Chapter 15
“Well, did he treat you cruelly?”
—Gertrude Chandler Warner, The Boxcar Children
Erin’s ultra-feminine living room had light gray walls, soft pink couches, and a pastel seascape hung over a fireplace of
white painted brick. Watch curled politely beneath the blond wood coffee table displaying a trio of fat ivory candles and
a stack of brand-new hardcover romance novels.
“Those books are my treat to myself.” Erin set down a water bowl for Watch on a plastic mat under the coffee table. Watch’s
leg had healed enough that Dancy had removed his bandage. Now he propped his muzzle near the site of his old injury. “Shane
threw out my romance collection.” Erin’s The Very Hungry Caterpillar earrings swayed through the fringes of her brown hair. “All my favorite authors. I should have known then.”
“You know now, and that’s what matters.” Dancy slipped out of her ugly slides and tucked her feet under her. “This is such
a pretty house.”
“I bought it my first year as principal.” Erin sat in a small wing chair next to the couch.
She wore a short, teal green sundress with tiny white poppies, more fashionable than Dancy’s too-tight white T-shirt, which was one of Rory Garrett’s leftovers, and the refurbished gym shorts she had to keep laundering.
If she intended to stay here any longer, she needed clothes.
Erin waved her hand. “I’m not a big drinker, so I made a batch of virgin margaritas. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Virgin is perfect. I’m currently on the wagon.”
“Speaking of virgin . . .” Erin rose and disappeared through a door at the rear of the room. “I’m thinking about reclaiming
mine.”
“Reclaim your virginity?”
“Mentally. So I can get a fresh start.”
Dancy followed her into the kitchen, which was all white except for a pretty chandelier of cut-metal pink flowers with green
leaf accents and a potted orchid with a raspberry center. “Exactly how’s that supposed to work?”
“I’m figuring it out.” Erin withdrew a bubble-glass pitcher from the refrigerator. “I’m bruised right now, and it’ll take
a while, but I’m a romantic, and eventually I’d like to find a decent man. If I’m celibate for a year, don’t you think that
qualifies as having re-virginized?”
“It works for me. And then what?”
“I start over, although not in Lake Isabella.” She scooped ice into an ice bucket. Part of a cube fell to the floor, and Watch
immediately raced over to chomp on it. “There’s a limited supply of eligible bachelors here.”
Dancy sat at one of the backless counter stools. “You could play the field. Maybe troll the bars in the neighboring towns.”
“I’m not exactly an expert in bar-trolling.”
“It’s easy.” Dancy propped her bare heels on the rungs of the stool. “Buy a blond wig and wear lots of makeup so nobody recognizes
you. Also a super-slutty dress with a black push-up bra. And call yourself Alessandra.”
Erin’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s frighteningly detailed.”
“Welcome to the early days of my career.” Dancy smiled. “One of my specialties was playing women sitting on barstools trolling
for men. I even got to murder this dude with a Hello Kitty switchblade, but it turned out to be a trademark violation, and
they cut the scene.”
“You are so making that up.”
“God’s truth. I was devastated.”
Erin laughed and plunked ice cubes into chunky glasses with cobalt blue rims. “It’s an interesting plan, but it doesn’t exactly
sound like I’d attract the right kind of man.”
“Good point.”
While Watch searched the floor for more ice cubes, Erin filled the glasses. “You know what’s pathetic?” She slid Dancy’s drink
across the counter. “I keep thinking about the good times Shane and I had and forgetting what a controlling asshole he turned
out to be.”
“In other words, you’re being a typical woman.”
“I’m ashamed I let him get away with it for so long.” She led the way back to the living room.
“That’s because you’re a naturally optimistic person.”
Erin carried her glass to the wing chair she’d been sitting in earlier. “I have a confession to make. I Googled you.”
Dancy resettled on the couch. “Then you’ve seen the video.”
“At least it’s not a sex tape.” Erin gave her a mischievous grin. “Honestly, watching you fall apart made me feel so much better about myself.”
Dancy laughed at Erin’s dark humor. She’d stumbled onto a kindred spirit, and she promised herself she’d never again let anything—any
man—get in the way of her female friendships.
Erin sobered. “It had to suck seeing your ex with his new girlfriend.”
“It wasn’t seeing him that hurt.” She took a sip. Her drink was sweet and sour, with citrus, honey, sparkling water, and a
hint of heat to make it interesting. Still, she wished it were real alcohol because she’d just this moment decided to trust
Erin with the truth. “It was seeing she was pregnant that sent me over the edge. I wanted a child very much, but Roth refused.
And now . . .” She shrugged.
Erin’s pretty face contorted with outrage. “I’ll never again watch one of his movies.”
“I appreciate the support.” As Watch propped his slobbery yak on Dancy’s foot, she told Erin about the pregnancy and the miscarriage.
It still hurt to talk about what had happened, but maybe not quite as much.
Without warning, the front door opened, and Erin’s ex-partner strode in wearing a black tribal T-shirt, jeans, rope bracelets,
and the same knit beanie over his long hair. Erin jumped to her feet.
“Hey, babe.” He spoke as if nothing bad had ever happened between them.
Watch advanced on him with a low growl. The dog was an amazing judge of character.
Erin took a step back as Shane attempted to put his arm around her. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she said.
He pulled off his beanie and tossed it on a chair. “A new chapter for us. I can get a little impatient when I get stressed, but you know I don’t mean anything by it.”
“I know, but . . .”
Dancy’s skin prickled. Surely Erin wasn’t going to let this jerk back into her life?
“Let’s get away,” he said. “Maybe drive out to the Dakotas. Visit the Badlands.” Shane curled his hand around Erin’s arm and
turned to Dancy, his eyes hostile, but his voice even. “Erin and I need some space.”
Dancy wanted to eviscerate him, but she had to take her cue from Erin, who currently wasn’t looking at her.
Shane gave her his back, focusing only on Erin. “You didn’t have to get so emotional the other day, babe. Things are good
between us.” He tilted his head in Dancy’s general direction. “Your friend over there is one of Clint Garrett’s groupies. Did you know that? The football player. She’s been driving his car. I know
how important your job is to you. You need to be careful about the kind of people you associate with.”
Erin pushed away his hand. “Good advice. I want my key back.”
His face fell. “You’re overreacting.”
Erin spoke with full authority. “My key.”
He tried to reach out to her, but she wasn’t relenting.
He grew even more intense. “I’m the only one who really cares about you. I’ve shown you that again and again. All I want is
what’s best for you.”
Her hand held steady. Dancy knew what this was costing her and watched anxiously, but she wasn’t budging. Shane finally dropped
the key to the floor. “Not smart, babe. Not smart at all.”
Erin blew a shaky breath as he stormed out. She bit her lip and turned to Dancy. “Where can I buy a blond wig?”
Shane stalked to his car. Erin should have understood that his bad mood that day didn’t have anything to do with her.
He’d gotten another rejection from some asshole literary agent who wouldn’t recognize good writing if it hit her in the face.
Erin should cut him some slack. They would have worked it out if Garrett’s groupie hadn’t butted in.
God, he hated jocks. He’d been bullied by guys like Garrett ever since grade school.
And now Erin was listening to some bimbo who filled her head with bullshit about him.
He needed Erin. Every brilliant writer needed a person who kept him anchored, and for him that person was Erin. She might
not be an intellectual, but she was intelligent. She was also good in bed. And Erin needed him. He watched out for her. Mowed
her grass. Talked her down when some shitty parent tried to take advantage of her. Now who was going to do that for her?
He wasn’t giving up. Erin was going to see exactly how much she needed him. He’d make sure of it.
Not bothering with a bra, Dancy pulled on a T-shirt followed by Clint’s sweatshirt for warmth. She filled a mug with her first
cup of morning coffee, snapped on Watch’s leash so he couldn’t jump in the water, and wandered toward the lake. The night
before, she’d stayed with Erin for a couple of hours after Shane had left. Erin had been shaken but, to Dancy’s relief, showed
no sign of regret.
Ribbons of morning mist curled from the water under a pastel sky that reminded Dancy of a baby’s nursery.
The leaves in the trees barely rustled, but the birds were fully awake.
Watch sniffed at every clump of grass and growled at the squirrels.
As she went out onto the boathouse dock, he tugged at the leash, but she sipped her coffee and held on tight.
A pair of sturdy brown leather flip-flops rested at the end of the dock, along with a striped beach towel. An odd-shaped,
neon yellow life jacket, the canine life vest Clint had bought for Watch, hung from one of the oar hooks. She wasn’t the only
one who’d grown attached to the dog. Maybe Clint would take him when she left.
But she didn’t like the idea of leaving Watch behind, not even with Clint. Watch was her dog. The thought of sticking him
in the cargo hold of an airplane also bothered her, which meant she’d have to drive back to LA. Which meant she needed a car.
Which meant . . .
It was too much to think about, and she returned her attention to the lake. A distant pair of fishermen were enjoying the