"All right, Crystal. Let's run through your interview answers like you're on stage at the competition."
At fifteen, Crystal had a tendency to overthink her answers, but today she was on fire—confident, articulate, hitting every point perfectly.
"That's it exactly, Crystal. You're going to wow them next weekend."
After they left, Rhodes remained by the windows. "One down.” The corner of his mouth quirked slightly.
"Get ready—you're going to be interrogated by every pageant mom who walks through that door today."
"Looking forward to it," he said, completely deadpan.
Sierra Hawkins arrived at ten-thirty with her mother Shelly for runway coaching. After I introduced Rhodes as my boyfriend and fielded Shelly's excited questions, thirteen-year-old Sierra ran through her routine with the grace of someone twice her age.
"She's got presence," Rhodes said after they left.
"Natural performer. Some girls have to learn it. Sierra was born with it."
We ordered sandwich delivery for lunch and ate together in the small break room. The space was barely more than a closet—just enough room for a small table, two chairs, a coffee maker, and a mini-fridge. But I'd made it cozy with soft pink walls and a small vase of fresh flowers on the table. The door to the main studio stood open, letting in the scent of the lavender air freshener I kept near the entrance. I found myself telling him about each of my students—their strengths, their struggles, their dreams. He listened. Asked questions. Seemed genuinely interested instead of just waiting for his turn to talk.
When I stood to clear our trash, he stood too. Our hands brushed reaching for his wrapper at the same time.
His fingers curled around mine for just a moment. Just long enough for my pulse to jump.
"Sorry," I said, pulling back.
"Don't be."
The look in his eyes said he wasn't sorry at all.
AT FOUR O'CLOCK, VANESSAClarke's SUV pulled up outside Crown & Grace.
Addison climbed out, waving goodbye to her mother. The moment she walked through the door, nervous energy radiated off her.
"Ready for this?" I asked.
"More ready than I've ever been for anything." She glanced at Rhodes. "Thank you again for doing this, Mr. Foster. I know it's a lot to ask."
"Happy to help," he said easily. "And it's just Rhodes."
We piled into Rhodes's truck and headed out of town. The landscape shifted as we left Valor Springs behind—manicured lawns and sidewalks giving way to open ranch land dotted with mesquite and live oak. Barbed-wire fences stretched alongside the road, marking property lines that seemed to go on forever. In the distance, cattle grazed under the late afternoon sun.
Fifteen minutes later, Rhodes turned onto a gravel drive. His property appeared gradually—a simple one-story ranch house painted white with a deep front porch, a weathered red barn, and beyond that, a practice arena enclosed by wooden rails. Two horses stood in a corral attached to the barn, their heads lifting to watch our approach with curious dark eyes.
"This is beautiful," Addison breathed as we climbed out.
"It is," I agreed, taking in the wide Texas sky and the peaceful quiet broken only by birdsong and the soft snort of one of the horses. This was a whole different world from my studio with its mirrors and polished floors.
"Thanks." Rhodes led us past the barn toward the practice arena. The horses followed our progress along the fence line, oneof them—a bay mare—nickering softly. "Let's get you warmed up."
The arena was simple—packed dirt surrounded by wooden rails, with three practice dummies positioned at varying distances. Rhodes grabbed a coiled rope from where it hung on a fence post and moved to the center of the space.
"Watch first," he told us.
He demonstrated the technique—feet planted wide in the dusty arena floor, weight balanced, shoulders squared. His hands worked the rope with an ease that came from years of practice, building the loop overhead in smooth, controlled circles. The rope sang through the air before he released it. The loop sailed forward and settled perfectly over the nearest dummy's head.
Made it look effortless.
"Now you try." He retrieved the rope and handed it to Addison.
