Chapter 14
He didn’t need to be here.
So why was he spending his Tuesday evening in Grace Christian’s fellowship hall instead of doing the load of laundry waiting for him at home or fixing the garage door that was sticking or prepping for what was going to no doubt be a tense meeting at the mill tomorrow with Wade?
Mashing his lips together, Aaron readjusted the screen on his laptop with more force than necessary.
The answer, of course, was right in front of him.
Devyn Lee.
As the New York City ballerina walked the cast through the blocking she’d put together for one of the major production numbers, his focus was on her—not Isabel.
He may have used his daughter as an excuse to tag along tonight, but in truth his moral support was superfluous.
She was more enthused about the show than he or Gramp could ever have imagined.
And unless he was reading her wrong, that was due in large part to Devyn Lee. His daughter was as enamored with the graceful ballerina as he was.
Except Devyn didn’t look much like a ballerina tonight, in her sweatshirt and leggings and messy ponytail.
She just looked appealing.
Aaron dipped his chin on the pretense of studying his laptop screen, but the specs for the new edger Martin had asked him to evaluate weren’t computing. It was hard to think about poly belt drive systems, mandrels, and knurled drive rolls with a gorgeous woman front and center.
Especially if that woman paused as she moved among the cast members and said something to your daughter that lit up her face . . . and melted your heart.
Which made no sense.
He forked his fingers through his hair. Tried to tamp down the sudden surge in his pulse.
For Pete’s sake, he didn’t even know the woman. The two of them had exchanged no more than a handful of words.
So he best get over whatever spell she’d cast on him. Concentrate on work tonight and skip rehearsals in the future.
Angling sideways to remove her from his line of sight, he immersed himself in the spec sheet as much as he was able to and tried to block out the musical cadence of her voice as she gave patient instructions to the cast.
When the staging part of the rehearsal at last wound down and Devyn turned the group over to Shaun, Aaron shifted back around.
While the chorus pulled up chairs around the piano and the musical director took over, she collected her things and headed for the exit.
As she crossed the hall, she glanced his direction. Offered what seemed to be a tentative smile.
He responded in kind and raised a hand in acknowledgment.
Picking up her pace, she continued toward the door—but in her wake, a piece of paper fell out of her bag and fluttered to the floor.
Aaron sat up straighter. Scanned the hall.
Everyone else was giving Shaun their full attention.
Blast.
That paper might be important. He couldn’t let her leave without it.
He set his laptop on the empty chair beside him, strode across the room, scooped up the rectangle, and continued toward Devyn.
When he was a few feet away, he spoke. “Um . . . excuse me. This fell out of your bag.”
She swiveled around, and he held out the slip of paper.
After flicking it a quick look, her gaze zipped back to his face—and all at once, sparks crackled in the air around him.
Whoa.
It felt like the Fourth of July.
Hard as he tried to fill his lungs, they refused to cooperate.
Devyn appeared to be having problems of her own. Her lips parted slightly, and she sucked in a breath. Swallowed.
Mustering every ounce of his willpower, he wrenched his gaze away and transferred his attention to the piece of paper in his hand. “I, uh, thought you might need this.” His last word rasped.
She cleared her throat. Reached for the paper. “Thanks.” As she took it, her fingers brushed his for a millisecond before she snatched them back.
Electricity continued to sizzle around him.
This was crazy.
He needed to calm down. Play this cool. He could analyze what had just happened later, in the safety of his room.
“No worries.” He kick-started his lungs, trying to ignore the blue of her eyes that matched the summer sky in Hope Harbor. “I thought maybe there were dancing notes on there. For the show.” Lame, based on the few scribbles on the paper, but it was all he could come up with.
“Nothing that important.” She tucked it back into a pocket on her bag. “Just a grocery list—and a reminder to stop at Sweet Dreams. I’m addicted to their cinnamon rolls. A stop there is becoming a daily habit.”
He gave her lithe, willowy figure a swift sweep. “Ballet dancers eat cinnamon rolls?”
Amusement sparked in her irises. “We eat more than most people think, although the common misperception is that we starve ourselves. During the season, we expend as many calories as an Olympic athlete in training. But breaks are different. I should curb my sweet tooth while I’m here.
” She wiped her palm on her leggings and held out her hand.
“Devyn Lee. I know you know who I am, but we’ve never been introduced. ”
He took her slender fingers in his. “Aaron Steele. Isabel’s father, as I’m sure you’ve figured out.”
“Yes. She’s a sweet girl. Your grandfather is also delightful. It seems like the show is a family affair. Why aren’t you in it?”
He hiked up one side of his mouth. “I can’t sing or act, and I have two left feet.”
Eyes twinkling, she leaned closer and lowered her volume. “Between you and me, that didn’t stop a lot of the people in the cast from auditioning. But since the powers that be wanted everyone to feel welcome, we didn’t turn anyone away.”
He tried hard to concentrate on what she was saying. Really hard. But the floral fragrance tickling his nose and the wispy tendrils of hair touching distance away that had escaped from her ponytail were a huge distraction.
“Uh-huh.” Not exactly articulate, but it was all he could manage.
“Well . . .” She straightened up. “Thanks again for grabbing my list.”
“You’re welcome.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I, uh, understand your sister is doing better. I’m glad to hear that.”
As the comment slipped out, he furrowed his brow.
If he wanted to end this conversation, keep his distance, he was going about it all wrong.
“Yes, she is. I’m trying to convince her to sign on to help with costumes for the show. No luck yet, but I can be very persistent.”
“I imagine you’d have to be to succeed in the world of ballet. The competition must be fierce.”
“It is. And it takes more than talent to get noticed.”
Warmth crept up his neck.
Did she think he’d meant that the pinnacle she’d achieved was due more to perseverance than talent?
Shoot.
He needed a few lessons in diplomacy.
“For the record, I didn’t mean to imply your success was related to anything other than talent.”
“No apology necessary. One thing I’ve learned in this business is not to read too much into what anyone says.
It can drive you nuts.” She tipped her head toward the cast members, speaking louder as they began singing.
“It’s nice of you to stay for the rehearsals.
Your grandfather keeps an eye on Isabel, but nothing replaces the presence of a loving father. ”
Was there a wistful note in her voice, or was he guilty of what she’d cautioned against moments ago—reading too much into her words?
“I was afraid she’d be intimidated, but she’s fully embraced the show. Thanks in large part to you. Your thoughtfulness at the auditions made an impression.” On him too, but he left that unsaid.
“Kindness doesn’t cost a thing. We should all give it away generously.” She pulled out her keys. “Enjoy the rest of the rehearsal.”
With that, she pivoted and continued to the door.
As it closed behind her, he wandered back to his seat. Powered down his laptop. No way was he going to be able to focus on mill equipment now. Not with a hint of Devyn’s faint, tantalizing fragrance lingering in the air around him.
May as well use the time to try and figure out why his brief encounter with the beautiful dancer had thrown him so off-balance.
But when Shaun at last called it a night, he was no closer to unraveling that puzzle than he’d been forty-five minutes ago.
As Gramp and Isabel approached him, he stood and tucked his laptop under his arm. “You guys have fun tonight?”
“Yeah! It was awesome.” Isabel was grinning ear-to-ear.
“I second that. And it looks like you had fun too.” Gramp winked and gave him an elbow nudge.
Oh, brother. Someone had his matchmaker hat on again.
Maybe if he ignored the comment, Gramp would let the subject drop.
“You both ready to go home?” He started toward the door.
“Yes.” Isabel pranced ahead.
Gramp fell in beside him. “You and Devyn had a long conversation.”
It appeared the subject wasn’t going to be dropped.
“Not that long. I was returning a piece of paper she dropped.” He picked up his pace.
Gramp did too.
“Charming young woman. Isabel’s taken a fancy to her too.”
Too.
A word rife with implications best ignored.
“She seems to have a way with children.”
“With grown-up men too.”
Aaron reached over Isabel’s head and pushed the door open, keeping his expression nonchalant. “Sounds like she’s caught your fancy.”
“She has indeed. If only I were forty years younger.” He shook his head. “But I know someone who is.”
“Dad, can we stop at the ice cream truck if it’s on the wharf tonight?”
At Isabel’s question, he turned his back on Gramp. “I think that could be arranged.”
“Yay! I’m going to get a fudgesicle. What are you going to get?”
“A firecracker, I think.”
“Haven’t you already had your share of fireworks tonight?” Gramp nudged him again, chortling.
He’d walked right into that one.
“I think you should get a screwball.” A touch of annoyance crept into his tone, despite his effort to tame it.
“My humor must be hitting too close to home. Interesting. Very interesting.”
“Give it a break, Gramp.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Isabel looked between them as they approached the car.
“I was kidding your dad about—”
As Aaron shot him the evil eye, Gramp fell silent.
“About what?” Isabel peered at him.
“It was a grown-up joke, honey.” Aaron opened the back door and shepherded her in.
“Oh.” Isabel settled into the booster seat she was fast outgrowing. “What did Miss Devyn say while you were talking to her?”
Good grief.
Had everyone in the room noticed their brief exchange?
“She said she thought you were very sweet.”
Isabel’s smile couldn’t have gotten any wider. “She’s nice, isn’t she, Dad?”
“Yes.”
“I wish we could see her more. Not just at rehearsals.”
“Out of the mouths of babes . . .” Gramp slid into the passenger seat.
“She’s busy with the show, honey. And she’s also taking care of her sister.” He helped her secure the seat belt.
“Maybe we could give her a tour of the town.”
“She was born here, Isabel. She knows her way around.”
“But she left a long time ago. I bet a lot has changed since she was a little girl.”
“We’ll talk about it later.” Before she could protest, he shut the door.
And as he walked around the car, he shored up his resolve.
Even if Isabel and Gramp ganged up on him, he was not going to discuss Devyn during the short drive.
Taking a deep breath, he slid behind the wheel and started the car. Pulled out of the parking lot. Pointed the car toward the wharf to check on the ice cream truck.
When no one spoke, he sent Gramp a sidelong glance.
The older man was scrolling through emails on his phone.
He peeked into the rearview mirror.
Isabel was buttoning her sweater and softly humming one of the show tunes.
Why the sudden silence? Had Gramp said something to Isabel while he circled the car that had shut down the discussion?
But why would he do that?
Unknown.
Whatever his motive, however, there was a method to his madness. Gramp was an excellent strategist.
As he tooled down Dockside Drive, Aaron continued to mull over the sudden silence from his companions.
Maybe Gramp had decided that the most effective way to get his recalcitrant grandson to think about Devyn was to leave his mind to its own devices.
If so, his plan was working.
Because instead of being occupied deflecting Gramp’s innuendoes, his brain was free to wander wherever it wanted to go.
And it kept returning to Devyn, with her beautiful blue eyes and the subtle, captivating perfume that swirled around her.
Of course, dwelling on her was a waste of mental energy. No matter what agenda Gramp was pushing, no matter how intriguing Devyn might be, a mill worker getting all hot and bothered about a New York City ballerina was a recipe for disaster.
So he was done going to rehearsals.
From now on, he was playing it safe and keeping his distance.