“Well, then hot chocolate here we come.” I tuck the box with her new shoes under my arm and follow Hadley to the front door. She waves to all her friends.
It’s turning cold out, which means we race to the warm car. The moment we get in, I declare our plan. “The ballerina has spoken and to Jolly Joe’s we shall go.”
“Oh, has she?” Spencer gives me a knowing look.
“Please, oh please,” Hadley pleads from the back with her hands together before petting Pickles who's sitting on the seat next to her.
Spencer rolls his eyes at me. “I’m outnumbered, aren’t I?”
“You are.” I toss the box to Spencer. “Here, her new ballet shoes arrived. She should probably wear them around the house a little before she uses them, to avoid blisters.”
“You’re the pro, so I may actually listen to your advice.” He begins to pull out of the parking spot, his forearms on display as he rests his arm on the back of my chair as he shoulder checks out the back window.
It’s a few beats before I realize that Hadley is occupied with Pickles and this SUV is big enough that I can ask Spencer something I have no business knowing.
“You know who is a pro?” I begin. “I met the studio owner back there, a real delight, very interested in your private life.”
Spencer gives me a humorous side glance before focusing on the road. “And?”
“I’m sure she is more than advanced at her techniques.”
“Not having this conversation here,” he rebukes.
I cross my arms and nearly huff, instead opting for silence for the next three minutes until we get to Main Street, and say nothing until we are inside Jolly Joe’s and we order at the counter.
“Can I pick out a dog treat for Pickles?” Hadley asks before we sit down at a fifties-style booth. Jolly Joe’s makes little peanut butter treats to give to dogs, as they are welcome here.
“Go wild,” I say.
She skips off, and I check to make sure my loyal beagle is lying at my feet.
Spencer looks at me with a wry smile, and his eyes possess a curious glint.
“You were saying?”
He isn’t going to let me forget.
I play with a napkin. “Nothing. Just all the dancers and pioneers in this town over the age of twenty seem to be drawn to you, or is it you already went there with good old Romy?”
God, I hate the way I sound. Why do I care?
Spencer takes a sip from his water, calmy, almost as if he is calculating what to say. “I wouldn’t hook up with someone who is responsible for Hadley’s favorite hobby.”
My nose tips up.
“I mean, that was the rule I madeafter,but you know,” he adds. My mouth opens but no words come out until he starts to laugh. “Relax, I’m messing with you. Romy has a husband. She's high school sweethearts with the contractor for my house renovations, actually.” My jaw relaxes, and I feel silly. Spencer reaches across the table to touch my arm. “Jealousy is kind of hot on you.”
“I’m not jealous,” I lie.
“A little jealous.”
“Not at all.”
“It’s okay. I think I might strangle a guy who looks at you like he has a chance too.”
My eyes dart to his, and I can’t read him, but I sense that he is letting a chip off his steely exterior, and it causes a line to creep up on my mouth.
For a moment, I forget where we are, and it feels like it’s only me and him, and I like that we are at peace with one another, relaxed enough to be ourselves with no walls, otherwise we will just tear them down. We aren't capable of hiding, not around each other.
