Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
Swayze
A week later, I found myself back in the community theater, surrounded by people who were also waiting to find out what show we were doing.
I gathered the Sasspatch Society was foregoing auditions entirely, which was the nuttiest thing I could imagine around a theater production, but it was a small town, and I guessed they were aware of who had the talent and who didn’t.
Didn’t seem like anyone would dare argue with them either way.
I scanned the room and spotted several familiar faces—Blair, Adalyn, Gunner, Dean, and a whole lot of others I didn’t recognize.
Big, strong hands curved around my waist. I hummed in pleasure as Colter pulled me back against him.
“Did I miss the announcement? It took me a little longer to get loose than I thought it would.”
The rumble of that voice in my ear did things to me that had added to the fantasy roll currently running in my dreams. We’d spent as much time together as we could over the past week, around his work and mine, and his parenting duties.
There’d been plenty of making out and so much talking, getting to know each other.
But we hadn’t gone further. I wasn’t sure how much of that was a matter of respect and how much was Colter being gun-shy after his experience in high school.
I sure as hell didn’t blame him for that.
I appreciated the caution. But I needed a whole lot more of that mouth and those hands.
Dragging my head back from the precipice of lust, I relaxed against him. “No. They haven’t actually called anything to order yet.”
“Good. I was banking on that. I’m gonna go say hi to Uncle Dee. Come with me?”
“Sure.” He was still technically on duty and had only gotten loose for this announcement meeting, so I was happy to stay close as long as I could.
We made our way to the stage, where Dee was in deep conversation with Miss Glory, Miss Bea, and Monique.
Miss Bea waved a sheaf of papers. “I’m just saying we need to be realistic about the timeline. The costumes alone—”
“Are going to be fabulous, darling, because you’re a genius,” Miss Glory interrupted. “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”
Monique adjusted glittering cat-eye glasses. “The social media campaign needs to start yesterday if we want to build buzz. I’ve already drafted three different teaser concepts.”
“You haven’t even told anyone what we’re doing yet,” Dee pointed out.
“Exactly. Mystery generates engagement.”
Colter cleared his throat, and all four of them turned toward us with expressions that ranged from knowing smirks to outright delight.
“Well, well,” Miss Glory drawled. “Look who decided to grace us with their presence.”
Heat crept up my neck. A huge crowd had witnessed our kiss on Christmas Eve, and those townsfolk who hadn’t been there in person had been told all about it.
I still hadn’t quite gotten used to the knowing looks.
It was an entirely new kind of being in the public eye, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
Dee’s grin softened as he took us both in. “Glad you two could make it. We’re about to get this circus started.”
“Any hints?” Colter asked.
“And ruin Monique’s mystery marketing strategy? Absolutely not.”
Miss Bea consulted her phone. “We’ve got about five more minutes before—”
“Not to tell you how to run things, but I’m on a limited time clock tonight. Chief won’t let me be gone from the station for too long,” Colter warned.
“Fair enough,” Dee conceded. “We’ll be getting started here in just a few.”
“Before you do, JP sends his regards,” I added.
Dee’s hands faltered, and an unmistakable blush hit his cheeks. “Oh, well, please send mine back.”
“What’s going on with you two?” I didn’t manage to stop myself from asking the question.
“Nothing but a little flirtation,” Dee protested.
There’d hardly been time for anything else before JP returned to New York. But I had the sense from both of them that, should the opportunity present itself, they were interested in a whole lot more than a little flirtation.
I hummed a noncommittal sound and returned his knowing look. “I’ll tell him you said hello.”
Miss Glory strode to the center of the stage and lifted her velvety voice. “Fellow thespians, please find your seats, and we’ll get started.”
Colter and I nabbed a spot on the front row. I loved how he automatically laced his fingers with mine, stroking his thumb along the back of my hand, like he couldn’t stop himself from touching me.
I liked men, and I’d enjoyed more than a few over the years, but it had been a very, very long time since I’d wanted anyone quite as much as I wanted Colter.
Maybe it was his restraint. Being forced to wait and anticipate.
But I suspected it was a whole lot more than just the man himself.
He was so damned appealing. Sexy, for sure.
But it wasn’t simply that he was physically attractive.
He was a truly good man. I never would have imagined going for a single dad, but seeing him in that role, unapologetically adoring his daughter, being a family man who could absolutely be counted on—well, that was a whole lot more attractive than I’d ever considered it could be.
Add to that, his kid truly was delightful, and I knew I was on the cusp of something far more than the casual flings and relationships I’d had in the past. I hadn’t been looking for that, but I wasn’t running away.
That said a hell of a lot.
Miss Glory clapped her hands. “Okay, we know you’re all eager to hear what musical we’re putting on as the library fundraiser.”
“There was considerable debate,” Miss Bea intoned.
“Dare we say, a near throw-down,” Dee said.
“Well, that might have been over the snacks. It was the last cheese rose on the charcuterie tray,” Monique confessed, which caused a chuckle to ripple through the crowd.
“But we finally settled on Mamma Mia!” Miss Glory announced.
As cheers rose up around the room, I relaxed. I knew the show. I’d played Sophie my senior year of high school—the last time I’d been on stage in any formal way.
“I was expecting you to say it was the summer of 1963.” Not that I’d have complained about playing Baby to Colter’s Johnny, but I preferred those sessions remained… private.
“Oh, we considered it, sugar, but that felt a little too on the nose,” Miss Bea admitted.
Well, thank heaven for small mercies.
“Without further ado, let us talk parts, darlings. Of course, Swayze shall be our Donna and Colter our Sam,” Dee said.
Well, they had said they thought we should be the leads, so this shouldn’t be a real surprise, but it was a shift to go from having been the wide-eyed ingenue who’d only wanted to meet her father to being the jaded mom who’d forgotten how to dream.
Then again, given how my life was going, maybe I wouldn’t have to reach so deep to connect with Donna after all.
“Blair is our Tanya,” Monique announced.
Blair flipped her long, blonde hair. “Naturally.”
They continued down the list, handing out parts. Adalyn as Rosie. Gunner as Sky. Bristol as Sophie. A guy I didn’t know as Harry. Dean as Bill.
“Seriously?” Adalyn muttered in a tone that made me wonder if she’d pull out of things just to avoid him. I wondered what the story was there.
I didn’t know the rest of the cast, but they all seemed to be present and accounted for.
“Now, let’s talk about rehearsal schedules,” Miss Bea began.
Colter shifted beside me, pulling his phone from his cargo pants pocket. “Sorry to interrupt, but I gotta go. Being paged back to the station. Text me the details. I’ll do my best to coordinate my schedule around rehearsals.”
“Go save lives. We’ve got you covered,” Dee assured him.
With a quick squeeze of my hand, he headed back to work.
I settled back into my seat, trying to focus on what the Sasspatch Society was laying out for us.
They were shooting for an April opening, which seemed ambitious but doable.
Three consecutive weekends of performances—Friday and Saturday nights, with a Sunday matinee thrown in for good measure.
That would give us plenty of time to rehearse and get everything polished.
My mind wandered as they discussed logistics.
Three months. That’s what we were looking at between now and opening night.
Three whole months to figure out whatever this thing was that had started brewing between Colter and me.
The thought sent a pleasant flutter through my stomach.
Three months of rehearsals, of working closely together, of stolen moments and lingering glances.
Three months to see if this attraction was just surface-level chemistry or something that could actually go somewhere real.
I didn’t hate that timeline one bit. Not even a little.
“We’ll be talking set building and other details at a later date, so keep your eyes on your inbox and for the group texts with updates,” Miss Glory ordered. “Y’all are dismissed. See you at first rehearsal!”
As everyone began to split up, Blair made her way to my row. “You busy? I’m in charge of marketing for this project, and I’d love to loop you in with your graphic design skills.”
“Sure. I can talk about that.”
She looped her arm through mine. “Let’s relocate to El Paisaje. I feel meetings go so much better over margaritas.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
Twenty minutes later, we were seated at a corner table back near the bar, digging into cheese dip as the bartender mixed our frozen margaritas.
“Mmmm. Chips and cheese dip are one of the world’s most perfect foods,” Blair declared.
“It’s hard to argue against carbs and cheese.” I dipped up a big glob and stuffed it in my mouth.
“Is it still a favorite, even after all the traveling you did?”
I promptly choked on the chip and had to reach for my water. Eyes streaming, I finally managed to clear my throat. “What?”
“I mean, you did a lot of food coverage in the past on your various channels. Lots of good stuff.”
My blood ran cold. Blair knew who I was. Who I’d been. Was that what this meeting was really about? Calling me out on my lies of omission about my background?
“I ate a lot of delicious food from a lot of cultures in a lot of places,” I said carefully.
“You have a real gift for showing the best sides of whatever you decide to cover.”
A wave of dizziness washed over me as the blood drained from my face. The arrival of the server with our margaritas gave me a few more moments to try to figure out what to say as panic skittered through me.
“I never set out to mislead anyone. Everything I ever covered, I did in good faith. Because I believed in those people or products or causes. I’m aware that’s too little, too late, but I—”
Blair reached out to lay a hand over mine.
“Sugar, stop. I’ve gone about this all wrong.
I’m not blaming you. I don’t think you’re responsible for the actions of a company that most certainly wouldn’t have given you factory tours before offering you sponsorship.
You were duped just like everybody else. ”
Duped. The word made me wince. But it wasn’t wrong.
I took a big sip of my margarita and almost got brain freeze. That didn’t help a damned thing.
“Look, I’m trying to reinvent myself here in a way that has nothing to do with my influencer background.
I was so horrified by what came out about Vitalife, I just…
I went full ostrich rather than continue to face all the vitriol.
Which probably just looks like a confirmation of guilt to a lot of people. ”
“For whatever it’s worth, that’s not what I thought. And it’s probably not what a lot of other people thought.”
“I appreciate that.” I took another, smaller sip of my drink. “I haven’t told people because I’m embarrassed and ashamed. I just want to do what I can to help people. To use the skills I have, without the platform, to continue to do good. So, can you keep this under your hat?”
“Of course. I’m happy to keep this a secret. But I have a price.”
What little relief had slid through me evaporated. “What is it?” I took another bracing sip of margarita.
Her smile spread like the cat who’d gotten the canary. “You have to tell me whether Colter does, in fact, know what to do with Chekhov’s pelvis.”
I nearly did a spit-take across the table. “You’re a menace.”
She waved a hand. “I get that all the time. So?”
I thought of our first date, and the dance he’d learned almost in its entirety. He might not have taken me to bed yet, but I felt I could say with confidence, “Yes, yes he does.”
Blair nodded with satisfaction and lifted her glass. “To Chekhov’s pelvis.”
Unable to hold in a snort of laugher, I clinked my glass to hers. “To Chekhov’s pelvis.”