by Whitley Cox
Violet squinted at him. Ah, so that’s where he was going. Just like Violet, Tulip was in mourning.
“She will honestly be no trouble to you. She’s nine years old. A Pyrenees-Lab cross, spayed, up to date on her shots and is totally house-trained.”
A forced laugh burst from Violet’s lips. “I should hope she’s house-trained if she’s nine.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “I figured you could take her to work with you and she could just hang out and sleep on the floor below Kathleen’s desk or something. From what Liam says, she’s the most chill dog ever. Eager to please and loves everyone.”
Violet bent back down and started petting Tulip again. “Why can’t you take her?”
“I could. And I will if you don’t want her. Mira is already in love. But something tells me you might need her more. Take your mind off your troubles.”
And if things go well between us, then Tulip will eventually become Mira’s dog anyway.
Whoa! Where the heck did that thought come from?
“You don’t have to take her right now if you don’t want to. But she needed to be fostered, and I offered to take her in until Liam could find a suitable home. We’re loath to send her to a shelter. First, she loses her mama, and then she gets sent to a shelter. That’s no way to live out the rest of your days.”
Rest of your days?
He must have read her mind. “Life expectancy of these big beauties is ten to twelve.” He ruffled the fur on the top of her head. “Tulip here is a senior citizen.”
As she studied his face, bright and hopeful, she felt a strong outpouring of emotion. This man was incredible. Patient and giving, compassionate and thoughtful. She could so easily fall in love with him. So easily give him her heart, or what was left of it.
A warm, wet, rough tongue lapped at the back of her hand. Tulip had slumped on to her belly and was lying down, licking Violet’s hand and nuzzling her knee.
She’d already claimed Violet.
There was no going back now. Not that she wanted to. No, Tulip was hers.
“Looks like you have a new best friend,” Adam said with a chuckle, the warmth in his eyes setting the butterflies in her belly all a flutter. “Violet and Tulip. Beautiful flowers. It’s like you were meant to be.”
“Rhodos are flowers too. But I don’t really want a bird that swears in my house,” she said, standing up just as the front door opened. Mitch and Jayda stepped out.
“Ooh, a puppy!” Jayda fell to her knees and let Tulip sniff her hand before she started petting the dog’s head.
Mitch crouched down next to Jayda and stroked Tulip’s soft fur. “You decided to take her yourself?” he asked, directing his question to Adam.
Adam’s lips twisted and he looked away. “Well, I will. If Violet doesn’t want her.”
Mitch’s head snapped around to his sister so fast she could have sworn she heard a whip crack. “You’re taking the dog?”
Violet shrugged. “She doesn’t have anybody else. She lost her mama. She’s old. We’re both grieving. She deserves to spend the rest of her days being loved and cared for. I’ll bring her to work with me. She can hang out under Kathleen’s desk. She might get me out for walks more.” She pressed her forehead against Tulip’s. “I think it might be good for both of us.”
“We’re getting a puppy?” Jayda asked, her voice so filled with hope, Violet’s heart did a little skip in her chest.
Violet looked up at her brother beseechingly. “Can we keep her? I promise to take care of her. Feed her. Walk her. Pick up after her. She’ll be mine. All mine.” She made sure to put a sugary sweet whine in her voice, like a child asking their parent if they could keep the puppy that had followed them home.
Mitch glanced up at Adam, amusement in his eyes. “You’re a scheming son of a bitch, you know that?”
Adam was all grins as he handed the leash to Violet. “I wouldn’t call it scheming. I would call it matchmaking.”
Mitch rolled his eyes, but his smile was carefree and jolly. “Yeah, well, I’ve played matchmaker too. I have to go pick up a parakeet with a potty mouth and convince my mother to adopt it. Otherwise, we’re going to go from a no-pet household to a two-pet household very quickly.”
Adam chuckled. “Just don’t tell her the bird can talk. Let her fall in love with it and then find out on her own.”
“I might just have to do that.” Mitch groaned.
“So you’ll take her?” Adam asked, pinning his gaze back on Violet, hope in his eyes.
She nodded then kissed Tulip’s velvety-soft forehead. “I’m already in love.”
His eyes flashed something she wasn’t quite prepared to explore before his talented mouth split into a big smile. “Excellent.” He grabbed Mira’s hand. “Come on, baby, let’s go get Tulip’s food and bed out of the back of the truck.”
Mira nodded, and the two of them skipped down the path toward Adam’s SUV.
Mitch’s hand rested on Violet’s shoulder. “You’re sure about this? If she’s old, she’s not going to be around forever. Are you prepared to lose someone else you love?”
She rested her hand on his before turning her focus back to Tulip. “It’ll be hard when she goes. But if I know it’s coming, it’ll be easier. This old girl deserves to feel loved until her last day, and I can give her that.”
Mitch stood with a groan just as Adam and Mira reappeared with an entire bin full of stuff. “All right, if this is what you need, then I support you.”
Violet stood as well her heart so full it was close to bursting. “Thank you.”
Adam tipped back his beer and finished it, letting out a content and satisfied ah. “Well, it looks like Tulip has made herself at home.” He lifted his chin toward the snoring dog, who had dragged her bed from the corner near the kitchen door to the sundeck and placed it at Violet’s feet, where her new master sat on the couch. “I also think she’s found her new mama.”
Violet bent down and rubbed Tulip’s head. Tulip didn’t so much as flinch. “I think we’re going to be just fine.”
Violet’s phone vibrated on the table and she reached for it, her nose scrunching up adorably as she checked the number.
“Who is it?” Mitch asked.
Violet shrugged. “Don’t know. It’s the same area code as that last call with no one on the other end, though.”
Mitch and Adam exchanged wary glances.
Mitch sat up on the edge of his eat. “Answer it, but put it on speaker.”
Nodding, Violet did as she was instructed.
The three of them sat there in complete silence.
“Hello?” Violet asked, a slight quaver to her voice. Adam scooted over and wrapped an arm around her waist for support. He felt her inhale. She was holding her breath.
They all waited for the reply.
Nothing.
“Hello?” Mitch spoke. “Who’s there?”
Nothing.
Mitch made eye contact with Adam before he mouthed the question, “Do you hear breathing?”
Adam nodded. He heard breathing on the other line. Someone was there. It wasn’t a pocket dial. It wasn’t an accident. Someone had called Violet deliberately. Someone was tormenting her.
“We’re going to take this phone number to the police,” Mitch threatened, his green eyes hardening as he stared at Violet’s phone as if the phone were the offender and not the person calling. “If you keep harassing my sister, we will find you.”
There was a click over the line, the phone flashed, and the call disconnected.
All three of them stared at one another.
“What the fuck was that?” Mitch asked slowly, grabbing his sister’s phone off the table and then grabbing his own phone. Adam could only assume he was cross-checking the number.
“You said that number has called before?” Adam asked. “Did the person say anything last time?”
Violet shook her head. “No, same as just now. Silence.” She chewed on the side of her thumbnail. “Though t
his time I definitely heard breathing.”
Mitch shook his head. “The number isn’t listed. It’s not coming up as anything. Must be a burner phone or something.” He placed Violet’s phone back on the coffee table, fixing his sister with a stern but caring look. “I don’t like this, Vi, not one bit.”
She held up her hands in defeat, her eyes nervous, her body tense. “Me either, but what can we do?
The sound of something falling on the floor upstairs had the three of them pausing. Jayda and Mira had quickly taken off upstairs to go play, and so far, nothing but squeals of delight and joyous laughter had been heard. Until now.
They waited.
Another crash.
They waited again.
And sure enough, crying, followed by heavy running footsteps echoed down the hall and then the stairs. Seconds later a very upset four-and-a-half-year-old interrupted their pleasant, lazy Sunday afternoon.
“Daaaaadddddy!” Mira whined, running full tilt into Adam’s legs. He’d already stood up and was making his way toward the staircase.
He crouched down so they were eye-level. “What’s wrong?” Using both hands, he brushed the wild chestnut curls off her damp forehead and out of her teary eyes.
“She fell,” Jayda said, coming around the corner. “I told her not to play on the ladder for my bunk beds, but she did it anyway. Then she tried jumping from the top of the ladder over to my chair, and she fell and hit her head on the dresser.” The little girl shook her head, and Adam could swear he heard her going tsk tsk. The expression on her face was less of a friend concerned for her buddy and more that of an irritated teacher who had told the daredevil student one too many times to stop hanging by one arm from the top of the jungle gym.
Adam stifled a chuckle and instead scooped Mira up in his arms and went to sit down on the opposite end of the couch from Violet. Jayda went and sat on her father’s lap.
Adam tucked stray tendrils of Mira’s hair behind her ears and kissed her sweaty forehead. “Did Jayda warn you about playing on the ladder?”
Mira nodded. Big, plump tears marred her rosy cheeks.
“Did you do it anyway?”
She nodded again, sniffling and wiping her eyes with the hem of her dress.
“Did you bonk your head?”
Mira’s bottom lip tipped into a giant pout, and more tears welled up in her eyes as she continued to nod.
Adam sighed. “Let’s survey the damage.” He examined the red bump on her head. “Well, it’ll probably bruise.”
“Am I going to have a goose bonk?” she asked, her chin trembling and her hand traveling to where she’d bumped her head.
Adam smiled. No matter how many times he corrected her, saying it was a goose egg, she refused to call it anything other than a goose bonk. “You might have a goose bonk. Or we could just cut off your head altogether. Up to you.”
Jayda jumped off her father’s lap and beelined it for the kitchen, her blonde ponytail flopping to and fro. She returned seconds later with a dish towel wrapped around something square. “Here. It’s an icepack. Don’t cut off her head. Just put some ice on it, and the bump will go down in no time. My daddy does this for me when I fall. There’s no need to chop off her head.” She fixed Adam with a very serious face. “Heads don’t grow back, you know.”
Mitch threw his head back in laughter, as did Violet.
He was happy to see his woman smiling again.
Adam’s lips twitched as he fought a smile, but he gave up the struggle. “Good to know. Thank you, Jayda. You’re a really good friend.” He took the icepack and held it to Mira’s head. “Does that feel better?”
Mira nodded.
“Once you’re feeling better, we have to get going. Your mom wants to meet at the park for a visit.” He rubbed his daughter’s back. She slumped against his chest.
“I can tell her about my goose bonk. She’ll be very sad for me,” Mira said, her spiked lashes blinking over her stunning blue eyes.
“She probably will be,” he agreed.
“Say hi to Paige for me,” Violet said, tipping back her cider for a sip.
“Will do.” His smile dipped, and he brought his voice down low. “And you be careful, please. Let me know what the cops say about that letter.”
Violet let out a long, exhausted sigh. Her eyes held a fatigue that worried him. Was she getting enough sleep? Or were the unexplainable phone calls and that weird letter keeping her up at night?
“I will,” she said, stretching and pointing her toes, pushing her breasts toward the ceiling. Adam couldn’t help but zero in on her peaked nipples. She caught him staring and grinned a playful smile with a twinkle in her eyes. “And go find your dancing shoes and be ready for practice Wednesday night after my adult contemporary.”
Adam’s smile hurt his face. “Baby, I was born ready.”
17
It was late one Wednesday night a few weeks into rehearsal for the art exhibition. They’d finished dance practice, stripping clothing off as they went, until when they reached the final spin and Adam caught Violet in the air, she was in nothing but her black thong.
Which was just the way he liked it.
After that, they’d been like animals. He took her up against the mirror in the studio, then on the floor, and then finally on the couch in her office, which was where they ended up.
Sweaty from dancing, making love and the fact that June was proving to be a scorcher of a month, they lay naked on her microfiber couch, letting the fan in the corner of her office sweep over their bodies.
Violet shivered next to him. “That cool air is nice. My arms have goosebumps.”
He ran his hands over her arms before spotting a blanket thrown over the back of the couch and dragging it over their bodies.
“Tell me about Jean-Phillipe,” he said quietly, pulling her tighter against his chest. They were in the spoon position, and although he wanted to take her again before they headed home for the night, he needed a few minutes to rally the troops for one more march.
Her body shifted in front of his, and he felt her chest expand on a big inhale, then exhale. “What can I say? We met our first week at the Marie-Claude Rousseau Dance Company, were made partners and fell in love within a month.”
“Soulmates.”
“You could say that. He just got me, you know? Always encouraged me to be my very best, but never in a controlling or demeaning way. Unlike my mother, who was the epitome of a dance mom. He also believed that life needed to be fun and was constantly cracking jokes to make me laugh and smile.”
“He sounds like an amazing man.”
“He was. He was truly amazing.” Her fingers played lightly along the back of his hand and up his arm. He was cupping her breast, but she didn’t seem to mind. “And what a dancer. He never received a bad review. Not once. I got a few, which really hit me hard. But he was always encouraging, telling me the reviewers were probably drunk or insane. And how could the reviewers miss when he stumbled during the second number? They were obviously blind.”
Adam chuckled. “I’m inclined to agree with him. I’ve only seen you dance a bit, but, to me, you’re flawless.”
“Thank you. He was also a heartthrob. Women in the company, other dancers, fans, reviewers, they all threw themselves at him. He received boxes and boxes of fan mail and gifts. There was never a shortage of swooning women with bouquets for him at the end of a show. I think I received all of maybe three bouquets in my years as a dancer, and two were from my father and one was from Mitch.”
“Did these women know he was with you?”
“Oh yes. We were very open about our relationship. But they didn’t care. One night I was feeling ill and headed home right after the show. I didn’t even bother to go to my dressing room. Turns out one of the junior ballerinas, who I honestly don’t even remember—couldn’t pick her out of a lineup if you held a gun to my head—she took that as an opening and was waiting in mine and Jean-Phillipe’s dressing room—naked.”
“Christ, what did he do?”
“What any gentleman would do. He called Marie-Claude, gave Giselle his coat to cover up in, and then Giselle was let go, but Marie-Claude was kind enough to recommend her to a dance company in Chicago. No way was Marie-Claude going to jeopardize her star performer getting caught in a harassment suit. Not that Jean-Phillipe would ever do anything. But people can twist things around when they’re feeling brushed off.”
“Where is Giselle now?”
She shook her head, her straw-colored hair tickling his nose. “No clue. Jean-Phillipe never kept tabs on her, as far as I know.”
“And how did he pass away?”
“Tumor. On his spine.” Her entire body went stiff in his. “He’d been complaining of pain in his lower extremities and back. Tried everything: chiro, physio, acupuncture. Nothing worked. Not for the long term, anyway. He was loath to use his understudy, so he pushed through performances longer than he should have until he collapsed on stage. I had no idea how much pain he was truly in until we finally got him in for an MRI and they found the tumor.”
“Fuck.”
“He did chemo and radiation to try to shrink it, but in the end, surgery was what was needed. He died on the table due to complications. The cancer had also started to spread. He was a ticking time bomb, really.”
Adam squeezed her tighter, feeling the grief and pain course through her. He wished he could hold her long enough to absorb all the hurt, take away the pain. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine.”
“He knew he would probably lose mobility in his legs, or at the very least his ability to perform, if he came out of surgery alive. The damage to his spine was just too extensive. So we made a plan to open up a school.”
He kissed her neck before nuzzling the delicate spot behind her ear. “And you’ve made his dream a reality.”
He could tell she was trying to hold back the tears. Her words were coming out choked, and the sound of faint sniffles drifted over her shoulder. “I’m trying,” she finally said, her body shuddering in his as she inhaled. A long, slow exhale brushed over his hand that still cupped her breast and he felt her body relax into his once again.