by Zoe Chant
Dancing Bearfoot
By Zoe Chant
Copyright Zoe Chant 2016
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Sneak Preview: In the Billionbear's Den
Chapter One
Lee lay awake for a long moment without opening his eyes, not ready to be awake, and not sure why he was.
"Someone is watching us," his bear supplied, wary and grouchy.
Lee opened his eyes at last, and found the cause of his uneasy feeling staring at him across the empty spread of bed. Blue eyes that matched his own were framed with white-blonde curls that were nothing like his own dark locks.
"I start preschool today," Clara told him, matter-of-factly. "I dressed myself. But I couldn't tie my shoes." The offending shoes, a worn pair of sneakers with pink cartoon bears, were laying on the bed between them. The knotted laces showed her efforts.
Lee groaned, and looked at the clock on the bedside table. "It's five in the morning," he explained.
"I don't want to be late."
Lee refrained from trying to explain details about time to a four-year-old, and resigned himself to getting up. He snagged a pair of pants from a moving box and padded barefoot across the thick carpet to sweep Clara up and toss her effortlessly onto the wide bed while he got dressed.
She giggled and tumbled, then sat up seriously. "Will my new teacher like me?" she asked anxiously.
"You don't need to worry about that, cub!" Lee was quick to assure her. "You're going to have a great time. Aunt Bella says it's the best school in the whole town."
Like the concept of time, it was pointless to add that the entire town was only thirteen hundred people strong, and there had not been a choice at all. If the preschool did not work out, he could pack them back up and move them to another town, but Lee was weary of moving, and tired of cities. He already loved the house they had found, and the quaint little town of Green Valley. His bear loved the wilderness that was only a short wander out his backdoor. If the preschool didn't work out, maybe he would just hire another nanny and keep Clara home. He was suddenly hopeful that his daughter wouldn't get along with the teacher.
"Would you like a special breakfast?" he offered, to distract her. "You can help me wash dishes, afterward."
Clara's face lit up. "Yes! Pancakes! With blueberries! Can I make the bubbles for the dishes?"
Lee helped Clara off the bed and took her little hand in his own. "Pancakes it is. And you can make all the bubbles, because it's your first day of preschool." He wondered when she would grow up enough to realize that washing dishes wasn't really the treat he made it out to be.
He was still looking for a reason not to like the preschool as he drove the beater company truck he had borrowed from his construction company up to the quaint little house. Despite his efforts, and Clara's insanely early wake-up, they were still running late. It had started to snow, and he didn't want to push the truck too fast on the slushy streets. It had also, somehow, taken twenty minutes to get Clara into her winter coat and out the door, despite her eagerness to go.
He unstrapped Clara from her carseat and followed her with growing reluctance up the snowy steps. He wondered if he should have insisted she wear her winter boots, rather than the pink bear tennis shoes, but she scampered up and was pushing open the door before the snow had a chance to stick to her legs.
The door opened to a tiny Arctic entryway. Clara would have pushed further on, but Lee noticed the rack of coats and stopped her. "Here, honey, let's take off your coat."
She squirmed and fussed while he unzipped her and hung her coat on an empty hook.
It was warm, noisy chaos behind the second door. Children laughed and played at activity stations around the room, and someone was playing a cheerful song on a slightly tinny upright piano. As the musician, unseen, ended with a flourish, some of the children clapped in delight.
He wasn't ready. He'd been a fool to think he could do this–to leave Clara with some stranger for so many hours? He would just tell the old woman that he'd made a mistake, that Clara would be too anxious, that... he cast about in his mind for some excuse. That he'd forgotten her lunch? He settled a scowl on his face; that was often enough to send weak-willed people running, and maybe she wouldn't ask why he was withdrawing Clara from her class.
But Clara, not at all bothered by the noise, was trotting forward, her lunch clutched in one hand and the other pulling him reluctantly forward. "Her name is Miss Patricia," she said enthusiastically. "Aunt Bella said so."
Then "Miss Patricia" was bouncing out from behind the piano, and Lee's excuses died on his lips.
The gray bun and glasses he had imagined were nowhere to be seen. The tiny, ancient woman he had envisioned bore no resemblance to the blonde goddess who was smiling down at his daughter. She was tall and curvy, with big, brown eyes and straw-blonde hair loose to her shoulders. Energy radiated from her, and Lee felt like the floor had fallen away.
"You must be Clara," she was saying. Her voice sounded very far away–the sounds of the room had tunneled away in the shock of seeing her.
"I am," Clara said confidently. "I'm four. I brought my lunch."
"Let me show you where to put that," Miss Patricia said, and as she straightened, she met Lee's eyes.
Lee had never believed in soulmates; he thought the whole idea of a destined mate was ridiculous, made up for people who need comforting fiction to get through their lives. But the teacher's eyes, infinite pools of brown warmth, were the first place he had ever felt truly home. The bear in him rumbled in delight.
"You must be Mr. Montgomery," she said, and her voice was as rich as her eyes, with the subtle Midwestern accent that he hadn't known he adored.
Lee realized she was holding out her hand, and had no idea how long it had been there. "Lee," he said swiftly, reaching out too fast to shake it. Touching her skin was like being struck by lightning, and he had to make himself let go after a handshake that was too long and trailed away into simply holding onto her. He had never wanted so badly to kiss a complete stranger.
"Lee," she said, with amusement. "It's nice to meet you."
Then Clara was slipping out of his other hand and following the golden woman away. She moved like a dancer, all grace and efficiency of motion. If she filled out her flowered country shirt nicely, she filled out her simple jeans even better, and Lee was mesmerized to watch her bend over to show Clara where to put her lunch. Down at their level, she suddenly became a magnet to the children, and was swiftly swarmed by small people demanding her attention.
More attractive than her curves and soft hair–which were enough by themselves to send Lee into a stupor of desire–was an air of gentle affection that glowed around her. Her sweet smile and careful handling of the childrens' attention was enchanting to watch. She knew just which ones needed a little playful redirection of their energy, and which ones needed a gentle nudge to boost their confidence. Her movements were never sharp or angry. Her attention flowed between them seamles
sly, and the entire room was warmed by her simple presence.
Lee did not realize that he was standing there, staring stupidly, until Clara trotted back to him and pulled on his hand. "Papa, you're supposed to leave now."
Lee felt his cheeks heat unexpectedly– he couldn't remember the last time he had blushed–and knelt to give Clara a swift hug. "Have a fun day, cub," he told her, and then he turned and fled in a rush of confusion.
***
Patricia knew that the first day of preschool after any break–even just Christmas–was always as much about the parents as it was the children. Few of them were really ready to say goodbye, and they dealt poorly with the children who were clingy. But so far, only one child that morning needed any serious distraction, and she was enchanted with the class rabbit in short order.
Harriette Ambler, as expected, was the worst of the mothers, a perfect storm of condescending and demanding. Her son, Trevor, was a meek little angel, but to hear Harriette talk–right in front of the poor boy!–he was a perfect devil, and she clearly doubted that Patricia was up to the challenge for a second semester. She elbowed a little girl out of the way in order to get Patricia's attention, and detailed the contents of his lunch (which were also written on the outside of his lunch bag), and insisted that he was not to participate in rough play or, from the sounds of it, anything fun. Patricia managed to catch Trevor's eye while his mother was turned away, and rolled her eyes at him with an exaggerated shrug. She was rewarded with a shy half-smile, swiftly hidden as Harriette scolded him for slouching.
"I'm sure we'll manage, Harriette," Patricia assured her buoyantly. "We'll see you at two!" Then she was able to herd Trevor off to a painting station and walk away to the piano. Left without an audience, the infuriating woman finally left, and Patricia launched into a cheerful song to celebrate.
The last parent on Patricia's list and the only one that she didn't already know was Leland Montgomery. In some ways, he was exactly as she expected–and in some ways nothing at all as she'd envisioned.
His sister, Bella, had explained that he was a single father, and Patricia braced herself for a spoiled or neglected child and a harried father who couldn't even be bothered to arrange his own child's education. She was unsurprised that he was running late, and came out from around the piano braced for excuses and unpleasant conflict–he would either be the kind of single father who hated women for hurting him, or the overprotective sort who would never believe their child had flaws. Either way, being late would already put him on the defensive.
The first shock was his size. He made the schoolhouse feel small with his great bulk. He played football in high school, she guessed, with those fabulous shoulders. He probably worked construction now. A glance out of the window confirmed that guess– a battered company truck was parked in front of the school.
But he didn't look like a blue-collar worker, despite the worn plaid shirt and the big hands. He looked like a model playing at being a lumberjack, with fine cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. A mop of thick dark hair above glowering eyebrows looked as artful and deliberate as the stubble across his chiseled jaw. It was the kind of face and build that made Patricia's knees feel weak, and she had to focus on the daughter––or embarrass herself by drooling, or possibly fainting dramatically at his feet. Since she was far too large and awkward to look good fainting, Patricia was happy to exchange smiles with the little girl instead.
Clara was as adorable as only a four-year-old with curls could be. Her chubby-cheeked smile of trust and excitement was the whole reason that Patricia had become a teacher. Meeting her father's watchful gaze gave her whole new reasons for other things, and Patricia had to reach deep to find the calmness to say, "You must be Mr. Montgomery."
"Lee," he said shortly, with a scowl, and he reached out to give her hand a shake. The touch of his hand on her own was like jumping into a cool swimming hole on a sweltering day, all shock and relief and excitement at once. He had calluses that confirmed her guess about his occupation, big, strong, rough-fingered hands that made her own feel small and dainty. She forgot to let go until it had become awkward.
"Lee," she repeated like an idiot, savoring the simple syllable. "It's nice to meet you."
Fortunately, Clara broke her stupor with her childlike enthusiasm, and Patricia was able to peel herself away from the gorgeous man to show her across the room to where the child cubbies were so she could stow her lunch.
"It has my name!" Clara exclaimed in delight, and she could point out all the letters. "I have two As," the little girl assured her solemnly. "But they aren't together."
That drew the attention of a little boy named Aaron, who pointed out that his As were together, and then they were the center of a swarm of children who wanted to meet the new girl. Coming from such a small town, the rest all knew each other already.
"We just moved here from the city," Clara told them. "Our house is falling apart, but Daddy will make it like new."
That prompted questions about the city, and Amber begged Patricia to read the City Mouse book, and somewhere in the chaos Clara slipped away to see her father and shoo him out the door. Patricia didn't watch him go, but could feel his exit from the room as if he'd taken all of the light with him. She had never been so disappointed to see a parent leave and wished for a foolish moment that Clara had been more needy and given him reason to linger longer.
Chapter Two
Lee had no intention of being late to pick up Clara.
It had been embarrassing enough to arrive late dropping her off, but more than that, he could not wait to see Patricia again. He caught himself rubbing the hand she had held throughout the day, and thinking about that laughter in her eyes and the way her mouth moved when she spoke. His bear grumbled impatiently inside, eager to be in her magnetic presence again as soon as possible.
His was the first vehicle parked in front of the old schoolhouse, and he had to make himself wait until the hands on his watch showed that he was only a few minutes early. Just as he unlatched the rusty door to the borrowed truck, another car drove up, and he paused so they could pull in beside him. The woman who exited the unreasonably shiny purple Chrysler had fluffy hair more suited for the 80s piled on top of her head, a cellphone in one hand and was wearing high heels that were utterly silly in the slushy snow. As Lee extricated himself carefully from the truck–she had parked foolishly close and slightly crooked–he must have growled a little, because he suddenly had all of her unwelcome attention.
Blue eyes widened, and her existing conversation miraculously became unimportant. The cellphone was being tucked into a designer purse as she met him at the front of their vehicles.
"Oh heavens," she said breathlessly. "I didn't leave you much room there, did I." Observing this somehow entailed squeezing right up next to him and leaning past him to examine the gap.
"Nope."
Lee hoped that the brief answer would suffice for conversation, but the woman clutched her hand to her chest as if she had committed some heinous offense. "I'm so sorry!" she said dramatically. "It's such a new car, you know. I'm just not sure where I am when I'm driving!"
Lee refrained from noting that she was clearly not sure where she was when she wasn't driving, and backed off a step to retain some personal space. "It's fine," he said shortly, hoping to get past her.
She seemed to think his acceptance was license for further conversation. "I'm Harriette," she introduced herself, holding out a hand to shake that Lee could only helplessly compare to Patricia's. It was a tiny, limp hand, with overdone nails, flawlessly smooth skin, and none of Patricia's warmth or strength. "You must be Mr..."
"Montgomery," Lee said shortly, deliberately not offering his first name.
Harriette paused a moment, expecting it, and finally moved on, not yet relinquishing his hand. "Mr. Montgomery," she savored. "It's so lovely to meet you! You've just moved in, then?"
Lee recovered his hand, and nodded. He was disappointed that his usual scowl was not havin
g the usual effect.
"I work in real estate," Harriette explained without invitation. She looked thoughtful and then guessed, "You must have bought the old Lawson place!"
"Yes." Lee wondered if he could elbow past her without being rude, as another car pulled up, then another, disgorging a flurry of mothers who converged on their space. Harriette looked affronted, but managed to turn it to her advantage by introducing him to the gaggle of women as if she were in a privileged position of knowledge.
"This is Mr. Montgomery," she told them, as if they were long-time chums. "He's bought the old Lawson place."
"Oh, the old Lawson place," a brunette with a short bob said eagerly, pushing forward to hang on his handshake. The wedding ring on her hand didn't seem to deter her from all but drooling on him. "That's such a lovely big house. A shame they let it get so run down."
"I'll be restoring it," Lee felt conversationally obligated to say, and this prompted an interested murmur, with speculative looks at the battered company truck. He was beginning to regret his choice to put on nicer clothing to pick up Clara; his efforts to make a better impression with Patricia were having the unfortunate side effect of making him look monetarily desirable to the housewife brigade.
To his relief, the door to the farmhouse opened then and a herd of children padded in coats and boots and overseen by a watchful assistant that wasn't Patricia came scampering down to interrupt them. He was able to pick Clara out of the crowd and swing her into his arms. "I like preschool," she said cheerfully.
"What a charming little girl," Harriette gushed at him, entirely ignoring the little boy who had come up to hand her the craft they had created that day. "She's so adorable!"
"We got to paint, and there was music and there is a rabbit and Aaron has two As together in his name and we sang songs and I wrote my name on this for you!" Clara's monologue was a welcome excuse to ignore Harriette, which Lee cheerfully did. He considered the gauntlet of other women eyeing him speculatively between him and the schoolhouse, then decided that retreat was to be preferred to attempting to see Patricia. He brushed past the obnoxious little woman and went around the truck to tuck Clara into her carseat. He would catch Patricia another time.