8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Alyssa
I stood in the grocery store checkout line and redid my mental math. What was the state tax here? I’d tried to look it up, but my phone battery died before the page loaded.
In my wallet was my last ten dollars before I got paid tomorrow. In my hands were a box of tampons, two chocolate bars, and a bag of apples. If I did my math right, I’d have just enough.
Now that I was at the checkout, I questioned whether I could have waited one more day.
Did I need all of this? None of these were necessities for today.
The opportunity to shop at an actual grocery store was a luxury, and I enjoyed looking around to see how the store was organized, what was a novelty and what was common.
As everyone in line stepped forward, I rocked back on my heel and considered putting the chocolate bars back. What if I didn’t have enough? My back brushed against someone else, and I glanced over my shoulder, an apology at the forefront of my mind, and froze. “Oh,” I said. “Hi.”
Of course Pasha would be at the grocery store in this two-bit town Mia had added at the last minute.
The Mending Hearts Tour was promoted as a four-corners-of-America tour, but in reality, Mia was skimming the edge of the country.
This was our only interior performance, and I suspected they’d added it to satisfy her hardcore Midwest fans who stirred up a social media storm when they felt left out of the party.
“Hello,” Pasha said with a nod, the corners of his lips tipping up with the hint of a smile.
Warmth spread unbidden in me. Why was that acknowledgment, the hint he might be happy to see me, thrilling?
Tension sprung up between us. We’d spent the last week doing extra rehearsals, squeezing them in between his guarding shifts.
Our sessions were going well as long as I didn’t come into any physical contact with him.
I could demonstrate, give him verbal instructions, pass him an iPad for videos of other dancers breaking down the steps, but there was no more shadowing, no more rough hands on my hips.
I glanced in his basket. Enough protein bars to feed a large bear and some chocolate milk, which I’d noticed was on sale, but it hadn’t been a necessity with the little money I had.
When it was my turn, I stacked my items on the conveyor belt, silently cursing my large box of super-absorbent tampons.
I couldn’t remember the last time I was embarrassed about my period, but right now, with him in line behind me, so big and so silent, I wanted to throw the box down the aisle and pretend I wasn’t really a woman.
“Eleven dollars and eighty-five cents,” the cashier said. “Did you want a bag? It’s an extra charge.”
“No bag,” I mumbled as I dug out my ten dollars and sent up a silent prayer that I had enough loose change to complete the transaction.
After I’d emptied my wallet and searched the bottom of my purse, I eyed my items. My cheeks were on fire.
I was over a dollar short. The chocolate. I’d sacrifice the chocolate .
From behind me, two dollars were thrust toward the cashier. “Here.” Pasha’s voice was gruff.
The cashier snatched up the bills before I had a chance to protest. Using my hair as a shield, I mumbled, “Thank you.” I left the change for him and gathered my items, hurrying out the automatic door into the waiting warmth.
Once I was outside, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting the summer breeze wash over me. So embarrassing . The last few days before I was paid were tense every month, a balancing act between my wants and needs.
With a sigh, I headed down the street toward the venue and hotel, which was almost two miles away, just beyond the town limits.
For expediency, and since it was a stripped-down show, the buses had been left behind in favor of the private plane.
We’d all piled on, and a choreographer was showing up this afternoon to modify our stage show for the smaller space.
The pressure to perform had never bothered me, and the chance to learn some new moves was a jolt of caffeine after months of the decaffeinated routine.
I adjusted the items in my hands, wishing I’d been able to afford a bag. An awkward walk back wasn’t on my list of fun things to do today. Tomorrow, I’d have to bring two dollars to my dance session with Pasha. Another less-than-fun thing to add to my to-do list.
Beside me, a black car appeared in my peripheral vision and then rolled along, keeping pace. Men of all ages often tried to get my attention, so I faced forward and ignored the car. I wasn’t in the mood today to rebuff someone or to play nice. Were leggings and a tank top that sexy?
“Alyssa,” Pasha called .
His voice startled me, and I had to juggle the items in my hands to keep from dropping something.
If I’d had a spare hand, I’d have clutched my chest. He hadn’t scared me, exactly.
I knew someone was following, but he so rarely said my name, as though he avoided using it, hearing his accent dig into the syllables was an electrical shock.
“It’s a long walk back. Get in.”
I shifted the apples higher into my arms. No, thanks . That was all I needed to say, and I was sure he’d drive on. He wasn’t the type to push an issue, to force his company on anyone.
“Um,” I said, turning to check out his fancy black BMW. Was it a rental? Had Mia rented it for him? Why did their closeness grate on me so much? “That’d be great. Thanks.”
As I climbed into the passenger seat, I arranged my items on the floor to block the tampon box. Why did I care if he saw it? Childish. Stop caring! “I’ll get you the money tomorrow. Thanks for that.”
His hands clenched around the steering wheel. “No, no, no. No need.”
“I get paid tomorrow. I mean, you probably get paid tomorrow, so you know that…”
A frown sprouted on his face. He glanced at me and then focused on the road again. A question grew between us. I didn’t need to invite him into my confidence, and I wasn’t sure I wanted anyone other than Mia to know how I’d been deceived.
“What are you wondering? I can feel a question coming,” I said.
He grimaced. “Does Mia—does she not pay you well?”
Heat rose to my cheeks again. I should have known this would be the question.
Mia paid quite well, and her promptness in paying was one of the reasons I targeted her for another tour.
There were no forgotten checks, no bounced payments, no late checks cut.
I hadn’t been sure if it would be the same without Laura’s rigidness, but the tour was still tight, well-run.
“She pays fine. You know that.” I should leave it at that. “I just have some debts I’m trying to pay down, so most of my money goes there.” My mouth would not stop talking. I needed to zip it closed or give it something else to do.
“House?” Pasha asked, his shoulders easing. We’d been spending quite a bit of time together, and his body language was easy to read, even if I had no idea of the specifics in his head.
I laughed and took an apple out of the bag at my feet. The hotel was ahead, but I thought the parking was around the back. I could delay and not answer. I bit into the apple and chewed.
“I have a house, but those aren’t the payments putting me down to the wire each month. Let’s just say my ex-boyfriend screwed me in more than one way.” The apple had not kept my mouth busy enough.
He winced, and his knuckles on the steering wheel whitened. “He stole from you?”
“Kind of. Well, yes. I guess he did.” My house hadn’t been empty when I went to my sister’s for a visit, but it had been gutted when I got back. “Mostly, he stole from the bank and left me to repay his debt.”
“Joint bank account?” He glanced at me just before he turned into an empty parking space.
Another furious blush was taking root in my cheeks. This was the part I didn’t like admitting to anyone. I hated my foolishness. “Not quite.”
I took another bite of my apple, juice running down to my chin.
I scooped it up with my finger, and the way his gaze followed the trail made my stomach dip.
The heat in his eyes licked at me, enticed me.
The attraction between us was there, muffled, as though we were both trying to smother it, but there nonetheless. “Joint credit card.”
His eyebrows rose almost comically high. “Oh.”
“Yeah, I know. Dumb. The dumbest. If there was an award for believing dumb shit guys tell you, I’d win it. But then I’d have to pawn it because I’m still paying down the debt of the last dumb shit I listened to.”
He chuckled, and he searched my face, the smile slipping. “Bad taste in men.”
I met his gaze and took another bite of the apple, letting the fire between us warm me for the first time in over a week.
“Most of the time,” I agreed. The color of his eyes fascinated me.
A light blue, like the sky on a cloudless day.
“Not always.” My skin tingled in anticipation.
The tart taste of the apple was on my lips, ready to be shared with him.
Even a slight lean from him in my direction would provoke me to close the distance.
He broke eye contact, opened his door, and exited the car. A bucket of cold water dumped on my desire.
As though coming out of a trance, I shook my head. Close the distance? No, no, I wouldn’t because I promised I wouldn’t jump him again. Why was I so bad at resisting him? It was like the opposite of every other relationship I’d ever had with a man.
I opened my door and gathered my things off the floor.
He retrieved a bag from the backseat and, from inside, withdrew a second bag and passed it to me.
For a moment, I stared at the bag, surprised at his thoughtfulness.
Then I remembered I didn’t want to owe him more than I did already. “No, it’s okay. ”
“Take it,” he said. “Your stuff is awkward. The bag will help.” He thrust it in my direction, and the wind caught it, a sharp snap sounding as the bag filled with air.
I dropped the box of tampons, the apples, and one chocolate bar inside. When I got to the second bar, I held it out. “As a thank-you. For the money. For the ride. For the bag.” With a smile, I raised my items in the air, cradled in the plastic.
“You teach me to dance in your free time. I can’t take anything from you. I think I should pay you. Will you let me pay you?”
My mind went to all kinds of ways he could pay, and most of them had nothing to do with money.
God, my thoughts were absolutely out of control.
It wasn’t like he was the most attractive man in the world, but some sort of pheromone cocktail was at work.
Even now, as I stood a few feet away from him, the breeze caught his tangy cologne and propelled it toward my nose.
Two steps and I’d be in his arms, our lips meeting, my body pressed to his.
A sigh was perched at the back of my throat at the thought.
I shook my head and held out my hand with the chocolate bar. “No, I can’t take your money. If you dance well, it makes me look good to Mia and whoever else sees it. Win-win.”
He held my gaze for so long, I started to squirm. I was used to the sparks igniting between us, but he was going beyond that now, trying to read me, to know me. “I will find some way to pay you.”
I flushed at the options that had already run through my dirty mind before I could dismiss them.
Tonight, after the concert, I was going to the hotel bar and sleeping with the bartender or a server or someone of the male persuasion.
Satisfying myself wasn’t working. Someone else’s hands might be a better bet.
The realization I could find a man without a problem released some of my pent-up tension.
Relax . He’s not the only guy in town .
“Sure, you can find a way,” I agreed with a saucy grin. “You do that. Maybe you’ll find something I want more than accolades.” And money—I really did need money.
He returned my grin and led us toward the lobby. “Something you want more than accolades and money. I will have to put on my thinking cap.”
In my mind, I pictured him putting on a cap to gather his thoughts, and the idea widened my grin. “You need a cap to think?”
“All the best ideas come from the thinking cap.” He tapped the top of his head as he opened the hotel door and ushered me inside.
“Well,” I said, allowing myself to enjoy the conversation, the flirtation for a moment. “I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”