Chapter 6
Chapter Six
SKYLA
I love recital night.
Granted, there will never be anything that compares to dancing with Mikhail after months and months of grueling work on a world-class New York City stage in front of a sold-out auditorium. That’s something I’ll miss forever and will live in my heart until I take my last breath.
But seeing all of these wee darlings in their pretty costumes excited to dance for their loved ones takes second place.
Some of them freeze up on stage and don’t do anything at all, and others—like Bee’s niece, Birdie—know every single step and keep the crowd spellbound.
Honestly, I never know how the evening will go, but it’s never boring.
Now that the show is over, parents are grouped in the studio, chatting with friends about their children’s dance, school, or what’s happening in town. I’ve spent time answering questions but want to check on Riley backstage.
“You didn’t even sit with the audience,” I say to Connor as I find my brother standing beside Riley.
“Riley needed company.” He shrugs. “And I could see everything from back here. Not to mention, every chair was taken, which is a good thing. It means business is good.”
Okay, he has a point. All the seats were filled, and that made me happy.
“Still. It wouldn’t have killed you to stand in the back.”
“I own this place, too, you know. I can stand wherever I bloody like.”
“Right.” I roll my eyes. “Would you like a plaque on the bleeding door announcing that you own the building?”
He tips his head to the side, considering it. “Actually, yes. I would like that.”
“Skyla, I just wanted to chat for a second before I head out?—”
That’s Bee’s voice, but before I turn to greet my friend, Connor’s eyes narrow behind his glasses, taking in the woman behind me.
And when I turn around, I see that Bee has gone sheet white.
Holy shite, her mystery man really was my brother. I had a feeling, but Connor had left town before their night together.
Or so I thought.
I need information.
“Bee …” I take her hand in mine, linking our fingers, but her hazel eyes are round and cling to Connor’s face. “This is my older brother, Connor. He came in from Ireland to see the show. Connor, this is Billie, my very good friend. She’s bloody brilliant.”
“Connor.” Her cheeks have flushed, and now her eyes don’t look surprised.
They look a little angry.
“Hello,” Connor says, keeping his voice mild. But I saw the look on his face when he first saw her, so I know he’s not unaffected. “Excuse us, Skyla. I’d like to have a word with your friend.”
“I’m just?—”
“Come.” He takes her by the elbow and leads her out the back door. Before I can run after them, I hear someone clear their throat behind me.
And I can feel his gaze.
His.
Beckett’s. The man who sat in a seat too small for him and watched his niece with the sweetest, softest smile on his face, then watched me for the rest of the performance. His eyes on me felt like a warm blanket, cuddling me close, if that blanket was plugged into an outlet and firing off sparks.
The man who’s lived in my daydreams and regular dreams, if I’m being honest, all week.
I turn, and the smile that comes is easy because Beckett Blackwell is every cowboy fantasy I’ve ever had. Not that I really considered having cowboy fantasies before I moved to Montana. And when he smiles back at me, I fear I’ll pass out. I swear to the gods that he pulled all the oxygen from the room.
“It’s good to see you again,” he says. It seems that my tongue has been glued to the roof of my mouth. He steps closer, not close enough to let me feel his warmth, but I have to tip my head back to see his handsome face.
I want to push my fingers through his whiskers. They look soft, and my skin itches to feel his face, but I ball my hands into fists at my sides and keep my smile, trying to remain professional while praying that he can’t see that my nipples are suddenly as hard as bloody stone.
“I know Birdie was excited that the whole family came, along with her friends and their parents as well.”
Beckett nods slowly and firms his jaw. “Does that mean it’s not good to see me again?”
Of course, he paid me a compliment, and I replied with something about his niece.
I’m not good at this.
With a frown, I drop my gaze to his chest, which is eye level to me, and feel my heart skip a beat. He’s a damn brick wall. So wide and hard and I’m sure the muscles beneath that black Henley are impressive.
I can see the outline of them through the soft cotton, and I want to touch him.
I’ve never wanted to get my hands on a man the way I do this man.
The Arsehole was sexy, too, you idiot.
“It is nice to see you,” I reply and press my lips together. “I was happy when I spotted you in the audience.”
“I was honestly surprised when I discovered you own this place.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “It was a good surprise. Birdie loves you. She talks about her dance class all the time.”
“She’s a beautiful girl,” I reply with a small laugh. “So full of energy. I enjoy her very much, and she’s an excellent dancer.”
“I know there are other people here for you to talk to,” he says after his eyes take a journey over my face as if he’s memorizing me. “I won’t monopolize your time. But I will put myself out there again and ask for your number.”
Beckett is tempting. Handsome. Sinfully sexy. And if I’m being honest with myself, I want nothing more than to spend time with him. But…
“And you’re going to say no,” he continues before I can answer him. “I can see it written all over your pretty face.”
“Beckett, I?—”
Before I can complete that thought, Bee comes storming through, her face flushed and eyes bright. She doesn’t make eye contact or say a word as she stomps past us, through the studio, and right out the front door.
“Uh, I’d better go see if my sister’s okay.” Beckett frowns. Then his gaze shifts just over my shoulder, and his eyes narrow. “And you are?”
“Connor.” I step aside so my brother can offer his hand to shake. “Skyla’s brother.”
Beckett takes Connor’s hand, but his jaw is tight. “You the reason my sister looks like she’s ready to punch her fist through the wall?”
“It’s likely.”
What in the world?
“Do I need to punch you ?” Beckett asks.
“I appreciate the sentiment because I’d feel the same in your shoes, but no.”
Beckett nods, and his eyes fall to mine. “Skyla.”
“Beckett.”
And with that, he turns to follow Bee.
“What did you do?” I ask, immediately turning to my brother and poking him in the chest, making him scowl at me. “Wait. I know what you did. I’ve heard stories.”
“Really? Do tell.” His lips curl up into a satisfied grin, and I shake my head.
“Absolutely not because now I know they’re about you. ” Ugh. That makes me a little nauseous. “If you fucked up my friendship with that woman, I’ll never forgive you, Connor Declan Gallagher. She’s a good person, and she’s been kind to me, and I care about her deeply.”
“Nothing’s fucked up,” he assures me. “Well, between you two, anyway.”
“I can’t believe you.”
Connor shakes his head, seemingly unfazed by my wrath. “Go finish up with the parents so we can get out of here.”
“You can go. I have Riley.”
“And I have a security detail with weapons. That trumps Riley. I’ll wait.”
I blow out a breath, then return to mingle with the remaining parents.
No, this was definitely not a boring recital night.
* * *
“Have a good flight.” I hug Connor, then wave to Miller, who’s standing by the open back door of the black SUV waiting to take my brother to the airport.
He scratches Riley behind the ears, then grabs his briefcase. Connor usually wears slacks and a button-down, if not a whole suit, but he’s in jeans and a T-shirt today, which throws me off a bit.
“Why are you so casual, by the way?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “It’s a flight, not a board meeting.”
“You usually wear clothes that would fit a board meeting.”
He smirks. “Because I’m usually coming from one. Today’s casual.”
“And you are leaving town, right? You’re not off to whisk my best friend off for some…I can’t even complete that sentence.”
“I’m leaving.” He narrows his eyes. “And the rest is none of your concern, Skyla Maeve Gallagher.”
“She’s—”
“None of your business. I mean it.”
I huff, but he stalks off to the car. Riley and I watch as he climbs inside, and I wave as the car drives away.
“None of my business, my arse,” I mutter to Riley, who watches me with his expressive, seemingly concerned eyes. “She’s our best mate in this town, so that means it’s my business. We’ll stop by the bookshop on our way to the studio.”
I want to dance today. I don’t always anymore. Not only did I dance every day before, but I also danced for eight to ten hours a day while gearing up for a specific performance.
These days, I dance a few times a week. It’s a great workout, and I want to make sure that my muscle memory doesn’t fade. I know I don’t need it for anything specific, but it’s mine all the same, so I’ll hang on to it for as long as I can, even if my ankle doesn’t want to cooperate.
Will I ever let the anger go regarding my injury? The circumstances surrounding it? The bitterness and helplessness that I still feel deep down in my soul?
I don’t know.
“Let’s not dwell, Riley.” I grab my handbag and set the alarm system on the house, using the new code Connor insisted I implement. Then Riley and I head into town. I park at my studio and walk the few blocks over to the bookshop, where I’m sure to find Bee.
And sure enough, she’s stocking copies of the new Catherine Cowles novel on a shelf.
I’ll be picking up one of those before I leave.
Billie looks lost in thought, her brows pulled together in a frown. She always dresses as if she’s ready for a killer date or an important meeting, and today, she’s in a red dress with black heels that could likely maim a man. Her hair is twisted back in a braid, and she’s wearing a pretty necklace that falls between her breasts.
I’d kill for this woman’s breasts. Billie has curves in all the right places, and I have a ballerina’s body. Painfully slim, and no boobs to speak of.
“Hey there,” I say softly and still manage to startle the poor woman, who drops a book, then cringes when she sees the cover got bent. “Sorry, I’ll buy that copy. I was going to buy one anyway.”
“No, it’s my fault for not paying attention.” She slides the book on the shelf with the others. “It’s been slow in here today, so I’m just restocking and tidying up.”
“I like the new display by the front door.”
She nods, lets out a gusty breath, then props her hands on her curvy hips. “I don’t want things between us to be awkward.”
“It’s glad I am to hear you say that because I don’t want that either. It would be the worst thing ever. Do you need me to disown him? I could probably piss him off somehow. Make life hard for him, at the very least.”
She smiles, and her shoulders sag in relief. Then she lets out a big laugh and pulls me in for a hug, and I know that everything will be okay.
“The moment I saw him at the recital was maybe one of the most surreal moments of my life,” she admits as we walk over to my favorite chairs and take a seat. Riley curls up on the dog bed next to me. “I kind of wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.”
“I can only imagine. I suspected when you first told us about it that it could be Connor from the way you described him, but I swear to you, Bee, as far as I knew, he’d left that previous afternoon.”
“I think he was supposed to, but then we got that snowstorm, and he ended up staying another day.” She bites her lower lip and stares outside.
“Was he an arse when he pulled you outside?”
She doesn’t immediately answer. Instead, she looks down at her hands, then over at me, and her cheeks flush again.
“I don’t want to know this, do I?”
Bee laughs. “I’m absolutely not starting something with your brother.”
Bristling at that, I square my shoulders. “Now, why not? He’s handsome, and successful, and you said the sex was decent?—”
“Not decent.” She shakes her head. “I think he pulled my soul out of my vagina.”
I press my lips together, then double over laughing. “That paints a picture.”
“I kind of like keeping him in that little one-night bubble. A happy memory that I can pull out and look at once in a while, then tuck back away. I have a business, and a family, and all kinds of things to see to here, and while your brother is all of the things you described, he’s also not here. ”
Connor never confirmed to me whether he was going to buy the ski resort to rebuild, so I don’t want to say anything out of turn to my friend.
“He’s not here,” I confirm.
“So now I just know who it was.” She shrugs and changes the subject. “Now, tell me about you and Beck.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“And what’s wrong with my brother?”
An image of Beckett and his lust-filled eyes dropping down to my mouth fills my mind, and the zing zips down my spine, just as it’s done the previous million times I’ve thought of it.
“I don’t know him at all, but from what I can see, there’s nothing wrong with him.”
“I know him very well,” she says. “And aside from being a little—and by a little, I mean a lot—alpha and bossy, he’s a catch. Then again, he has to be bossy because he owns the ranch, runs a dairy farm, and has guest cabins. It’s good he’s an expert in controlling things.”
I nod, taking that in. “A dairy farm, is it then?”
“Yep.”
“Does he get up and milk the cows while sitting on a stool in the wee hours of the morning?”
“No.” Bee laughs at that and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s a modern operation with milking equipment. But if that breaks down for any reason, he does do the milking by hand. Or he has his employees do it. He supplies Millie with all of her cow and goat milk for the coffee shop, and you can buy it, along with ice cream, cottage cheese, and sour cream at the local grocery stores.”
“That’s fascinating.” I mean it. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who owns a dairy farm. “No cheese?”
“Not enough cows for the cheese. And he’d need a bigger processing system.” Billie uncrosses and recrosses her legs. “Now, I won’t push Beck on you ever again. But he likes you.”
She winks at me, and my cheeks heat.
Because the truth of it is, I like him, too.
* * *
I need to dance. I have an hour before my first class for the afternoon, so with Riley on his bed by the door, I cue up my favorite music from Giselle and begin stretching. Using the barre, I dip into a plié and sigh when my body loosens. The muscles take over as if they have a mind of their own. Pulling my leg up until I’m one smooth, vertical line, I point my toes and stand here for a few long seconds.
Lost to the music, I move, watching myself in the mirror. I need to raise my chin and straighten my left arm a little more.
I’m so out of practice.
Mik would be disgusted.
This is when he’d lift me, my arms would wrap around his shoulders, and our mouths would be just inches apart, as if in a lovers’ embrace. This dance is passionate and intimate.
Romantic.
No one in that audience would believe Mik didn’t love me with the fire of a thousand suns. He’s such a talented performer.
I can almost hear the applause from the audience, the gasp when he lifts me high, and then the emotion radiated back to us when the song ends, and we’re locked in an embrace.
I run the music back and do it again and again until I feel loose and my form is perfect. My feet don’t love the new blisters, but that’s part of the art of it.
For the next hour, I can get lost in this piece of myself that I love so much. I can pretend that I’m still a prima ballerina, that I live in New York and see Mik every day. I can eat at my favorite restaurants, and I don’t have a crazy man determined to keep me terror-stricken.
Everything is as it was before , when I escape into the movement. God, I love it.
I jolt awake.
Something doesn’t feel right.
Is there someone in the flat? Connor’s in Milan.
I reach for my phone. “Oh, feck, where is it?”
Slam.
“Oh God …”
And I’d do anything to have it back, just for one day. For one performance.
For one moment.