Several kids from the eleven-year-old class trundled in behind Cole, their energy filling the room with laughter and childlike joy. Isabella was with them. She remained aloof, as if waiting for someone to give her permission to join the group. Her previous demeanor of embarrassed shame that had clung to her while in her mother’s company was missing, and she stood a little taller and smiled more.
Cole turned his attention back to Mrs. Williams and made his way to the bleachers, where she’d taken a seat. He contemplated sitting next to her. What would it hurt? She was wearing a wedding ring and therefore safe. “Mind if I join you?”
The young seamstress gave him an uncertain look before scooting in to allow room for him.
Cara offered him a smile. “We’re talking about costumes, Cole. Indigo is going to measure the girls today before watching the rehearsal.” She turned toward Indigo. “Why don’t you explain to Cole your plan while Phillip and I corral the kids?” She left as another child sauntered into the studio.
Cole turned to Mrs. Williams, who gave him a wary look. “I’ll only have this conversation if you call me Indigo or Indi. I’m uncomfortable with Mrs. Williams.” Her gaze was direct.
Cole was taken aback. He wasn’t sure why he had refused to use this young woman’s first name. He didn’t have the same hesitation with Cara and Phillip, and he constantly chided Trey for calling him “sir.” But there were others he preferred to call Mrs. It came with the need to put up a barrier of protection from those who would use him for his money. Now, this young woman was tearing that wall down before he had a chance to create another. It left him feeling exposed. “But we’re not that familiar,” he countered.
“It’s not about familiarity. It’s about having an informal working relationship. This isn’t the Royal Ballet in London, and I’m not a member of your staff. We’re two people working together for kids.”
A stiff breeze of displeasure blew through Cole. He frowned. “What do you know about my staff?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Indigo replied. Her body relaxed. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I’m sizing Alyssa Malcomb’s wedding dress, and she told me her mother works for you. That’s all I know.”
Cole softened. “Ahh, right. Alyssa. She’s a sweet girl, and her mother is a wonderful cook and a great help to me.” He let out a pent-up breath in spite of some stubborn piece of him that wanted to slide a new brick into his defenses. Somehow, knowing she was friends with the people he valued made it easier to relax. He smiled. “Indigo it is.”
Indigo returned his smile, further solacing Cole’s troubled feelings as he took in the merry light that came from her deep blue eyes. Her whole face lit up in a dazzling display of genuine happiness. “Good. Can I ask you a question?” Indigo hedged.
“Sure.”
“How interested are you really in children’s costumes?”
Cole’s guard struggled to rise, but the warm and honest question intrigued him. “What makes you ask?”
Indigo shrugged. “I can show you as little or as much as you like. If you’re just wanting to keep tabs on the financial end of things, I’ll package everything you need. I can include the final sketches, fabric swatches, and receipts. If you want to see more of the creative side, I’ll show you the process.”
Suddenly, more than anything, Cole wished to understand the imagination behind Indigo’s work. He wanted to see raw fabric brought together with lace and thread to create something beautiful. Still, he held back as thoughts of Jessica began creating a costume of lies inside his head. In vivid color, she floated between him and the young woman next to him, refusing to go back to the past where she belonged. Along with her image came the creeping shame that rose like a flame from his gut.
“What is it?” Indigo asked softly.
“Nothing.” He turned to her steady look, a fresh comfort rising from their shared gaze dousing out the burning shame that he’d somehow failed. He glanced at her wedding ring. He didn’t need to keep his guard up in her company. There was already a natural barrier, and it started with the ring on her finger. Maybe they could be friends. “I’d love to see how you work,” he replied.
She rewarded him with another brilliant smile. “Okay, then. By the time we’re done, you’ll be able to put a ballroom dress together in no time.”
Cole joined in her laughter. “Don’t worry,” he joked. “I won’t give you any competition.”
Indigo pursed her lips, but her eyes held a teasing and merry light. “You’d better not. Maybe I need to have you sign a noncompete clause if I’m going to teach you everything I know.”
Cara came up with one young man. “Indigo, Cole. This is Paul.”
Indigo turned her attention to the young preteen. “Hello, Paul.” She offered him her hand.
The young man blushed as he quickly shook Indigo’s hand. “Hi.”
Indigo became all business. “I’ve taken a look at your sketches, Cara, and I love your designs. Since we’re doing ballroom in the park, I’m wanting the costumes to be a rich forest green. I’d like to keep the boys’ costumes simple with black pants and shirt with a green bow tie, a handkerchief, and green cuffs on their shirt.”
“Can we just buy those and then have them fitted closer to the performance?” Cara asked.
Indigo nodded. “That’s a good idea, but I’ll make the ties, cuffs, and handkerchiefs. Do you have a store you like for clothing?”
“We’ve got an online supplier.”
“That’ll be perfect,” Indigo remarked. “Let’s wait on the boys until we’re closer to the event, so we can get the best fit.”
“So you don’t need me right now?” Paul asked.
“You’re off the hook,” Indigo laughed. “But can you send over one of the girls?”
Cole watched Indigo’s easy interactions with the young man. Everything about her was gentle and full of grace, inviting him near. The breezy scent of almonds mingled with the warmth of her skin, emanating towards him on some unknown frequency that both delighted and unsettled him. He pulled his thoughts away. She was married, and he was hoping for friendship, not romance.
“Sure thing.” Paul smiled and hurried to the opposite end of the studio, where the rest of the dance group worked with Phillip. He tapped Isabella on the shoulder, pointing in Cole and Indigo’s direction.
Cole heard Indigo gasp as the young girl began moving toward them with grace and poise. She practically floated over the hardwood floor. He gave Indigo a quick glance, but the seamstress’s eyes were focused on Isabella and her easy movement.
“She’s so graceful,” Indigo whispered. “She moves like fairy dust.”
Cole leaned in, trying to ignore the airy scent of almonds. “Out of all the kids, she’s the one with the most talent. If she works hard, there’s no telling where she’ll go.” He settled back in his seat. It might be nice to have a female friend, but he’d have to be careful. Indigo was attractive, and she carried a gentle vulnerability that spoke to him. Within the few minutes he’d spent in her company, Jessica’s earlier hold on him had loosened its steely grip, and a new, fragile freedom took its place.
He glanced at Indigo and traced her profile in his mind as she studied Isabella. It would be a good idea for him to learn more about Indigo’s husband. Did he also live in Eureka Springs, or was he in Oregon? Maybe he could meet him someday. “What does your husband think of your decision to work with a bunch of eleven-year-olds?”
A stiff coldness grew between them. Indigo’s eyes focused on the ground. She whispered, “My husband passed away a year and a half ago.”
A careening loss of balance overtook Cole. That was not the answer he’d been expecting. He turned toward Indigo, and a mixture of sorrow and guilt along with some unnamed emotion clamored through him. He didn’t mean to bring that sad look into her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t aware. I would’ve never asked if I’d known. Forgive me, I’m …”
Indigo met Cole’s gaze, revealing both a depth of pain Cole h
ad never before seen and an expression of gentle acceptance. “No. Please, don’t be sorry. There’s no way you could’ve known, especially with my wedding ring still on my finger.”
Cole gazed at Indigo’s small, feminine hand. The eternity band of diamonds winked at him. “He must’ve been quite a man, if you still wear his ring.”
Indigo nodded, a smile coming to her lips. “Yes. The other day, a friend told me he was the lover of my youth. I can’t think of a better way to describe Sam.”
Cole studied Indigo for a moment. Her face softened in both lovely memory and suffering. “Is that why you moved from Oregon?”
Indigo blinked. “Yeah. And it’s why I won’t be going back.”
Cole longed to take Indigo’s hand and squeeze it within his own fingers to offer solace. She wore sorrow like a shivering winter’s day, and he wished to provide her warmth or some other comfort. But there was no way to know how she would respond to his attempts to soothe her, and he didn’t want to intrude into her private world of touch, where only her husband lived. “He is a lucky man to have you be so constant to his memory,” he murmured.
Indigo’s eyes grew large. “Thank you,” she said. “And thank you for putting him in the present tense.” Her face lit up from an ember within. “That means a lot to me.”
Isabella arrived but hung back.
Indigo turned and smiled at the girl standing before her. “Are you ready to be measured?” she asked brightly.
Cole was both grateful and sorry that the private moment was over. For five minutes, Cole had forgotten his troubles with Jessica and realized there were worse losses, and Indigo’s honest vulnerability had begun to untangle some unseen and tightly bound knot within his heart.
Isabella shyly pointed to the sketches in Indigo’s lap. “Is that what we’re going to wear?” she asked.
“Something pretty close. Would you like to take a look?”
Isabella’s eyes grew large. “Yes, please.”
Indigo turned the sketch around for the young girl to see.
She studied the drawing. “It’s so pretty.” She lightly drew her finger across the sketch.
“I’m glad you like it. It’s Cara’s design,” Indigo replied. “And she’s given me permission to change it any way I’d like.”
“What color will it be?”
“I’m thinking forest green. It’ll look lovely with your blond hair and hazel eyes,” Indigo answered.
Isabella blushed. “I can’t wait to put it on.” Her eyes shone with excitement.
“Well, the first step is to get you measured.”
The girl blushed again, and Cole read her hesitancy. “Why don’t I just leave it to the two of you?” he said. “You can show me your plans later, Indigo.” He stood, hesitant to leave the easy and companionable space he and Indigo created.
“No. You stay. Isabella and I can work in the area Cara and Phillip have created for me. It’ll give us some privacy.” Indigo stood, and Isabella followed her. Both of them disappeared into Indigo’s partitioned work area, leaving Cole deflated.
He stood, walked to the far end of the bleachers, and sat, watching Cara and Phillip organize the kids into pairs to begin warm-up. Once all the joking was finished, they began to seriously work through the music, their steps, and something deeper.
Their instruction went beyond learning steps or counting out the beats to the music. Cara and Phillip fostered connection. The kids were encouraged to look each other in the eyes, to lead and follow through the slightest of pressure to the hand, shoulder, waist, or back. Each of them needed to know where they stood in relation to their own body and the form of their partner. Eventually, their eyes would travel away from their partner, but by then the reciprocity of touch would be so familiar, they would be able to move without eye contact. Even now, Cara and Phillip devoted some of their practice time to a more advanced form of ballroom that required greater skill and deeper partnership.
In some ways, Cole envied the kids and their ability to connect with one another on such a level of generous purity. Yes, they were sometimes shy and reserved in the close company of someone of the opposite sex. But they’d been working together for months now, and a lovely familiarity was beginning to blossom without the jaded experiences of betrayal or hurt that so often accompanied adulthood.
Cole watched the dancers, but his thoughts were focused on Indigo. What must it be like to lose a spouse, someone you promised to cherish for life? He recalled her softened features as she talked about Sam. Obviously, his passing hadn’t dimmed her love for him. She still wore his ring and appreciated him being referred to in the present tense. His thoughts tumbled over such devotion, and he ached for it.
He tried to brush the new emotion aside. Devotion was hardly something he and Jessica had shared.
He settled back against the wall, refusing to give Jessica any more time for the evening. Instead, he focused on his own dance lesson that would be coming right after the kids’ practice. He enjoyed coming early to watch the preteens and their young effort at something hard. Their consistent work gave him hope and helped him remember that there was both improvement and glory in the striving. He appreciated their parents’ acceptance of him, although he knew several mothers watched him closely. He didn’t mind. It was just nice to be here. Cara and Phillip, along with their students, offered him friendly association and a place to feel at home—a place Jessica hadn’t touched and would never know.
The studio door creaked open, drawing Cole’s attention. Standing in the open doorway was Pamela Smithers, Isabella’s mother. She was the one mother who watched Cole for all the wrong reasons. A trail of wet leaves followed the woman indoors along with the wet wintry air. “Oh my goodness.” Pamela fumbled through the door before raising her foot and fiddling with the strap of her barely there red slingback heels. “This rain is going to ruin my shoes.”
Cole glanced at Pamela, dressed in black skinny jeans, a tight black fuzzy turtleneck sweater, and spiked red stilettos, a completely inappropriate shoe for this weather and Eureka Spring’s notoriously uneven and dangerous sidewalks.
She stood straight, shaking her umbrella over the wood floor and looking around until her eyes found Cole.
Cole shifted in his seat. He didn’t like the constant attention from Pamela. Her ingratiating appreciation for his efforts on behalf of Isabella’s lessons and his other contributions to the dance troupe rang hollow and were filled with some sort of expectation.
He turned from the woman and centered his attention on the lesson as the kids began their rehearsal in earnest.
Pamela carefully made her way up the bleachers and sat next to Cole, bringing with her the smell of wet hairspray and cheap rose perfume. He tried to stop the assault on his nostrils at the overwhelming aroma, without any luck. It overrode all of his other senses, and before long, he could taste the stickiness of it. It left him with the surprise desire for the scent of sweet almonds, and he wished for Indigo’s return, just for the smell of her. He turned toward the curtained area where Indigo was working with Isabella before he could stop himself.
Settling next to him, Pamela looked around the studio. “Where’s Isabella?”
Cole gave her a quick glance. “She’s being measured for her dance costume.”
Pamela nodded. “So, how are things going?”
Cole scooched closer to the wall, crossing his legs away from the woman. “Good afternoon, Ms. Smithers. I think things are just getting started.”
Pamela inched closer. “I’d like to think so,” she whispered, her wet, fuzzy sweater against his arm.
The smell of tacky hairspray kicked Cole’s stomach into revulsion as the pressure from Pamela’s chest pushed into his bicep. “Please, Ms. Smithers,” he began. “I’m only here to watch over my investment in the arts. I think your daughter would appreciate your attention more than I.”
Pamela’s eyes narrowed for a brief moment before her face turned into a smile. “I can’t imagine what w
ould make a man like you take interest in this little dance school, unless you’d also carry some interest in the parents.” She stood and, with a swing of her hips, began making her way down the bleachers just as Isabella and Indigo exited the curtained work area.
Pamela hurried toward Isabella, her hands fluttering around her daughter. “Why aren’t you dancing?” she asked. “Paul is waiting for you.”
Isabella’s face colored.
Indigo offered Pamela a patient smile. “I’m just working on getting the girls measured. Would you like to see what we’re doing?” Indigo held up several sketches along with a swatch of cloth.
Pamela shook her head, shooting a quick look in Cole’s direction. “No. Thanks. Isabella can tell me about it when we’re finished here.”
Isabella gave her mother a quick glance before hurrying to her partner. She sent another girl for measurements. Within thirty minutes, Indigo was finished. She settled back onto the front row of the bleachers. Cole hoped she would give him a glance, but she kept her attention riveted on the kids.
Pamela moved close to Indigo, who scooched a few inches away. In true Pamela fashion, she wasn’t evaded so easily. She moved again, this time placing a hand on Indigo’s arm. She spoke directly, her eyes intently focused.
Other parents had sauntered in over the last thirty minutes, but Cole was the only one paying any attention to the conversation between Indigo and Isabella’s mother. Indigo’s face folded into a frown, and her brow knotted together as she moved Pamela’s hand from her arm while speaking in low tones.
A shock moved through Cole when Pamela glanced up at him and then again at Indigo. Whatever they were talking about had something to do with him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Normally, Pamela’s remarks didn’t matter, but this time they mattered a great deal. More than he imagined or wanted.
His pulse ticked up a beat as the corner of a startling truth revealed itself. He didn’t want Pamela getting in the middle of whatever he and Indigo were creating. Both he and Indigo had suffered loss, and their shared experience offered him something tender and freeing. He studied Indigo. She was pretty, but not in a sparkling way. Her beauty was simple and understated, and her smile brightened his every thought of her, easing his own private suffering from Jessica’s betrayal. Indigo had endured incredible anguish too. Now that he understood her terrible loss, making Indigo smile brought him more pleasure than it could ever bring her. He hoped he’d be given another opportunity to create that kind of moment, where her blue eyes turned toward him with that soft light he’d witnessed earlier.
Her Billionaire Betrayal (Billionaire Bachelor Mountain Cove Book 3) Page 4