Something had shifted, even tilted. There was a hint of awareness, and the idea that he could somehow matter, that she was in a lot deeper than she wanted to be, was freaking-her-the-fuck out.
Dane radiated steady. And she didn’t understand steady; she had no experience of it. Steady was roots pushing into soil, a thick tree withstanding high winds. The roll of the ocean rhythmically hitting a beach. Spring rolling into summer, then autumn into winter.
She couldn’t handle steady. Because she knew it was a mirage, something that always evaporated, usually when she started to believe it would stick around. And she had reason to think like that…
So, she did what she always did, and pulled back, lightly patting his chest and forcing a laugh. “You’ve got skills, Trafford.”
His eyes narrowed, just a fraction, as if he were trying to take her emotional temperature. Seeing that he wasn’t convinced by her breezy attitude, she released another quick laugh and tilted her head. Then she patted his chest again. He looked down, and his frown deepened.
“That was …impressive. I enjoyed it, but we should absolutely not make it a thing,” she told him, striving for light and airy.
He folded his big arms and lifted one eyebrow. His eyes were flat now, the muscle in his jaw clenched tight. Was he irritated? Maybe.
“Why not?” he asked, sounding curious.
Wren stood up and picked up her gym bag. “I promised myself a drama and man-free summer,” she told him.
“And you equate me with drama?”
She winced. “To be fair, I equate all men with drama,” she admitted. “And I’ve had a shit ton lately. I’m trying to avoid it.”
Dane unfurled his long body and stood up. She darted a look and frowned at his now amused expression. This man, she couldn’t keep up with him. “Are you laughing at me?” she demanded, a little pissed.
He smirked. “I’m the least dramatic man you can find, sweetheart. But you obviously need an excuse to run.” He lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug and nodded at the door. “So go for it.”
Having all the wind taken out of her sails, Wren did a half-shrug, half-nod combo—so not cool—and hurried across the studio to the door. She was doing the right thing, she assured herself. Theonlything. She had to pull back, get a handle on her scattered thoughts, and focus on the rush. The glitter. The glorious beginning.
She didn’t trust herself, or anyone, with what came after.
“That doesn’t mean I’m not gonna run after you, Wren,” Dane said as she was about to step out.
Oh…
Oh,shit.
ChapterEight
Aweek later, Wren and Hadley approached downtown H-Town, and Wren placed her hand on her heart. Her godmother might be a loon, but she and her fellow worker bees knew how to throw an event. The main road was closed, and the ice cream vendors—from every corner of the state and beyond—had parked their trucks and carts next to Blackweather Green. There were also a few trucks selling food, and close to the bandstand was a pop-up beer garden, aptly named Boos and Brews. The massive banner across the road welcomed all to the “Ice Scream Spooktakular.”
In the fading light, orange and purple lights twinkled above their heads, drifting diagonally across the road from one lamppost to another, turning the fake cobwebs wrapped around the posts an eerie color. Wren inhaled the smells of rich dairy, caramel, and chocolate, and grinned when a fog machine puffed blue-gray smoke onto the road to curl around the ankles of the many, manypedestrians.
Wren spotted Tad and Gina, two of her kids from dance class, heading toward them. The couple had their hands tucked into the back pockets of each other’s denim shorts—Gina’s barely qualified as clothing—and their usual flock of followers trailed behind, desperate to catch a little of their golden sparkle.
“Ugh,” Hadley whispered, “here comes H-Town’s prince and princess.”
Wren shot her favorite person a smile. “That bad, huh?”
Hadley shrugged. “Tad’s nice, but Gina is a pill,” she stated.
“She’s a bully?”
Hadley thought about that for a moment. “Not like … classically evil or whatever. She’s just totally oblivious. Have youheardthe way she talks to her friends—and Tad—when they don’t nail a step the second you show it? Or when someone messes up? She’s brutal.”
Wren had, actually. It wasn’t bad enough for her to intervene—yet—but she was keeping her eye on the situation.
“She isn’t…”—Hadley searched for the word—“kind.”
Kudos to Hayes for raising a kid whose highest value was kindness. She wrapped her arm around Hadley and gave her a quick hug. God, she loved this kid.
