A Season to Dance

by Rebecca Heflin

  Olivia bit her lip as she glanced up at Zach.

  This was a conversation better left for privacy, but Zach couldn’t hold back. His hands fisted in his lap. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to dance professionally anymore.”

  Clearing her throat, she frowned at Logan. “I won’t.”

  Logan, seemingly oblivious to the tension that now settled over the table as pervasive as the scent of pepperoni and parmesan, helpfully supplied, “There are other jobs Olivia is perfectly suited for. Like ballet master for one of the larger companies, or artistic director for some of the smaller ones. The Joffrey would like her as the new head of the pre-professional programs. And if Emily is any indication of her eye for talent, she’ll be a tremendous success.”

  Zach had no doubt she’d be a success wherever she went. But he didn’t want her to go anywhere. She could be a success here too, if she’d only see that.

  His phone buzzed with an incoming text. Pulling it from its clip, he read the text from Tyler. The perfect excuse to leave before he did something really stupid. Like beg Olivia to stay. Or find out if a large thick-crust veggie pizza made a good hat. For Logan.

  “Gotta go.” He didn’t lie. Let them think it was business. Aiming to mark his territory, he scooped Olivia from her seat and hauled her into him, kissing her hard and possessive. She squirmed at first then grasped his shirt in her fist. The instant she relaxed into him, he let go. To remind her what they had and leave her wanting more, he thought.

  With a last look into her dazed eyes, he nodded at Logan, whose mouth hung open, and left.

  “Sooo, you and Zach, huh?” Logan prodded as they climbed into the rental van. “That explains a lot.”

  Olivia started the engine and shifted into reverse. “What do you mean?”

  “You never dated much, and when you did, you never talked about the guys with any enthusiasm.”

  She could feel his eyes on her. “How does that explain anything?”

  “I always thought there was someone—either from your past or long-distance.” His voice drifted off, and she thought the conversation was closed. Then he spoke again, “It’s why Giselle was your best work.” Even in the dim interior, she could see the longing on Logan’s face.

  “Oh, Logan.” She reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry. I never realized . . .”

  “It’s okay. You were my friend and my partner. I didn’t want to mess that up. And now . . . well, now I know,” he said, with a sad smile. “The question is, what will you do?”

  She shook her head, giving him her own sad smile. “I don’t know.”

  The remaining five minutes to the house were spent in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. After getting Logan settled in the second guest room, she went down to the kitchen for a glass of wine to soothe her raw nerves.

  She would never have guessed that Logan felt anything for her but friendship. Her heart broke for him. But even if Zach were out of the picture, Olivia would not have felt for Logan what he’d apparently felt for her. He’d always be a dear, dear friend, but nothing more.

  And what was with Zach’s caveman behavior? Was he actually jealous of Logan?

  She’d just poured the wine and taken a sip when she heard what she thought was a soft knock at the front door. Given all the things that had happened the last few months, her pulse quickened, wondering who it could be.

  Olivia tip-toed barefoot to the front door and peered through the peephole to find Zach, still in uniform, standing outside, hands on his hips, looking like sex on a stick. She opened the door, but before she could get a word out, Zach snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, planting his hot mouth on hers. When she finally came up for air, she blinked up at him. “What was that for?”

  He walked her backward into the house, closing the door behind him.

  “I’ve come to stake my claim, Olivia.” His voice husky and demanding.

  “But Logan is here.” She pointed dazedly upstairs.

  He took her hand and led her up the stairs. “Then I guess you’ll just have to be quiet.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Chief Ryder, I would have thought you’d be working today.” Olivia approached him, hands on her hips.

  She’d dressed with the Memorial Day festivities in mind, wearing a red sundress, one of the red, white, and blue bunting pins the local Veterans of Foreign Wars was selling to raise money, and white Keds, her hair in a thick braid down her back.

  “Chief’s prerogative.” He shrugged. “If they need me, I’m here in the midst of the celebrations and immediately available.” He offered his arm like a gallant of old, and she took it, smiling. “With the recital only two weeks away, I would have thought you’d be in the studio.”

  “Some of the girls are performing in a half hour—Caroline Bailey’s hip-hop class. That, and I had to get out and clear my head. I can’t sleep. I go to bed at night with ‘In My Own Little Corner’ or ‘Impossible’ playing in my head on a loop. No disrespect to Rodgers and Hammerstein, but I can promise you, I will not be seeing the Broadway revival of Cinderella anytime soon. If ever.”

  “I could take care of that for you.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Make you sleep like a baby.” She shivered at his warm breath on her skin.

  Hashtag Truth.

  They approached Tyler’s tent, a long line waiting patiently for a pint of his latest summer brew. He and his guys were working the taps, serving beer with a smile. A few tents over, Kristen served up iced coffee, coffee floats, and flavored iced teas and lemonades.

  It appeared all the citizens of Northridge were out for the festivities. The parade had ended an hour earlier, and most everyone had made their way over to the park for corn hole games, watermelon and hotdog-eating contests, family picnics, and local entertainment.

  Later, Northridge’s own military veterans would also be honored for their sacrifice.

  Along with the local businesses selling their goods, the Community Playhouse was selling fresh-baked pies, cookies and cakes. There was a face-painting tent for the kids, a chili cook-off, and a dunking machine where locals could take aim and sink some of Northridge’s prominent citizens like Marshall MacKinnon and Mayor Larson. Given their recent exchange, Zach didn’t plan on trying his hand at dunking him.

  Fireworks would cap off the day-long celebration.

  But in the meantime, the sun was shining, the air was redolent with the scents of kettle corn, hotdogs, and beer. And he had the prettiest girl in Northridge on his arm.

  It didn’t get much better than that.

  Olivia had forgotten what a big deal Memorial Day was in Northridge.

  Kids ran around the park, chasing each other amid squeals of laughter, and played on the playground equipment, while parents looked on and chatted. Friends and neighbors greeted one another, families relaxed on picnic blankets surrounded by coleslaw, fried chicken, and pie.

  The perfect example of a quintessential American holiday celebration.

  “What would you like to do first? Eat? Drink? Watch the tug-o’-war competition between the fire department and the police department?”

  “Are you competing?”

  “No. I’ve got Officers Dillon, Sheldon, and Samuels on that detail—my three burliest guys. I plan to be there for moral support.”

  “Then we’d better go.”

  After cheering on Northridge’s finest (who won their heat, by the way), she and Zach headed back to Kristen’s booth for an ice cream float for Zach and an iced coffee for her.

  On the way, they ran into Logan, who had apparently taken up with the locals, because Olivia rarely saw him except at rehearsals.

  “This is so small-town! And I mean that in the best way possible,” Logan said, as he shoveled a handful of kettle corn in his mouth.

  Zach, who had somewhat put his jealousy aside, asked, “Where’d you grow up?”

  Logan waved a hand indicating the park and the crowd
, “Nowhere as fun as this!”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “He grew up in New York City.”

  Zach drew back with a laugh. “And this is more fun?”

  “Hands down,” Logan confirmed, waving to Emily and Derek over by the celebrity-dunking station.

  “We’re going to get some iced coffee. Want to come?”

  “Sure!”

  When they got to Kristen’s booth, Tyler approached, a beer in hand, and greeted them. Olivia introduced Logan to Tyler then directed her attention to the chalkboard listing the coffee offerings. She gave her order to Leslie, the young lady Kristen hired recently. “I’ll have the iced mocha, and Zach wants the coffee float. Hey, Logan, what do you want?”

  Logan turned and draped an arm across Olivia’s shoulders. “I’ll have what she’s having,” he said, tilting his head in Olivia’s direction.

  Kristen, who had been preparing coffees glanced up, but when her eyes lit on Logan, she blurted, “Mother—” eyeing the crowd, she rethought her word choice, “Nature! Who’s this?”

  Olivia chuckled as Logan preened and stuck out his hand. “Logan Skye.”

  “Logan was my dance partner with The Joffrey,” Olivia explained.

  “Maybe I should have pursued dance.” She wiped her hand on a damp towel then stuck out her hand to shake Logan’s.

  He laid his other hand over hers and said, “Maybe I should have become a barista.”

  “Alrighty then.” Olivia took her and Zach’s coffee with an eyeroll at Leslie and rejoined Zach.

  Shortly before nightfall, Zach and Olivia drove to his house, where he unearthed a couple of sleeping bags from the hall closet and laid them on the grass in the backyard. After telling her to sit and stay with a flirtatious grin, he went back into the house.

  A few minutes later, he came out with an ice bucket containing a bottle of white wine and two glasses.

  Settling beside her on their makeshift bed, he said, “This is the perfect spot to watch the fireworks.” He pointed to the north, over Bailey Park. “They’ll fill the sky there.” For now, the night sounds of insects filled the air, along with the occasional call of a whippoorwill.

  It had been a good day. No major incidents, he’d dunked a good-natured Marshall MacKinnon with one throw, and he’d spent it in the company of Olivia James. Now, if all went as planned, he’d spend the night in her company as well.

  He lifted his glass in a toast, “To beauty.”

  She smiled and returned his toast, “To brawn.” She took a sip. “Mmm. Delicious.”

  He couldn’t resist. He leaned forward and captured her mouth with his, the wine crisp and cold on her lips. He withdrew, but she followed him, pressing her lips to his again.

  Taking the glass from her hand, he set it aside, not caring when it tipped over and spilled into the grass. Laying her back, he followed her down just as the first bursts exploded in the starlit sky.

  Never mind the fireworks. They’d create some of their own.

  Olivia waited outside of Larson Plastics hoping to catch Candy Madison as she left her shift. Her patience paid off when she saw the sandy-blond woman exit the building with a couple of other workers.

  Olivia got out of her car and called Candy’s name.

  Candy stopped short, frowning, then waved goodbye to her co-workers. She approached Olivia with hesitant footsteps. “I thought we’d settled this?” she asked, a little belligerent.

  “I want to apologize. I should never have had this conversation with you when Emily was present. It was disrespectful.”

  This took the wind out of Candy’s sails, and she nodded. “Thank you. Apology accepted.”

  “Can I give you a lift?” Olivia asked, indicating the rental van. She knew from conversations with Emily that her mother rode the bus to and from work.

  “Is this so you can plead your case again?” she asked, a slight smile on her face.

  “Yes,” Olivia said. Why lie?

  “Fine, but only because I’m tired and I don’t want to wait for the bus. But I should warn you, my mind is made up.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  The following Saturday morning, Zach sighed and dropped the sheaf of papers on his desk, pulling his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. This was not good.

  He’d received the credit card records for the Larson family, and after combing through all of Lily’s numerous transactions, he’d turned up nothing. Then Dan’s, then Chloe’s. And other than learning the family spent money like it was going out of style, nothing.

  And then he’d scanned Christopher’s transactions . . . and bingo. The American Express bill had an online purchase from Bingley’s Bees in Waycross a week before Olivia’s accident. And a phone call to Dillon Academy had revealed Christopher’s absence from school for a ‘doctor’s appointment’ the morning of the accident.

  Looked like it was time for a little chat with Christopher Larson.

  Zach entered the studio to find it filled with dancers and non-dancers alike. Studio rehearsal day.

  He knew from past experience that the week before the recital, Carly had held a studio rehearsal of the full production, complete with local townsfolk who would serve in the non-dancing roles.

  There was Tabitha Gillespie, owner of Pints and Paints, along with Dominick Bertolli. Even Derek had finagled a role or two, Zach thought with a smirk, as he caught sight of Derek helping Emily with her props. What wouldn’t a guy do for love? he thought.

  He grimaced. There was one thing Zach didn’t do. He didn’t go with Olivia when he had the chance. But how could he have left his father? Abandoning him like his mother had?

  He couldn’t.

  And now? If—when—Olivia left again, would she ask him to come with her? And would he go?

  Olivia stood at the center of the room, clipboard in hand, directing traffic like an air traffic controller. She looked comfortable being in charge, her confidence as sexy as the black low-back leotard she wore. He knew she’d been drinking from a firehose these last three months, but it appeared that everything was coming together, despite the roadblocks thrown in her way.

  Couldn’t she see she was in her element? She didn’t need to move back to Chicago, San Francisco, or any other big city to contribute to the art form she loved. Unlike before, this time she could do it right here in Northridge.

  “That’s a wrap, everyone.” Olivia’s voice rose over the hum of the cast. “Thank you for taking the time out of your Saturday to rehearse. Remember, dress rehearsal next Saturday, promptly at nine a.m.”

  The crowd gradually dispersed, leaving in groups of twos and threes, voices raised in enthusiasm over the rehearsal and the upcoming performance.

  She seemed tired and a little frayed around the edges, but her face lit up when she spotted him, and his heart leapt at the sight. “Zach! What are you doing here? Decide you want a role in the show?”

  He chuckled and kissed her, short and sweet. “Negative. Besides, it looks like you’ve got plenty of volunteers.”

  “Great rehearsal,” Logan said with a grin, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “You’re a natural, Giselle.”

  Zach hated that he had to look up to the man and suppressed the urge to forcibly remove his arm, nodding a greeting to Logan instead.

  “Right,” Logan removed the offending appendage, as if he read Zach’s mind. “I’m joining the Gillespie’s for dinner. Don’t wait up,” he said with a wink then threw his bag over his shoulder and followed a group out.

  “He’s become quite chummy with some of the townsfolk,” Olivia said with a laugh and a shake of her head.

  As she set aside her clipboard, Zach rubbed her arm. “Can we talk a minute?”

  She frowned at the request then nodded, leading him over to one the benches along the wall. A few dancers still lingered, practicing steps or putting their dance shoes away. Derek and Emily laughed as she tried to teach him how to hold her for a dance step.

  “I think I’ve found the culprit,
and you were right.”

  “Christopher.” It was a statement rather than a question.

  “Bingo.” Zach told Olivia what he’d found on Christopher’s credit card statement.

  Before Olivia could respond, Derek interjected. “Christopher? You think he was the one who put the bees in the van?” he asked, eyeing Olivia and Zach.

  Cutting a glance at Olivia, Zach turned to Derek. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

  Emily had come up behind Derek, listening with interest, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

  “I saw him. He was nosing around the van one day—outside the studio. When I asked him what he was doing, he told me to . . .” he shot an uncomfortable gaze at Olivia, “he told me to F off, then got in his car and left.”

  “When was this?” Zach pressed.

  Derek scratched his head, thinking. “It must have been the Monday Olivia said I could be in the show.” He colored a little at that.

  “You’re sure about that?”

  Pausing a moment, Derek appeared to be concentrating. “Yeah. Because it was the same day Christopher and I had that, um, altercation.”

  “Why didn’t you come forward with this information earlier?”

  “I didn’t really remember it or put it together until you said Christopher’s name just now.”

  Zach nodded. “Okay. I’ll need you to make a statement.”

  “Yeah. Sure. He’s a d—” Zach coughed, and Derek swallowed what he was about to say, “um, a jerk, anyway.”

  “And then what?” Olivia asked, her arms crossed in front of her.

  “I get a warrant for Christopher’s arrest.”

  Christopher wore the smirk of a punk whose parents always bailed him out and certain they would do it again. But they’d have a hard time when the charges could include attempted murder.