Chapter 14 #2
He stalls for a word, settling with, “beautiful.” As he says it, he pins those stunning blue eyes on mine.
The word is simple. I’ve used the adjective multiple times myself tonight. But coming from him it feels the opposite. Nothing about Sutton Stone is simple.
My tongue wets my lips, my mouth turning into a desert climate.
“We should go,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” he rasps.
“Don’t want to be late.”
“I’ll walk you two out.”
“You don’t have to.”
Sutton holds out the crook of his elbow. “If you break your neck in those shoes and miss the dance, Nellie might not ever forgive you.”
“I know how to walk in heels, Sutton.” My fingers wrap loosely around his arm anyway.
His strong fingers cover mine, sending a sharp current up my arm. “Hold on, or I’ll fuckin’ carry you.” Squeezing once, he lets go.
“Yes, boss,” I sass, gripping his bicep in acquiescence. My muscles seem reluctant to let go as we reach my car.
Sutton crosses to the back passenger side and holds the door open for his little girl. She beams up at him as he helps her tuck her skirt in so it doesn’t get caught in the door.
Not interested in entertaining his suddenly chivalrous behavior, I open the driver’s side and climb behind the wheel.
Sutton appears by my window with his signature scowl. He circles his wrist in a gesture for me to roll the window down.
“Be safe. Nellie, listen to Ms. Thompson and stay where she can see you.”
“I will, Daddy. Can we go now?”
“Yeah, can we go?” I smirk at the overprotective father clutching my open window frame.
“Call me if there’s a problem.” His blue eyes search mine. Either that or he’s trying to perfect mind control. “If anyone gives you a hard time. Either of you.”
A shiver races along my spine.
“You know I will.”
Sutton pushes off and watches until we drive off.
The elementary school parking lot is packed with cars.
The gym looks like an advertisement for a craft store.
The amount of glitter and pink and tulle would have made a younger me revolt back in middle school, when I stuck to wearing black.
That’s it. Black nails, black lipstick, black jeans, and black shoes. Specifically, Converse.
We dance the night away. Between movie tunes and kid-safe modern pop songs, a sit-down style dinner is served. The food quality is impressive, considering we’re in a decorated elementary school gym. Despite the organizers’ best efforts, the smell of sweaty children lingers.
Whitney, Bree, and I are cooling off with glasses of fruit punch, looking like three adult chaperones at a high school prom.
“I haven’t danced like this since high school,” Bree groans, rubbing her calf.
“That’s not true. I specifically remember you tearing up the dance floor at my wedding,” Whitney says.
“You might be right. Still. I’m not cut out for this anymore.”
“I’m not either. I love line dancing, but these heels are killing me.” I wiggle my painted toes for emphasis.
Whitney grabs my arm, sloshing fruit punch nearly over the rim. “Oh! That reminds me. A new country bar called The Line & Lariat just opened in Hawk Ridge. They have line dancing. We’re planning to go next weekend and want you to show us the ropes.”
I set down my cup. “That would be amazing. I have this new pair of boots I’m still trying to break in, but I haven’t found a place yet.”
“Yay!” Bree claps her hands. “Now you can. I’m glad we’ll have one pro among our ranks because most of us don’t know what we’re doing.”
I laugh. “I’ll teach you.”
“We can use the training room at the Sanctuary,” Whitney chimes in.
“I’ll just have to make sure Sutton doesn’t need me, or see if he can find cover if he needs to work overtime.”
“He doesn’t have a choice. We’re kidnapping you either way,” says Bree.
Whitney waves her hand. “He had so many people stepping in before you showed up, I’m sure he can find someone. If not, Nellie can come over to our place, and our sitter Scarlett will be happy to have her.”
Something unfamiliar spreads through my chest. A sense of belonging. An inkling that this place might be starting to feel like home.
“I’d love that.” I fight to keep my voice strong.
Nellie and her cousins flop into their chairs, filling the empty seats around our round table.
“I’m sweaty,” Lucy announces.
“Can I have juice?” Charlotte asks her mom, stealing Bree’s plastic cup.
“You want some?” I see Nellie eyeing my nearly empty glass. At her nod, I rise. “Let’s go fill yours up.”
We weave through rowdy kids on our way to the punch bowl.
“Are you having fun?”
“This is the best night ever.” The flush on her cheeks nearly matches the fruit juice. “Can we come back next year?”
The thought slithers through my mind that I most likely won’t be here next year. As well as things are going, I doubt Sutton can stomach keeping me under his roof that long.
I hand her a fresh glass of punch. “I’m sure you will.”
The exclusion of myself from my sentence goes right over her eight-year-old head.
“Can you come with us to the county fair?”
“We’ll probably have to ask your dad what his plans are first.”
Her eyes sparkle in the colorful strobes behind us. “We go every single year. I like seeing all the horses in the barn and petting the goats and cows and baby chicks. I’m sure he’ll say yes. Oh, and they have rides!” She sucks in a lungful of air. “Do you like rides?”
“The Ferris wheel is my favorite,” I tell her.
“I love the Ferris wheel too! We can go together.”
“What about your dad?” I laugh at her exuberance.
“He’ll come too. But I really like being with you, Miss Alice. It’s almost like I have a mom.”
My stomach pitches. She says it simply as if those seven words didn’t just tear my heart out. My lips part. Something rises to the tip of my tongue. Something soft. Something kind. But what can I really say? I close my mouth and soak it in, opening the door and letting in her grief.
Before I can find the right words, a little girl approaches. Her dress is sleek, without all the fluff and flair of a ball gown. I recognize her from Nellie’s dance practices. The little girl scrutinizes me from head to toe before turning her attention to Nellie.
She throws her hand out in my direction. “This isn’t your mom.”
If I hadn’t just seen her approach, I’d think she was eavesdropping on our conversation.
Nellie crosses her arms. “This is my nanny, Miss Alice.”
The girl scoffs. “You can’t bring your nanny. This dance is for moms and daughters.”
“Yes, I can.” Nellie tosses her curls behind her shoulder, pulling out an attitude I haven’t heard before. “This dance is a princess theme, and Miss Alice is the coolest princess I know.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“Well, she’s funny, for starters. And she’s nice.
She’s good at hair and makeup and stuff.
She wears cool dresses.” Nellie thrusts her hands out at my outfit as if to say see?
Then she goes on. “She has to poke herself with needles so she doesn’t get sick, and she doesn’t even cry when she does it and she’s not scared of my dad, even when he’s using his stern voice. ”
“That doesn’t mean anything.” Maddi smirks and crosses her arms as if she just scored the winning point.
“Yeah, well, she’s also going to beat up your mom!”
“Girls, girls, that’s enough. Why don’t we go back to our table?” With both hands on her back, I urgently steer Nellie away from the mean girl.
Nellie straightens her shoulders and walks with her chin high to her seat. Before we reach the others, I turn her back around.
“Nellie, honey, you can’t tell someone I’m going to beat up their mom.”
“But you said that to Jeremiah about his mom, and he stopped being mean.”
I purse my lips. “Yes, that’s true, but Jeremiah’s mom wasn’t there. Maddi’s mom is somewhere in this room, and I don’t want to have to fight her and get us kicked out.”
“Oh, I didn’t think about that.”
“Fighting is bad. You should forget I ever said I was going to beat up Jeremiah’s mom.”
Her face scrunches adorably. “No way. That was the coolest thing I’ve ever heard.”