“I’m not giving you jewelry for writing a card.”
“Of course not, that wouldn’t be a fair exchange.”
“Why are you suddenly so concerned about fair exchanges? I thought we were old friends.”
“Hmm. I seem to remember a conversation where you informed me that we were never friends, and you only spoke to me because you didn’t have a choice.”
“I thought we agreed to forget about the afternoon where I was, quote, being an absolute asshole.”
“And I thought we were only doing favor-for-a-favor transactions.” The light in her eyes became serious. “Even so, I’d always do a favor for you, Ross.”
Ross didn’t know how he could be annoyed with her one moment, and then whatever the opposite of annoyed was the following one. He was so mixed up his brain couldn’t compute the antonym ofannoyed. He sighed, his shoulders falling loose at the edges, “Thanks for being my PR card person. How can I return the favor?”
She smiled at this. “Keep me company during a light dinner.” She indicated the food across the room. “And maybe you can treat me to a dance afterward.” She nodded to the dance floor where a few couples were already occupying the area.
Ross swept a hand toward the food. “We’ll start with the eating part. I’m not committing to dancing. I’m not much of a dancer.”
“Neither am I, but I wouldn’t mind having a little fun tonight.”
They filled small plates with a variety of finger foods before grabbing a drink and finding an empty standing cocktail table. The Masonic lodge was mothball old with wood-paneled walls and flickering fluorescent lights, not exactly a romantic atmosphere. Not that this was a date or anything. Ross slid a glance at Mia. He wondered why she’d want to spend an evening with him, eating appetizers and listening to an average country band, but, deep down, he was thankful for the company. He was spending too much time alone, his days filled with working and taking care of his dog.
Ross watched her for a few moments as she took small bites from the items on her plate. “What made you show up tonight?”
“I told you I wanted the ring.”
“The ring you thought you could get for thirty-five dollars.”
“Actually, it would have been fifty-five dollars. I’m counting the twenty bucks I spent to get in here, which is no small fee. And, as I’ve noticed two people write on your clipboard since we’ve been over here, I think it’s pretty safe to say I’m not walking out with a new Ross Manasse original. So, really, what am I getting for my twenty bucks but a few mini quiches, cheese squares, and some strawberries? I think the least I could get is a dance out of it?”
“It’s funny how people can’t just donate to charity, but they also have to expect dancing. You do remember this is for a good cause, right, Russo?” Ross popped a stuffed mushroom in his mouth.
She laughed in response, the tip of one hand patting her palm in muted applause. “Very good. I’ve been sufficiently put in my place. I’m also here because, you’re right, it is a good cause, and it feels at least partly related to the family business. There should be one Russo representing here tonight.”
“Oh? The Russo family believes in giving troubled kids second chances?” Despite the light atmosphere earlier, Ross retreated to a darker place at the turn in conversation. The napkin crunched within his hand.
“Of course. All kids deserve a second chance, troubled or not. It’s what I was taught growing up, and I completely believe it.”
Ross studied her for a few moments, his heart cooling inside his chest. “And what would Little Miss Perfect, Most Likely to Succeed know about second chances?”
Mia’s eyes snapped to his, appearing surprised at the brittle tone in his voice. Her expression shuttered to hurt before her eyes dropped to the table. She spent the following minutes picking at the leaves of a strawberry, letting the silence spread across their area like a heavy canvas.
Ross closed his eyes, a sigh drifting through him. He kept striking at her, hating every single time he did it. It wasn’t fair to make Mia the lightning rod for all the frustration and anger stored up inside him over the years. He wanted to stop. The dance floor captured her attention, her face despondent.
“Mia.”
Her eyes drifted to him, but there was no response.
“I owe you a dance.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to. I’m not much of a dancer anyway.”
He abandoned his spot at the table and offered a hand to her. “Favor for a favor.”
A light flickered behind her eyes, but there was no further movement. Ross remained standing with his hand outstretched, feeling foolish. “Please.”
After several long moments, she relieved him of his awkward agony, placing a hand in his. He escorted her to the edge of the dance floor. Ross was far from confident this dance would be a treat for either one of them as his skills were lacking, but he’d do it for her.
The band began a new song, a slow, countrified cover of “Hotel California” by the Eagles. Ross took a deep breath, as if the air contained courage as well as oxygen, and drew her to him. One hand went to the small of her back, feeling the strength and warmth along her spine. His other hand wrapped around hers in a gentle grip. Mia’s left arm touched his shoulder lightly as though he were a paper doll, and she didn’t want to risk crushing him with too much pressure.
