by Parker, Ali
Linden studied the man in front of him and guilt rolled around in my stomach. He lifted his hand, which Jace shook, and then Linden grinned. “Are you Paxton’s dad?”
“I am,” Jace said. “Paxton is a bit—”
“Shy,” Linden finished for him. He looked up at me to make sure he was correct. I nodded. Linden bit his bottom lip. “That’s okay. I used to be shy too. He doesn’t have to come out and play if he doesn’t want to.”
Jace’s eyes flicked back and forth between my son’s—our son’s—and his mouth straightened into a firm line. “You’re a wise kid, you know that?”
Linden puffed out his chest. “Yes.”
Jace laughed before standing again. “I’ll tell Paxton you’re here. And that you understand if he needs some time on his own. He’ll come around to you. I’m sure of it.”
Linden shrugged. “It’s all right. My cousin Ruby is shy, too.”
Jace smiled at me, and I smiled back. The look we shared said, Kids, right?
Jace ducked into Paxton’s room and closed the door. I waited with Linden and Marie as the two of them said what needed to be said behind closed doors. We didn’t have to wait long. Maybe another two minutes, tops. In that time, Marie gave Linden the play by play of how they were going to spend the evening.
“First,” she said, her voice wavering with childish excitement, “we prepare our pizzas. I have all the ingredients to make our own. Then we pop them in the oven. While they bake, we’ll set up a fort. Do you like forts, Linden?”
Linden had his hands clasped together, and he nodded up at her like she was a goddess come to earth.
Marie giggled. “Good. Me too. We’ll make our fort and eat our pizza in there. Then we can play some games. Or watch a movie. Or do whatever you and Paxton want to do, okay?”
“Okay.” Linden beamed.
“Thanks for doing this, Marie,” I said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I appreciate it.”
“Of course. It’ll give me a chance to exercise my mothering skills.”
I laughed. “Fair. I’ll have my phone on me. Just call if you need anything, okay?”
“I won’t,” Marie said. “We’ve got this, right, Linden?”
“Right,” he said confidently.
Jace came out of the bedroom and left the door open behind him. He gave Marie a weak shrug that I interpreted as Paxton not being willing to come out and say hello yet. That was perfectly all right. I waited patiently as Jace grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door and shrugged into it.
“Sorry, Marie. He’ll come around.”
“Don’t worry, Jace,” Marie said. “He can take his time. I don’t want to force him. But I have some tricks to get him out of his room.”
Jace frowned. “Oh?”
“We’re going to build a fort,” Linden said.
Jace chuckled and ruffled Linden’s hair. “All right. Well, I don’t think anyone can turn down hanging out in a good fort. I’m sure Paxton will come out and join you both. Leave the clean up for me, Marie. I’ll get it done in the morning. You guys just have a good time.”
Marie put her hands in the middle of his back and pushed as I opened the front door. “You don’t tell me what to do. Just go and have a good night. We’ve got this. Right, Linden?”
“Right!”
They closed the door behind us.
Jace turned and blinked at the red door. “Well. I guess that’s that.”
“I guess so.”
He turned to me with a sheepish smile. “Come on. Let’s go. We don’t want to be late. These boots were made for dancing.”
Chapter 13
Jace
I parked the truck in the school parking lot. Emelia leaned forward, her seatbelt pulling tight across her chest, and peered up at the school.
“Wow,” she breathed.
“I know.”
Annapolis Secondary went all out when it came to school dances. Blue and pink light poured out of the glass ceiling from the main hallway, which would no doubt be decked out to lead a path from the front doors to the gymnasium.
I got out of the truck. Emelia followed, unable to tear her gaze from the school as we walked to meet in front of the truck. “It’s impressive. The students did this themselves?”
“Yep,” I said, sliding my hands in my pockets. “They love it. A good two dozen of them volunteer and dedicate a lot of their time over the year to making decorations and picking themes and all that shit. You know. The hard-hitting teenage stuff.”
“I only ever went to two dances when I was in high school. One of which was prom.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I wasn’t really the type of girl who had fun at dances.”
“Why, all the hot guys fighting over you cause too much drama in your friend circle?”
Emelia giggled and shook her head. “No. Definitely not. I wasn’t that girl. Not even close. I was the girl in the corner nobody paid much attention to.”
I took her hand. “Maybe because you chose to sit in the corner.”
Her eyes slid over to me.
I gave her hand a squeeze. “Come on. Let’s check the place out and grab some free punch. This will be the best school dance you ever see.”
We marched up the stairs to the front doors of the school. As soon as I tugged them open, music poured out. It smelled like teenagers; axe body spray, coconut shampoo, body odor. Emelia let go of my hand as we made our way up the hallway which was lit with pink and blue lights. Then we forked right and stopped in front of the gymnasium doors.
“Wow,” Emelia breathed again.
I chuckled. “Come on.”
We went in, passing under an arch made of God only knows how many white balloons. At the end of the arch, we passed through a wall of silver tinsel, emerging into the completely transformed gym. There was no trace of any athletic equipment. It had all been traded for disco balls, tables for sitting and eating, a buffet of snacks and punch at the back of the room, and a stage for the live band that was currently on a break.
“This is unreal,” Emelia said, turning in a slow circle to soak it all in. “I had no idea it would be this impressive. I mean. Wow.”
Not many students had arrived yet. The place was pretty empty, save for some teachers milling around sipping punch out of clear solo cups. There were bags of chips yet to be opened placed in empty bowls, and once more students started to arrive, they’d be cracked open. Some teachers had really stepped up their game this year and made some baked goods to bring. It was a hard feat this day and age to prepare something that would accommodate all the dietary needs of students.
Emelia and I made our way across the gymnasium over to where the punch was. I spooned us each a cup and handed one to her. Her lips were sealed on the edge of the plastic when John came over to join us.
“Hey, kids,” he said in his deep baritone voice.
“John,” I said in greeting.
Emelia waggled her fingers at him as she sipped her punch.
John peered around at the gym. “Have you seen what they did to my humble abode? What a disgrace. How many balloons did they think they needed?”
Emelia giggled. “I think it looks nice.”
“Likewise,” I said.
John rolled his eyes at the both of us. “Yes. Well. Neither of you have any good sense. This is a gym, not a ballroom.”
“Where do you suggest they have their dances then, Scrooge?” I asked.
John shrugged. “The multipurpose room would suffice. They have half the stage props in there anyway. Makes a hell of a lot more sense to me.”
“The multipurpose room can only fit two hundred kids. Tops.” I looked to the balloon arch as the first of the students arrived: a cluster of sophomore girls in primary-colored dresses with bright lipstick and big hairstyles.
“First come, first serve,” John said stiffly. “There’d be less of a mess for us to clean up after, too.”
“I never knew you were such a poo
r sport,” Emelia said.
“He’s a complainer by nature,” I said.
John snorted. “Nah. I’m just four years older than you two and have been doing this gig a lot longer. You just wait. You’ll get tired of this gaudy shit sooner or later.”
Emelia gazed around at the gym. “I don’t think I will. I like it. I like that the kids want to put in the effort to make a night like this. I think it’s important. It creates a sense of community. And not all schools have that.”
I watched her as she looked around the room and agreed with every word coming out of her mouth. Kids, especially teenagers, thrived when they had something to look forward to. If it was something they cared about and could pour their energy into, even better. I knew for a fact some of the kids on the council who planned this dance were desperate to spend more time here than they were at home.
Why not let them have a field day with events like this?
They did no harm. They nurtured community and helped lay down foundations for traditions and friendships. School dances were a crucial part of high school culture. Yes, there was room for improvement when it came to inclusivity, but Annapolis Secondary was pretty good at making everyone feel welcome.
So far, the only person in need of an attitude adjustment was John.
Teenagers started arriving by the handful once the clock struck eight o’clock. They showed up in their favorite outfits and makeup they weren’t allowed to wear on regular school days. Boys wore nice shirts and told the girls in the dresses they looked pretty. The girls giggled, clustered together, and talked about said boys and how much they wished they would ask them to dance.
I leaned toward Emelia as we stood back against the bleachers with John to watch the evening unfold. “I’ve always wondered why high school girls think boys will ask them to dance when they’re standing in groups like that. Don’t they know how intimidating it is for a guy to approach a herd of females?”
Emelia shrugged one shoulder and watched the group of girls with amusement in her eyes. “I think they’re equally nervous.”
I frowned. “Really?”
She nodded. “Definitely. There’s a lot of pressure. And a lot of opportunity for things to go horribly wrong.”
John groaned beside her. “Horribly wrong? Really? How horrible could it be? This is high school. The stakes are pretty low.”
“Not true,” Emelia said, shaking her head. Her hair danced across her shoulders. “From our position, it might seem that way. Like their problems are small and maybe even petty. But when you’re living in the moment, high school is everything. The stakes are incredibly high. You’re caught in this awkward place between childhood and adulthood, and you’re trying to make sense of who you are and who you want to be, and on top of all that, you’re hoping the guy you like—or girl—asks you to dance and not one of your friends.”
John looked down his nose at her. “I suppose I never really thought about it like that.”
Emelia gave him a deadpan stare. “I guess all that experience you have under your belt isn’t as useful as you thought it was, hey tough guy?”
I snorted into my punch.
John was about to give Emelia a piece of his mind when the upbeat pop music suddenly shifted to something slow and sweet. Emelia held up her hand to silence John and me. “Wait. This is the best part.”
I wasn’t entirely sure what she was talking about until I turned to the students. Panic raced across half the faces as they realized it was the first slow song. Girls waited, their faces drawn in eager apprehension as the boys tried to work up the nerve to ask one of them to dance. Then, one by one, slowly but surely, they paired off. Boys pulled girls on the dance floor, and girls pulled other girls, and soon, everyone had a partner and was swaying awkwardly, hands on each other’s hips, arms held straight out, stiff and rigid.
Emelia sighed. “It’s so sweet.”
“It’s painful.” John winced.
“A little,” Emelia admitted. “But sweet nonetheless.”
I found that watching the kids couldn’t hold my interest. I was consumed by watching Emelia. She looked beautiful in the shifting light beneath the dance floors, like a mermaid in tropical waters.
She caught me staring.
I averted my gaze. “Want another punch?”
Her stare was still fixed on me, but she held out her cup. “Sure. Thank you.”
I broke away from her and John to top off our cups. A couple students were ahead of me, scooping punch into their own cups and giggling, and I gave them a hard time about how long they were taking. It was all in good fun. They teased back before slipping back onto the dance floor, and I cast a glance over my shoulder at Emelia before I filled up her cup.
It felt like she’d been back in my life for a hell of a lot longer than just a couple weeks.
And tonight, something felt different. There was something in the air between us. Something that had been there at John and Marie’s wedding all those years again. Something hot and wild and unpredictable.
I shook my head.
I was getting ahead of myself. These feelings were probably exclusive to me, not to her, and I didn’t want to mess things up by pushing for more from a woman who might not have anything to give me.
Then again, the chance might be worth taking.
After all, one of the best nights of my life had happened because I took a risk and asked a pretty girl to dance.
Chapter 14
Emelia
“Ouch,” I hissed, shaking out my hand. I pouted as I held my reddening finger in front of my eyes and squinted at it. “Stupid.”
“What did you do?” Jace asked, nudging one of the collapsible tables against the wall with his hip to be put away tomorrow morning when the custodian returned with the keys to the storage room.
“I pinched my finger in the table when I folded it,” I grumbled, shaking out my hand again like that would make the pulsing pain in the tip of my index finger go away. “It’s fine.”
“Let me see,” Jace said. He took my hand by the wrist and inspected my finger. Then he clicked his tongue.
“What?”
“I knew it.”
“What?” I asked again, this time worry spreading through me. Was it broken? No. It didn’t hurt that bad. Sprained? Was my fingernail going to fall off?
Jace looked up at me from beneath his brows and smiled. “Yep. You can’t do anymore work with a finger like this. I guess I’ll just have to take you home.”
John, who was stacking chairs a few feet away, chirped up. “Hey now. You two don’t get to bail early.”
“Sorry,” Jace said, taking me by my good hand and pulling me across the gym. The dance had already been over for an hour, and most of the mess was cleaned up. “I have to get her home to ice this finger of hers.”
“Wuss!” John hollered.
Giggling like a schoolgirl, I hurried along behind Jace as he pulled me down the long hallway to the front doors. We burst through them, full of punch and giddiness, and rushed across the lot to his truck, the soles of our shoes slapping across the pavement.
I brushed my hair out of my eyes as Jace unlocked my door and opened it for me. He held out his hand, and I climbed into the passenger seat and watched as he closed the door behind me and walked around the hood of the truck.
For a moment, I wondered if one of the kids snuck some vodka or something into the punch. It was the only logical thing that could explain the way I felt. Warm. Full.
Sexy.
I swallowed, and Jace swung up into the driver’s seat. I stared at his knuckles as he gripped the wheel with one hand and twisted the keys in the ignition with the other. Then he pulled out of the stall, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he cranked the wheel to leave the lot.
He caught me staring at him. “You all right?”
“Y—yes.” This was not the time to stammer and lose my cool. The night had gone great, and now that it was just the two of us alone, confined in the cab of
his truck, I couldn’t ignore my pulse fluttering at my throat or the ache that had formed between my legs.
It had been a long time since I felt desire like this.
Six years, to be exact.
“You sure?” Jace pressed. And then he did something that doomed me. Us. Everything.
He put his hand on my knee.
Oh God.
As soon as he did it, he seemed to realize the ramifications of such a gesture. His eyes widened a bit, and he went to pull his hand back, but I placed my palm over his knuckles.
We came to a stop at a red light.
“Sorry,” he said. His voice was low and gravelly and sexier than it had any right to be.
“Don’t be.” My tongue was thick in my mouth. There was a humming in my ears that wasn’t just the rumble of the truck’s engine. The smell of the leather seats and the clean carpets mingled pleasantly with Jace’s cologne, and I couldn’t recall the last time I found myself feeling so overwhelmed by the sense of masculinity.
It was glorious.
And dangerous.
My body was responding in ways I wished it wouldn’t. My nipples pressed up against the padding in my bra, making it impossible for me to focus on anything other than his eyes on me and how that hard gaze of his made me feel. I didn’t dare move for fear of him noticing my hardening nipples under my T-shirt. My panties were wet, and my skin was on fire.
“Jace,” I whispered.
He leaned over the console between us and strained against his seatbelt. “Yes?”
“I think you should pull over somewhere.”
“Where?”
“Some place private. And dark.”
Jace’s eyes widened momentarily, and then the light went green. He hit the gas, pushing us both back against our seats, and he took the next right. The headlights illuminated a dark road lined in maple trees. Darkness crept in at the end of the street, but we kept driving, revealing more and more asphalt with every mile.
I didn’t know this town well enough to know where we were going, but I knew I trusted Jace, and I knew moments like this didn’t come by often—or at all—for a single mom with a full-time job. I also knew how good this was going to be. I’d done it before.