“Tell me about your studio,” he said instead, pulling them both back and into safer waters. “What made you decide to open a place like that?”
She thought for a moment, ready to give her canned answer about wellness, the one she’d repeated to the bankers and nosyneighbors a hundred times. But something about Rush’s steady gaze made her tell the truth instead.
“Since I was little, dance has always been my dream. My mom encouraged it to help strengthen my lungs, and it worked. I got stronger. Happier too. Teaching yoga and wellness classes just felt like a natural extension—and a smart business move when I finally sat down to write a business plan.” She gave a self-conscious shrug as old instincts to downplay herself kicked in.
Tucker had never liked when she talked about the studio. Her business plans and marketing ideas bored him, or so he said, although she’d always suspected it had more to do with him not being at the center of her world. One of the proudest moments of her life had been the day she’d picked up the keys to the studio—just her and Evie, buzzing with excitement. They’d scrubbed the place clean, painted it with the help of Allie and Amber and the rest of her family, while Tucker slipped away with some flimsy excuse. She should have seen it then, she thought absently, how little space he made for her dreams. How quick he was to prove that his came first.
“Smart move,” Rush said quietly.
“I really am proud of it,” she admitted. “My mom drilled it into all of us that college was nonnegotiable. I always knew I wanted to dance, but she pushed me to add a business minor. It panned out, I guess.”
“No guessing about it. I see the traffic coming in and out of your studio. You built something solid.” The admiration in his voice filled her with unexpected pleasure.
“She didn’t want us to end up like she did when my dad left,” Lily went on, getting more comfortable. “She went back to work with four kids, worked nights, weekends, whatever it took, until she built the success she has now.” Pride laced her voice. “She made sure we’d never have to rely on anyone else to survive.”
Rush’s gaze sharpened, and he nodded. “That’s exactly what I tell Rachel and Sarah. Your mom sounds tough but fair.”
“She is.” Lily smiled, thinking about Annette. “She’s tough and amazing and a little intimidating. Everything I am is because of her. I admire her more than anyone,” she said simply.
Eden dropped off their lunches, and they dug in, chatting about lighter topics. Rush was wry and self-deprecating, and she laughed, enjoying herself as they ate. She asked him about his favorite color—black, which she teased him about. His favorite food—burgers. Deep sigh. She asked about his plans for Christmas—a quiet lunch with Pop and his sisters on Christmas Day but otherwise no plans.
“That sounds wonderful,” she said, smiling. “Theo and Amber are hosting their annual Christmas Eve party, and my family always has dinner on Christmas Day.” Gathering a little courage, she added shyly, “Maybe you could come.”
“We’ll see,” he said easily. “What are you doing later this week?” he asked.
There it was again—the pivot. Clearly, meeting each other’s families wasn’t part of their arrangement. She’d asked about his family, about growing up in Texas, but every time she asked him a personal question, he only gave a brief answer before directing the conversation back to her.
Unless it was sex or teasing her, Rush kept his feelings close to his chest.
Except when he’d seen Chloe at the studio.
She couldn’t forget the way his body had gone rigid or the panic flashing in his eyes when he’d looked up and seen her on the steps. Or the way he’d kissed her after the Whitmores left—hard, almost desperately, as if he needed her to burn something out of him… or maybe into him. That kiss had stayed with her, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts as they ate, but she couldn’t put her finger on why.
“Was that the first time you’ve seen Chloe?” she asked, wondering if he’d answer this time.
He stilled, the easy smile fading from his face, and his eyes went cool and remote. The change was enough to make her blink. All that warmth and teasing and then nothing. “Are you done?” He nodded at her empty plate and glanced around as if looking for the check, avoiding her eyes.
Impulsively, she reached out her hand and touched the bruised skin of his knuckles. “What are these from?” she asked instead of answering him.
Rush turned his palm up, still holding her much more delicate hand but taking control.
Heat filled her at the contact. “Boxing. I’ve got a bag at the house. What are you doing this weekend?” He stroked the faint indent on her left finger where her engagement ring had been before tracing the sensitive skin of her palm.
“I teach on Saturday mornings and have Sunday dinner with my family, but otherwise I’m free,” she said, aware that he’d pivoted once again and distracted her with his touch.
“Listen, you two.” Gertie paused by their table, shrugging her puffy coat on. “Don’t mean to interrupt this eyeballing thing you have going on right now, but I just want to say, good on ya, Lily.” She stuffed her bright-pink beanie on her head, leaving iron-gray curls smashed around her head. “Those other dates were wasting your time when you’ve got a man like Sheriff Callahan.” She eyed Rush with blatant appreciation.
“Gertie,” Lily began, shooting Rush a look of mortification.
She tried discreetly to tug her hand back, but he only tightened his grip.
“Appreciate the vote of confidence, ma’am,” he said with a small,amused smile.
“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me.” Gertie snorted. “That one’s the real deal, sweetheart.” She jerked her chin toward Rush and winked at Lily. “Don’t let him get away.”
Lily wanted the floor to open up beneath her.
“We’ll keep that in mind,” he said smoothly. His thumb brushed slow and steady over her palm, anchoring her with a weight and intensity that made her both calm and dizzy, as if she were about to step off a cliff and change everything.
