Chapter 3
Chapter Three
OLIVIA
“Why do your shoes look like breadsticks?”
“But why do you dance on your toes?”
“Does it hurt?”
“Then why do you do it?”
“How do you make your skirt stick out?”
“Can I make my skirt stick out?”
And for her seventh question, the perfect, angelic little girl sitting criss-cross applesauce in front of Olivia asked, “Do you barf when you spin real fast?”
That…is a new one.
Olivia bit back a laugh. It was an honest question, and she liked honest people. “Thankfully, no.” She explained how she picked a spot on a wall when she turned so she wouldn’t get dizzy.
She turned gently en pointe on the small stage in Bookish, the new bookstore in her hometown where she’d wrapped up story hour a little while ago. The class sign-up had been a success after she’d read Baby Bunny Ballerinas and answered about ten thousand questions.
Olivia slowly turned. “This is called a pirouette. I have to do lots of them in a row sometimes, but I also like turning slowly.”
Olivia slowly expanded her arms back and forth, as if she was swimming as she slowly came out of the pirouette.
Her eyes drifted to the bookstore entrance, and she was shocked to find a hulking man seething at her.
Something made her chest ache as she looked at him. Jeez, did someone punch me mid-pirouette?
He was handsome, if a little…terrifying.
A lock of longish dark hair fell across his forehead, looking like he’d run his hands through it in frustration a thousand times that day.
His beard was a sexy dark stubble along his jaw.
His give-no-shits punk band t-shirt hugged tight around bulky, thick muscles, and a chain ran from his belt to his wallet.
Heavy work boots complemented his car grease-stained gray jeans.
He had an aura of an everyman who worked with his hands.
His nose was a little crooked—from a fist fight, maybe?—that gave way to thick eyebrows furrowed at her. There was a thick brutish quality about him. Muscular thick thighs, arms that didn’t look defined in a gym but rather by necessity. He was manly, and raw, and really, really hot.
Jagged, complex black tattoos covered his thick arms. Skulls and metal band logos were etched into his skin.
They ran down his hands and onto his thick knuckles and up onto his neck.
Like his armor against the world was slowly growing all over his body.
Spiky vines and thorns to keep others the fuck out.
At least he could handle commitment.
He crossed his arms, scowling deeper, still staring at her.
Is he here to rob the store?
Is he here to rob me?
He looks like he’s literally growling under his breath.
She’d never been into bro-y posturing.
Maybe he’s here to beat the shit out of someone.
Or maybe he’s here to give me my secret fantasy.
Visions of what he might look like shoving her against a brick alley wall with a thigh between her legs, pinning her arms above her head and using those muscles to give her the biggest orgasm of her life made her squeak with wanting.
Wait. She dropped her heels down to the floor. She’d seen him before. Somewhere.
He stood out from the cute seasonal decor and quaint Victorian architecture in Fairwick Falls. Like he’d taken a wrong turn from Bushwick and decided to stay.
He doesn’t look like a wreath-hanging, small-town-festival kind of guy.
She couldn’t stop staring at him.
His deep brown eyes went molten at her. Apparently he had the same problem.
What is with me?
His scowl broke though as he talked to Reed, the bookstore owner, as if they were friends.
Okay, so he isn’t here to kick over a trash can and shout “Punk’s not dead” before setting a small anarchist trash fire.
Olivia turned her attention back to the adorable chatterbox in front of her who was in the middle of a monologue about unicorns.
* * *
LUCA
He laughed—a humorless, despondent, and desperate sound.
Oh, no.
Oh, god.
No, no, no, no.
He wiped a hand down his face in desperation.
That’s my future wife? The fuck?
Those thoughts had never occurred to Luca before.
He’d never once in his goddamn life looked at anyone and thought, You know what? Why don’t I marry you, stranger. You’re the other half that completes my soul.
Or some shit.
Frankly, if someone had told him he would ever think anything like that, he’d have decked them.
Love at first sight was bullshit.
Until it smacks you across your dumbass face with its bullshittery.
He couldn’t deny it. The woman on the stage was meant for him—and he for her. As certain as the sky was above and the ground below his paint-stained boots.
His hand rubbed at his chest as he stared at her in utter bewilderment.
Who was she?
She crouched down, laughing with Annabelle. Her reddish blonde hair was twisted into a bun, and she wore a small tiara on top of it. She gingerly took it off and set the tiara on Annabelle’s head, gently moving the hair out of her face.
Had he ever been that gentle?
Oh, fuck me, he cursed at his bad luck.
His eyes couldn’t stop drinking her in.
He needed to ask Pearl what the hell was going on.
Why was there a ballerina in the middle of the goddamn bookstore?
And why wasn’t she wearing something warmer? Her long arms were bare, and she only wore tights and a bodice thing.
Why do I feel protective and territorial over her? Christ.
His life felt like it was on a tilt-a-whirl right now, making him dizzy with the idea of her.
Maybe I forgot to eat lunch, and this is just some weird psychosis as a result.
“Hey, man,” Reed called, waving from the checkout counter. Luca nodded a greeting at his best friend without taking his eyes off of the ballerina.
Reed held up a stack of books as he walked to Luca. “You missed story time, but AB hasn’t even come up for air. She and Pearl picked these out. Apparently, ballet is her new favorite thing. The top one is the one that Olivia read.”
“So you see her, too?” Luca said, his eyes never leaving the ballerina talking with Annabelle.
Reed chuckled. “She’s here promoting the new kids’ dance classes in town.”
“Huh.” Luca went back to staring, bewildered, at the woman.
Reed placed a hand on his shoulder. “You okay? You look like you need to lie down, or take a shot.”
“Probably,” Luca said with a disconcerted sigh.
He had a strict no-dating rule until Annabelle graduated high school.
He couldn’t risk losing anybody again. He’d been a shell of a person after Marcy had died, and he was going to do fucking better than that.
His entire focus needed to be on making sure AB had the perfect childhood.
He only had one shot. He was struggling enough as it was.
Romance was not even on his radar.
AB saw him and ran over. “Dad, Dad! Ms. Olivia said I could be a ballerina.”
His heart lit up. It never got old, her calling him Dad. Top five sounds of my whole life.
She’d been talking nonstop since she’d turned one, but still.
Never got old.
He hugged AB to his leg, catching the tiara falling off her head.
Annabelle stared up with pleading eyes. “Can I take classes, please? Please? Please?”
He hadn’t seen Annabelle this obsessed since she’d first discovered the existence of unicorns two years ago.
He opened his mouth. “W—”
“Please?”
“Annab—”
“Please? Come here, come here.” AB pulled him over to the ballerina.
Oh…fuck.
Oh my god.
He had seen her before. She was the woman, the one he’d seen last Christmas. There had been a Christmas thing at the diner that Pearl had dragged him to, and he’d been caught up in a business discussion. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of this woman—this…Olivia—but she’d disappeared.
She stood and looked as bewildered as he felt.
Olivia. He rolled the name back and forth in his head.
He could already feel the grooves of how it belonged there.
“Hi,” she said warmly, softly. As if they were picking up from an old, lost conversation.
“Hi,” he whispered. He felt like he’d practically screamed, Oh, it’s you. The other part of myself I didn’t know was missing.
AB pulled on his hand. “So can I take classes? I’ll be a ballerina. And then—wait. Do we get to wear tutus?” she asked suddenly, tugging on Olivia’s tutu.
“Hey, ask nicely,” Luca reminded her.
Olivia leaned down, crouching into an impossibly small folded bundle so she was eye to eye with Annabelle.
“It’s a little while before you get to wear a tutu like this, but we get really fun costumes and fun ballet slippers.
” Her warm, indulgent smile at AB was going to make him pass out from wanting.
“You get to dance and have fun and move your body and feel good.”
“And wear a tiara?” AB asked with excitement.
“Sometimes, yes,” Olivia said with a laugh as she stood, introducing herself. “I’m Olivia. I’m the new temporary dance teacher.”
He memorized every movement as she spoke. The graceful curvature of her lips, her animated and bright eyes.
“Yes,” Luca said, feeling lightheaded from how perfect she was.
Wait, that doesn’t make any sense.
“Yes, I’m Olivia?” A pretty look of confusion contorted her face and her big blue eyes grew wider.
No, not blue, sapphire.
He liked the way her lips moved when she talked, as if they were part of her dance—smooth and luscious.
Hell, he’d go to war for this woman’s earlobes—they were that fucking cute.
“Yes. I mean, the classes,” he said, gulping.
Oh. My. God. I am fucking this up so badly.
“Okay,” she said with a nervous smile. “So that’s a…yes to the classes.”
He gulped again.
“Yes.”
AB tugged on his hand. “Dad, it starts this week.”
“Okay,” he said, his eyes never leaving Olivia’s face.
He was making an absolute mess of this.
Olivia.
He rolled the name around in his head again, comforting himself. It was perfect and lovely, and it suited her.
“I’m so excited we have another student joining us,” Olivia said, winking at AB, who beamed at her. Annabelle’s face might crack in two from her smile.
“How about”—Olivia leaned over on her knees, now standing flat-footed in her heavy toe shoes—“you keep that tiara.” She winked as Annabelle gasped and clutched the plastic tiara to her heart.
Annabelle shrieked, throwing her body at Olivia’s legs and almost knocking her over.
Luca grabbed Olivia’s flailing arms, and his hand went to her back to steady her. Olivia burst out laughing and patted Annabelle’s back.
Olivia’s eyes caught his with humor, and she aimed a grateful smile up at him. Gorgeous.
“Our girl loves hard,” he said to Olivia.
He’d meant our girl—his and Pearl’s and Reed’s and everybody who loved Annabelle. But as the sentence reverberated between them, an insane, truly nuts part of him instinctively thought, Maybe someday…?
No, it’s too much to hope for. A ridiculous thought.
He’d just met this woman. She could be married. Maybe she didn’t even like men.
But maybe.
Maybe in some alternate universe, where happy endings blossomed and good things happened to good people…maybe there could be a we between him and this woman who’d somehow crawled under his skin in a matter of milliseconds and set up shop in his left ventricle.
Olivia rustled through her bag and handed Luca a piece of paper.
He was staring at her dumbly, trying to memorize every single hair on her head and freckle on her face.
Eight across the bridge of her nose.
Six on each cheek.
“This is a list of things to order for your first class. You can buy them at the studio’s front desk or wherever you get your ballet essentials.”
Her teasing smile was now his new favorite. It was full of humor and intelligence.
And maybe witchcraft? What is wrong with me?
He just nodded at her.
Say something, you ass. Any minute now. She’s staring at you.
Instead, all he could muster was a panicked thumbs-up.
The blood returned to Luca’s brain as he stepped away to pay for Annabelle’s ballet books.
Reed smirked at the checkout counter like a smug motherfucker. “Need help rolling your tongue back into your mouth, or can you handle it?”
Luca gave his best friend the middle finger as Pearl walked up.
“Don’t flip off my boyfriend, dickhead.” Pearl gave Luca a middle finger back as she kissed Reed’s cheek with a sweet peck.
Luca rolled his eyes, but a very large part of him was beaming because his sister was so happy with his best friend.
“Uncle Reed, I’m gonna be a ballerina,” AB said, peering over the counter and hopping up and down.
Reed smiled at her, delighted. “Hey, Anna the Bell-breaker. Yes, I saw your tiara. You’re practically one already.”
Then the reality of adding something else to his schedule hit him.
How the fuck am I going to manage another thing on our schedule?
Annabelle already had Girl Scouts. He had work far away. For some idiotic reason, school times didn’t line up with business times. He was moving his business to Fairwick Falls, which was a full-time job itself.
He absolutely hated depending on Pearl, who was launching her own bakery soon in addition to working at Bookish. He’d already depended on her too much and wouldn’t rope her into childcare again.
He needed to handle this on his own.
Annabelle danced in the open space of the bookstore, mimicking ballet moves.
“Thanks again, Reed!” Olivia waved as she walked to the front door.
She’d changed into sneakers, removed the tutu, and had thrown sweatpants on over her tights. Good, she’s warmer.
She still looked like the most beautiful woman—like his—Luca had ever seen.
“Annabelle, I will see you at our first class next week!” She gave AB a high five, and if he wasn’t mistaken, her eyes sparkled as she smiled directly at him.
He watched her walk out, not losing sight of her until the door of the bookshop clicked shut.
I know in my bones… I just saw the woman I’m supposed to marry.
And now I’m going to have to see her once a week and not make a fool of myself.