Chapter 17
Aaron hadn’t been at rehearsal on Thursday night.
But he was here at Grace Christian this morning, with Isabel in tow.
As Devyn stepped into a pew near the back, the girl caught sight of her and waved.
Devyn waved back as Isabel spoke to Aaron.
Bracing, she waited for him to turn around and send her pulse off the scale again, as he’d done Tuesday night.
He didn’t.
His back remained ramrod straight, his head pointed forward.
Good.
She took her seat, the tension in her shoulders easing.
If he’d felt half the electricity she had during that brief encounter, he was smart to avoid eye contact and keep his distance.
Which could be why he hadn’t shown up Thursday night.
Playing with fire was never safe, and the sparks between them seemed poised to combust with even a tiny bit of encouragement.
That would be bad news.
In a matter of weeks she’d be gone, and a summer romance held no appeal. Those were too fraught with angst and heartbreak.
Besides, despite the electrical storm that had blazed around them, a man who’d lost his wife not long ago wouldn’t be inclined to let his common sense be undermined by what on his end was likely a loneliness-induced hormone surge.
Her end? Different story. But letting her common sense be undermined would be just as foolhardy. She hadn’t risen to the top of her profession by being undisciplined, and now wasn’t the time to change that.
Best plan? Be polite and gracious during their next encounter—and there would be a next encounter, thanks to Isabel’s involvement in the show—but keep their exchanges short and casual.
Meaning it would be smart to skip the social hour after the service and leave as fast as possible.
Armed with that strategy, Devyn gave Reverend Baker her full attention for the next hour, keeping her focus fixed on the sanctuary.
When the service wound down and the organist launched into the last song, she slipped her hymnal into the slot on the pew in front of her and scooted toward the aisle.
The minute the minister exited into the vestibule, she’d slip out the side door and escape to her car before Aaron and Isabel left their seats.
She continued singing until Reverend Baker passed by, then implemented her plan.
Sixty seconds later, she was striding toward the Focus Lauren had insisted she use. As her sister had pointed out, letting the car sit idle in the garage was silly. Lauren’s suggestion to return the rental car to the North Bend airport and Uber back had been—
Ten feet from the car, Devyn stopped. Gaped at the left front tire.
Well, crud.
How could you get a flat tire in a church parking lot?
Muttering a few choice words, she cast a glance toward the front door as a few congregants trickled out.
But most people went to the social hour .
. . Aaron and Isabel included, no doubt.
What little girl would pass up donuts and Danish?
And what father could resist a child’s plea for a Sunday morning treat?
If they’d taken a detour there, maybe she could get this fixed before they emerged.
Tackling the chore herself was out of the question, of course. She might have a driver’s license, but she’d never dealt with car issues—or even owned a car. Who needed one in New York City?
But who could she call for help on a Sunday morning?
She checked her watch.
Lauren ought to be up by now, even if she’d decided to sleep late today and skip services. Hopefully she could recommend a resource.
Angling away from the church, Devyn pulled out her cell, propped a hip against the side of the car, and called her sister’s number.
Three rings later, Lauren answered, sounding half asleep.
Devyn winced. “Did I wake you?”
“Yes. But I should get up anyway. Where are you?”
“Church.” She gave her the bad news. “Any idea who I could call?”
“Marv. At the garage.”
“Is he still running that place?” The man had been the only car repair game in town when she’d lived here, and his hair had been mostly gray back then.
“Yeah. Let me see if I can find his number. Hold on for a minute.”
A thunk came over the line, suggesting Lauren had set the phone down, followed by shuffling sounds.
Unless Marv happened to have an emergency number, however, the odds of reaching him on a Sunday were minuscule.
She’d better come up with a plan B fast or—
“Miss Devyn!”
At the familiar little girl’s voice, her heart skipped a beat.
Crud.
Her escape plan had been foiled.
Psyching herself up for a conversation she’d assumed she’d dodged, she swung around, phone pressed to her ear.
Isabel was racing toward her down the walk in front of the church, leaving her father to follow at a much slower pace.
No surprise.
He was probably as skittish about another meetup as she was after that firestorm on Tuesday.
“I saw you in church!” Isabel skidded to a stop in front of her, excitement dancing in her eyes.
“But I didn’t see you afterward. I thought you might have gone to the hall, and I asked Dad if we could too, but he said we had to go home today even though we usually stay for donuts. Now I’m glad we left.”
If she’d had any lingering doubts that he’d hoped to avoid her too, his cautious expression put them to rest as he approached. It was clear he did not share his daughter’s enthusiasm about this encounter.
He stopped a few feet away. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
Isabel hopped from one foot to the other. “Who are you talking to on the phone?”
“My sister. I had a little problem.” She motioned toward the flat tire. “She’s trying to find Marv’s number. I’m hoping he can swing by and change it if he’s available.”
Aaron’s forehead rumpled as he examined the tire. “He isn’t. He’s out of town.”
Double crud.
“Is there another garage nearby?”
“Bandon would be the closest place, but most of those shops are closed on Sunday.” He fisted his hands on his hips, shifting aside the subtly patterned sport coat that sat oh-so-well on his broad shoulders. “I’ll change it for you.”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to—”
“Devyn?” Lauren came back on the line. “I found the number. I should put this in my phone for future emergencies. Ready?”
She held up her index finger to Aaron and swiveled away. “It won’t help me. I just found out Marv is out of town.”
“Shoot. He’s my go-to person for everything car related.”
“Any other suggestions?” She kept her voice low.
“I’m not familiar with any other garages. Besides, Marv would have helped us on a Sunday because he knows me, but I doubt most other places would. You may have to ask someone in the congregation to change it for you.”
“Aaron Steele already volunteered, but I hate to take advantage of him.”
“Let him help, Devyn. Otherwise, we’ll have to leave the car there until we can round up someone tomorrow.
And I know you wanted to pick up your main dancer for the show this afternoon so you could work with her one-on-one at the fellowship hall.
Besides, look on the bright side. Aaron is a lot hotter than Marv. ”
Like she didn’t know that.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’ll see you when I see you.” The line went dead.
Taking a deep breath, she swiveled back to the father/daughter duo.
Aaron had already removed his sport coat. “If you’ll pop the trunk and hold my jacket, I’ll get this done. It won’t take long.”
She gave his pristine dress shirt and knife-crease slacks a dubious once-over. “I don’t want you to mess up your church clothes.”
“That’s what washing machines are for.” He held out his jacket.
Apparently the discussion was over. He was going to do this.
She pressed the trunk release on the key fob and took his jacket. Draped it over her arm as a hint of very masculine—and very potent—aftershave swirled around her.
Whew.
“Um, Isabel, why don’t we move back?” She took the girl’s hand. “We’ll be in your dad’s way if we stand too close.”
Maybe putting more distance between them would help her regain her equilibrium, even if she couldn’t dodge the appealing scent emanating from the jacket.
A distraction was also in order.
“Where’s your grandfather today?” She called up a bright smile and focused on Isabel.
“He’s going to the later service. Dad said he stayed up too late last night watching a show on The History Channel.”
“Do you have a favorite TV show?”
Isabel rattled off a couple of unfamiliar names, but spurred by a few questions, the girl was happy to tell her all about them.
It was hard to concentrate on the conversation, though, with Aaron only a few feet away.
And it got much harder when his dress shirt snugged across his broad shoulders and the crisp cotton stretched over impressive biceps as he wrestled the tire off.
Isabel’s father appeared to be in as good or better shape than any of the male dancers she’d been paired with, who lifted her with apparent ease during a demanding pas de deux.
“. . . do you like to watch?”
The girl’s words registered at a peripheral level, and she tuned back in to the conversation. While she’d missed most of the question, it was simple to fill in the blanks.
“I don’t have a favorite program. Back in New York, I’m busy practicing during the day and performing at night.”
“That must be exciting.”
“Being on stage is exciting, but most of the time being a dancer isn’t very glamorous. Ballet is hard work.”
“But you like it, don’t you?”
“Yes. I’ve loved ballet since I was a little girl.”
Isabel’s demeanor took on a wistful air. “I wish I could take lessons.”
“Have you ever asked your dad about that? I have a feeling he’d be happy to check into it for you.”
“Dad and Gramp talked about lessons once. But there isn’t a ballet studio in Hope Harbor. I’d have to go to Bandon or Coos Bay.”
“Those aren’t too far away.”
“I guess not.” She clasped her hands behind her. “Do you ever teach classes, Miss Devyn?”
“Sometimes I teach workshops in New York for advanced students, but not the kind of classes you’re talking about. I’m sure there are studios not far from here that have classes for younger dancers, though. Your dad could ask—”
“All finished.”
As Aaron spoke, she turned toward him. “That didn’t take long.”
“I’ve had a fair amount of practice.” One side of his mouth quirked up, and an endearing crinkle of fine lines fanned out from his eyes.
Her heart missed a beat. “I, uh, can’t believe you managed to change the tire without getting your clothes dirty. I’d be covered with grease if I’d tried to tackle this.”
“You learn a few tricks along the way.” He held out his hand for his jacket.
After inhaling another whiff of the heady scent, she passed it over.
“Dad, I’m hungry.” Isabel sidled up to him.
“Me too. Let’s go home and I’ll scramble some eggs.”
Devyn bit her lip.
She ought to offer to buy them both breakfast to thank him for bailing her out. That would be the polite thing to do.
Also dangerous.
But Isabel would be along, and it wasn’t like the Myrtle was a high-end, candlelit restaurant. At this hour on a Sunday morning, it would be filled with noise and laughter and family groups.
Before she could change her mind, she took the plunge. “I’d like to thank you for your help in a concrete way. Why don’t you let me treat you both to breakfast at the Myrtle?”
Isabel’s eyes lit up. “They have the best blueberry pancakes in the world! Can we go, Dad?”
He slid his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, eyebrows pinching. “I don’t know, honey. I have several chores to take care of today.”
“I can eat fast.”
“I can too.” Devyn gave the girl a thumbs-up. “But if today doesn’t work, no worries. I know what it’s like to have a long to-do list.” May as well give him an out. If he didn’t want to accept her offer, a thank-you note would have to suffice.
“Please, Dad.” Isabel sent him a beseeching look. “We haven’t eaten breakfast at the Myrtle in ages.”
Aaron shrugged his jacket into place on his shoulders. Adjusted his tie. Cleared his throat.
Maybe he was weighing the risk level, as she had.
“Okay.” If he had been thinking about potential peril, his capitulation suggested he’d reached the same conclusion she had. Either that or he didn’t want to disappoint his daughter again after nixing their usual Sunday donuts.
“Yes!” The girl’s face lit up. “This is going to be so much fun.”
Not for her dad, based on his wary expression.
But now that they were all committed to this impromptu meal together, may as well try to enjoy it.
And hope she didn’t end up regretting her impulsive offer.