CHAPTER 13
Valentina
M y first day with a new family always feels like a new start. Despite my experience, each family introduces unique dynamics. With Jason Sterling’s family, I still have to win him and his daughter over.
My stomach tightens as I close the car door and wave to Matthew. I glimpse the boys through the tinted windows as the chauffeur pulls away. Eden stands beside me on the sidewalk in the gray leotard and the hot-pink skirt I gifted her.
“We’re earlier than usual.” Her skirt sways as we head toward the old brick building. She’s pulled her hair into a loose ponytail.
My fingers itch to gather it into the sleek style I assume dancers wear. But we’re not at that touchy-feely stage yet.
“I didn’t want to risk being late on my first day.” I adjust my handbag and guide her toward the ramp. We don’t need to take the ramp, but we have fifteen minutes to spare. “Maybe we can wait inside if they’ve opened the doors early.”
Afternoon traffic murmurs beside us.
“Remind me what kind of dance is it again?”
Eden shrugs. “Pop. I’ve been dancing since I was five, maybe four? It was Mom’s idea.” She winces, then stiffens her shoulders. “Dad still thinks it’s my favorite thing to do.”
“You don’t want to continue?”
“There’s no time for me to try anything else.”
“Have you told your dad you’d like to try something new?”
“It’s fine.” She hurries toward the metal double doors.
In my short time around Jason, he’s proven himself a dedicated father who would do anything for his children—even hire me. I stride forward and pull open one of the heavy doors. At least, it’s unlocked.
Inside, the smells of an old building and floor polish tints the air. The space resembles a hall, its walls painted off-white. Metal folding chairs stand stacked in a tall pile to one side. In the center, about fifteen chairs form three rows, each set a considerable distance from an elevated stage where thick curtains drape the sides. Someone on the platform tinkers with a stereo.
She pivots and waves. “Hello, Eden. You’re early today.”
Eden nods and half smiles when she looks at me.
Scrambling through my purse for something to pass the time with Eden—a phone or book?—I find nothing.
“This is where you’ll sit if you want to wait.” Eden gestures to the empty chairs. “Though very few parents stay for practice.”
I sit in the front row and pat the chair next to me for her to join me until more students arrive. Maybe I can learn more about her. “What have you read recently?”
“I finished Wind in the Willows at school. I’m going to start reading one of the books you gave me next.”
“When you finish the first three books, maybe we can binge the movies.”
“I’d like that.” She swings her feet, and her black dance shoes scuffle the polished floor. “Where do we find the Chronicles of Narnia movies, though?”
“Leave that to me.” I continue with random questions. Apparently, she has a couple of friends at school, but they are as busy as she is with after-school activities and live too far from Meadowbrook for a weekend playdate.
Other students trickle in.
She stands and slants me a look. “You know you didn’t have to come.”
“I might not be a dancer, but I enjoy watching.”
“Okay.” She pivots to follow other girls and boys onto the stage. Her ponytail flips over one shoulder.
The instructor engages the students. Then Meghan Trainor’s “Better When I’m Dancing” energizes the room, and the students spread out to begin their routines.
Eden moves with fluid grace. Despite her expressionless face, her movements convey joy and freedom. Absorbed in the scene, I don’t notice the parents behind me until I hear their chatter.
I crane my neck and spot two elegant women deep in conversation. On the back row, three more women sit spaced apart from each other, each engrossed in their thoughts or devices.
The studio’s atmosphere transitions to a quieter, more reflective mood with a slower melody, highlighting Eden’s graceful movements and flexibility. Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone walking toward the seating area. I turn.
It’s not just anyone—it’s Grumps.
All heads must be turning toward him. If the dance instructor’s pause to glance his way isn’t indication enough, the subtle shift in the room’s focus confirms it.
This powerful aura surrounds him, and I can’t help but look his way. His straight posture and strong squared jaw command attention. He forks his fingers through his dark-brown hair, short on the back and sides but showing more length to the top. Although rumpled, it still looks right.
My heart stutters, ramping up as whispers flutter behind me:
“Speaking of handsome men.”
“I’ve never seen his wife here before.”
If they’ve seen him enough to comment on that, then he must come to his daughter’s practices fairly often.
His gaze lands on the stage, his face softens, and his chest puffs out. Eden seems to spot her dad, and that oh-so-sweet shy smile tips her mouth. I peek behind me again. He’s smiling the genuine smile he seems to reserve for his children alone.
When he moves to sit, he notices me, and his expression falters. His stare is potent, holding my attention, and the heat of it tingles along my skin. Electricity bounces between us, even as I refocus on the stage.
Despite the availability of empty seats, he settles into one beside me. The faint scent of eucalyptus and an expensive cologne wafts off him, and the scent warms me to the core.
He’s the definition of off-limits, everything I should avoid. Yet, my pulse dances wildly under my skin. Handsome men are no strangers in my life. So why does Jason stand apart, a thrilling and terrifying presence?
He’s not the hero from a fairy tale, not with those eyes that know too much sorrow and hide fear perhaps. And, if I learned anything from Austin, it’s never to let myself get carried away. Falling in love for me again would be getting carried away.
“You’re supposed to be with the boys.” The music barely veils his scold.
I glance at him before refocusing on the stage. “How are you today?”
I’d expected him to ask how my first day on the job is going. But I shouldn’t push my luck with this grump. “Matthew is with the boys at their practice.” I try to ignore the tension Jason brings with him. “I didn’t know you’d come. Thought Eden could use the company.”
“Matthew’s not supposed to watch the boys during soccer.”
“He didn’t mind.” I’m striving for calm the way a counselor would.
“I don’t care whether he minds or not,” he retorts.
It takes all my willpower not to turn and give him my fiercest glare. “Matthew has been working with you for four years now? If your mom trusts him with your kids, I figured you’d trust him too.”
“You asked my mom’s permission?”
That’s it. I foist off a controlled smile. “She hired me.”
His jaw clenches. “From now on, communication needs to be between us, not through my mom. She isn’t babysitting the kids anymore.”
I hold his gaze, and we stare at each other.
I might explode from internal turmoil. Still, no way am I letting him think he can bark at me whenever he feels like it. The air between us crackles with unsaid words.
“Do I make sense?” This time, his voice is a hushed whisper, and a slight softness glosses his eyes.
This man... Well, thankfully, he doesn’t make falling for him easy. The urge to unleash every pent-up thought gnaws at me. I hold back and speak through gritted teeth. “Point noted.”
Seething, I’m tempted to bolt and hail a taxi. But I can’t afford to leave such an impression. I’m here for Eden, so I won’t storm off midperformance.
His stomach rumbles.
On instinct, I reach into my purse for an energy bar and pass it to him.
He shakes his head. “No thanks.”
We sink into a strained silence. “Rewrite the Stars” starts. I recognize it from one of my favorite movies. The words remind me of Mami telling me I can rewrite our family history of unstable relationships. She’s wrong, though. I’m not going to be the one breaking our pattern.
The kids sweep across the stage. Eden is radiant when she looks at us and especially at her dad before slipping back into her routine. Despite the frost between us, I’m aware of Jason’s nearness. This warmth he radiates affects me more than I care to admit.
His stomach growls again, and I shove an energy bar onto his lap.
“Jason,” a woman calls from behind us. She waves when he turns around. “I’m Liz. Remember me?”
“Nope.”
With his curt response, I focus on the stage. I have no need to see how Jason handles the flirtation.
The woman persists. “Are you usually here once a week? I mean, I don’t come as often, but... I’ve seen you a few times.”
“I don’t keep track of how often I’m here.”
Jason dismisses her with terse disinterest. Then a wrapper crinkles. Ha! He’s tearing open the energy bar and biting into it. His intense focus, whether from disinterest or just his nature, rebuffs the woman.
Soon, his thumbs begins moving on his phone, perhaps texting or emailing.
The dance session ends. Jason stands and meets his daughter halfway as the kids leave the stage. He puts out his arms for a hug. Eden looks around, clearly shy, and goes for a quick side embrace. Perhaps she’s getting to that age of not wanting affection in front of her peers. Mom never dropped us off at school or activities. We took the bus, so I never faced those moments of hugging a parent in public.
We step aside so people can pass, but Eden jitters in place. She unfolds a flyer about the end-of-year performance.
“Wow!” Jason glances at the paper. “You get to make introductions?”
“They forced all of us to audition.” Her face falls. Apparently, her dad’s more excited than she is.
“That means you had the best presentation.” He scoops her into another side embrace.
I brave tapping her hand. “If you can dance the way you do, then introductions should be a walkover.”
Her face softens, and her chin rises. “Thanks for coming.”
“I know how hard dancing can be.”
Parents and kids swirl around us.
“You danced before?” Jason arches a brow.
“And it went down in the books as a spectacular failure,” I quip. “Nerves had me tumbling headfirst during my first performance.”
Eden laughs, and I even catch Jason’s fleeting smile.
As we leave, he mentions his earlier text to Matthew to bring the boys straight home after soccer. “You and Edie can ride with me.”
“Aren’t you going back to work?” She grips his hand.
“I thought we’d get home early tonight.” He bends to her level. His tenderness belies his gruffness with me. Then at his SUV, he opens the passenger door, and the gentlemanly act surprises me. Maybe there’s more to him than his stern facade.
He reaches back and opens the door for Eden. That softness in his movements seems reserved just for her. Once he slides into his seat, he peers over his shoulder before he backs out and starts driving. “How was school today, Edie?”
“Same as usual. Mom’s coming to Meadowbrook on spring break.”
“Your mom told you that?” Why does he sound so skeptical? His whole body seems to stiffen as he weaves through traffic. Even his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel.
“She texted.” Through the mirror, I glimpse Eden checking her phone as if making sure she got it right. “She’ll come any day during our break.”
“Of course she texted.” Jason seethes under his breath. His chest heaves, and his jaw clenches as if he’s battling with something internal. “I just don’t want you to...”
Clearly, his relationship with his ex is strained. Does he still love her? Not my business, but the unsettling of my stomach says otherwise.
For a while, the only sound is the SUV’s steady thrum and the city’s distant buzz.
Then he draws out a breath and shifts the conversation to me. “Will it still work out for you to come by on Sunday?”
“I’m planning on it.” Judy walked me through the house routine earlier today while I helped with laundry and other chores as she prepared for her trip. Although I’d thought I might stay every weekend in Meadowbrook, it seems I’m not needed unless specifically requested.
When we pull up to the house, I’m ready to make a quick exit, but Eden scooches forward in her seat and blinks shy-eyed at me. “Are you staying for dinner?”
And there I am, caught between my desire to leave and my fear to disappoint her.
Then Jason nods. “The kids will love it if you stay.”
His neutral voice says I need to remember our original arrangement.
Right, I’m here for the children, not for any personal entanglements. Maintaining this boundary helps me focus. Jason Sterling is off-limits. If we can reach a cordial understanding, that will do.