who would miss him first?

Sophie Saunders felt Dune Cates's absence even before she consciously realized he was gone. The day felt cooler, as if the sun had slipped behind a cloud. She looked around, not seeing him anywhere.

Her brow pleated, a shiver of worry slipping through her as she went looking for him. The mayor mentioned that Dune had gone to the garage for charcoal. She entered through the breezeway and spotted him immediately. He gave her butterflies. He was a handsome man. She took a moment to admire his bare chest and muscled legs. He looked good in his teal green board shorts. A pair of his Suncats was hooked in his waistband. The sporty sunglasses were oval with navy lenses and a flexible wire frame.

She held up a piece of birthday cake on a blue plastic plate. She smiled as she crossed to him. "I saved you a slice," she said. "Mac's eaten the top tier and is working his way down."

"Thanks for thinking of me." His voice sounded odd to Sophie's ears.

She angled her head, puzzling over his tone. "You're always on my mind," she said.

"You're on mine, too."

Her steps faltered when she saw the open storage room door and her childhood on display. She brushed her damp hair out of her eyes and looked at him. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"James sent me for charcoal," Dune told her. "I found your backpack under the briquettes."

She released a sigh. "That backpack holds a lot of memories from elementary school."

"So I see." He hung her canvas bag on a hook on the back of the door. "Tell me about the day you fell off your bike."

"That was the day I met you."

"I remember now. Your backpack jarred my memory." He looked confused. "Why didn't you tell me that we'd met?"

She shrugged and the cake on the plate tipped. She pushed it back with her thumb. "I was embarrassed," she confessed. "I was an impressionable young girl. You were an older boy with shaggy blond hair and Lion King eyes who rode a motorcycle. As I grew older, there were times I couldn't see your face clearly, but I always remembered your kindness. That mattered most to me."

She looked over at the sports magazines scattered on the floor. "I first learned your last name in Sports Illustrated. Trace had a copy on the desk in his home office. I flipped through it one day while I was waiting for him to take me to the dentist. I saw your photo and decided then and there to follow your career. I admired your strength and drive. I imagined you were a good man."

She paused, continuing with, "I watched your tournaments on TV. You were surrounded by women after every match, yet you took time to talk to the kids, too. You're a great role model, Dune. You challenge life, something I've wanted to do but never had the courage to try. This summer you supported me and my adventures. I'll always be grateful to you for that."

"No hero worship?" His brow creased and his jaw clenched. The question appeared important to him.

She shook her head. "I know your faults."

That took him back. "Name one?"

"You don't pick up after yourself in the bathroom, you can't seem to find the dishwasher, you drink the last of the sun tea without making a new batch, and you have yet to clean the hamster cage."

"I get the picture." He exhaled slowly, as if relieved. "I don't want you to see me as more than I am."

"I promise to see you as a whole lot less."

He rolled his eyes, smiled. "Mac's humor is rubbing off on you. Stay away from him the rest of the day."

"Can't," she said. "He already picked me for his pool volleyball team."

"You're playing in the shallow end, right?"

"We may have to rotate sides."

"New rules," said Dune, bending them to her favor. "One side, ten points wins."

"You're bossy."

"I'm saving you from treading water."

She'd sink like a stone.

He took the cake plate from her then. He ate several bites and said, "I'd like to lick cream cheese icing off your nipples tonight."

Her knees went weak.

Dune gave frosting a whole new meaning.