by Dancing
"Hoagie?" He offered her one of the two sand-
wiches he held.
"No, thanks. You could help me out with some-
thing, though."
"Name it."
She took a potato chip from the table and a plastic
cup filled with Coke. "I, um, need to talk to Dalton, and
he's not answering his cell." Considering she hadn't
even tried his cell, Rose supposed she should at least
cross her fingers over the lie. But seeing how badly she
wanted to see Dalton face-to-face, she hoped her fib was
justified. "You wouldn't happen to have his street ad-
dress, would you?"
"I couldn't tell you the mailing address, but could
probably give you a fair set of directions and a descrip-
tion of his house."
"That'll do." She fished a pen and notepad from her
purse.
Nose scrunched, he asked, "Haven't you been to his
place before?"
A nervous laugh escaped her. "It's funny, but we
usually hang at my loft. You know, since Dalton's
always there anyway for his lessons."
"Sure. Makes sense."
He took a bite of his sandwich, then told her the way.
Rose squinted through the drizzle on what had turned
into an especially black night, and hoped she'd found
the right house. She pulled her Jetta into the driveway
of the oak-ringed, two-story southern colonial that
looked big enough for a family of eight.
The lights were out save for one in a rear side
window. She looked for signs of Dalton's presence, but
if his SUV was there, he'd parked it in the garage.
Figuring she owed it to herself to at least see if he
lived in the mini-mansion, she turned off the engine
and trudged on a winding brick sidewalk.
With a deep breath, she stepped up to the front
porch.
One more breath gave her the courage to ring the
doorbell.
When no one answered, she rang again.
Shoulders hunched against the damp chill, frustration
tight in her chest, she'd turned for her car when the
door opened.
Wearing jeans and nothing else, Dalton stood back,
gesturing for her to come inside.
Avoiding the sight of his smooth, muscled chest, she
instead focused on the immense formal dining room off
to her right. The empty formal dining room. The entry hall
was more of a two-story gallery. A staircase gracefully
arched to a balcony that would be amazing for a bride
intent on making a grand entrance. The white marble
floor inlaid with black marble diamonds was both elegant
and serene, the blank walls—eerie. As best she could tell,
the whole place was vacant of furniture, and life.
Arms crossed to ward off a shiver caused not by the
weather but the massive void, Rose said, "I, um, like
what you've done with the place."
Dalton sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Where's Anna?"
"She has a sleepover with Becca."
He nodded. "She did well tonight."
"I thought so, too. In fact, everyone did an amazing
job. I wasn't expecting it to be such a large production."
"Why are you here?" he asked.
"I'm not completely sure." Edging past him, she
boldly left the entry for what she guessed was the living
room. In front of a lifeless fireplace was a card table and
folding chair.
Beyond that, a two-story family room, also with
a fireplace, that looked over a chef's dream of a
kitchen. Also...bare.
"Do much entertaining?" she asked, carrying a half-
dead ivy to the sink for a shot of water.
"I try to be here as little as possible. The place has
never been my style."
"Why'd you buy it?"
"I had to live somewhere. This house is as good as any."
"I'm hungry," she said, opening the fridge. No great
surprise, the looming space echoed like the Grand Canyon.
"Yum. Ketchup, mustard and olives. Oh—and pickles."
"There's Chinese takeout in there somewhere. And
apples and oranges in the crisper. And look," he said,
pointing to the side door, "three eggs. Now, when are
you going to tell me why you're here?"
"I'm here because I want to be with you. You're my
friend, and I can't stand this wall between us."
"I'm sorry. I don't mean for there to be one."
"Yet here it is." She grabbed the pickles, unscrew-
ing the lid to fish one out. "Now, what are we going to
do about it?"
"What do you want to do?"
"For starters, stop talking in circles. The other night,
you accused me of not having time for you, but it seems
to me, the way you shut me out tonight, that the state-
ment should be the other way around."
Washing his face with his hands, he groaned. "Again,
I'm sorry. There's just a lot going on. I care about you,
Rose. I care about Anna. But with so much on my plate,
I feel like I should be focused on that. Not worrying
about you 24/7."
"Did I ever ask you to?" She took a bite of her pickle,
then winced before spitting it into the disposal side of
the sink. "Yech. Are you trying to kill me?"
"Sure. I didn't even know you were coming, but just in
case, I stocked my fridge with poison-laced kosher dills."
At that, she couldn't help but smile.
And then he was smiling.
That led to full-on laughing from both, until some-
how, Rose had melded herself against Dalton's strength.
Hugging him for all she was worth, she hadn't realized
until that moment how much she needed him.
How much she loved him.
Yes, loved him.
Only not in the way she'd loved John, but in a special
way reserved all for Dalton. Despite that realization
though, the question she couldn't keep from asking
centered around one simple thing—was love enough?
Enough to overcome the past?
Enough to sit by and watch Dalton make a mess of
his future?
He wouldn't be happy at the bank, yet being the noble
soul he was, he also wouldn't be happy destroying his
father by up and announcing he wanted nothing more
to do with his current job. Lately, she'd begun to wonder
if there might be even more on his plate than he'd told
her about. Some deeper reason behind his refusal to see
that what they shared was a rare and amazing gift. One
he seemed ever more willing to throw away.
Chapter Twelve
"Mommy?" Anna said during the ride home from
Becca's late Saturday morning. The Hot Pepper Festival
was in full swing, and traffic was insane. "What's
shacking up?"
Rose was so startled by the question she nearly
rear-ended the white Taurus in front of them. "What
did you just say?"
"When me and Becca were cooking Pop-Tarts,
Becca's mom was talking on the phone in their dining
room and me and Becca heard her say you and Mr.
Dalton are 'practically shacking up.'"
"Nothing," Rose sa
id, gripping the steering wheel till
her knuckles shone white. "That means absolutely
nothing you need to know about."
"If it doesn't mean anything, how come Becca's
mom said it?"
Rose counted to ten in her head, willing the red
light they'd been stopped at for what felt like the past
year to change.
Last night's rain was still falling.
She flicked her windshield wipers to high.
She felt sorry for the festival's vendors—craftspeo-
ple, food sellers, game and ride operators and the like—
suffering through the rain. Yet it certainly hadn't seemed
to affect the number of folks in town for the three-day
event. The city park had to be swamped with both
puddles and people.
"Mommy? Why'd she say it?"
Sighing, wishing her child had forgotten the matter,
Rose said, "Sometimes, when two grown-ups really like
each other, they practice being married. Do you know
what slang is?"
Anna shook her head.
Swell.
"Slang is just a different way of wording things. Like
instead of saying we're going to have lunch, some people
might say they're grabbing grub or breaking bread."
"Oh."
"When Becca's mom said Mr. Dalton and I were—
you know." Lord, she couldn't even bring herself to
repeat it. "She just meant—" in a hateful, gossipy way
"—we enjoy spending time with each other."
"Are you?" Anna asked once they'd finally turned off
the main road and onto a quieter side street.
"Are we what?"
"Practicing getting married? And if you did get
married, would that mean Mr. Dalton would be, like, my
second dad?"
Never had Rose been so grateful to pull into the alley
behind their loft home.
"I think he'd be a fun dad. He makes really good
pancakes. And when he reads me stories, he does funny
noises. He snorts the best of anyone I know."
Turning off the engine, Rose unbuckled her seat belt,
then angled to face her daughter. "Sweetie, there's a lot
more to someone being a good dad than that."
"I know. He has to know how to change fire-alarm
batteries, too. We learned that on our field trip to the
fire station."
"Yes, that's also important, but moms do that job, as
well."
"I know. Can we go inside? Becca loaned me a new
ball gown I wanna try on my Ballerina Barbie."
"Sure," Rose said, kissing the top of the girl's head.
With Anna in her room, Rose made a pot of coffee,
hoping to ward off the afternoon's chill. But what she
couldn't escape was the hurt stemming from being the
center of ugly gossip. Up until her encounter with
Alice, and now this, Rose had only seen the nice side
of small-town life. But then in all fairness, the dance
troupe she and John had been with was always a
hotbed of rumors.
It wasn't even the fact that her and Dalton's relation-
ship was being discussed that hurt, but that she doubted
in her heart whether there even was a relationship.
Really, though they'd made love, there was no commit-
ment on either of their parts.
Never had the saying "so close, but yet so far" been
more appropriate.
And if there were a commitment?
If after tonight's performance, Dalton fished a
gorgeous ring from his pocket, then asked her to marry
him, what then? Would she do it? Would she be any-
where near ready to open herself to loving again?
What about Anna? Would she also put her daughter's
heart at risk over a man she hardly knew?
"This is sweet of you," Rose said to Dalton as he held
open the door for her and Anna to the best steak place
in town. They were eating early because they all had to
be at the pageant by six-thirty.
"Seeing how you're paying," he said with a wink, "I
figure getting the door is the least I can do."
"You're so funny," she said with a poke to his steely abs.
"Hey, it was worth a try."
Soon, they were seated in an intimate corner booth
Rose suspected was usually reserved for couples, but
since Anna was engrossed in coloring her kids' menu,
she and Dalton might as well have been on a date.
After a waitress brought iced tea for Rose and Dalton,
and orange pop for Anna, Rose discreetly mentioned
what her daughter had overheard Becca's mom saying.
Shaking his head, Dalton said, "I went to high school
with Kari. She was always a vicious gossip, as was her
mom. Not that this will make you feel any better, but
just so you'll know, this attitude is targeted more toward
me than you. Kari's best friend, Misty, and I had a fling
a few years back. I'm thinking Misty had her heart set
on marriage. I was just looking for someone to take to
the bank's Christmas party. When I see her around, she
still looks at me like I'm the devil." Laughing, he sipped
his tea. "Women."
"Hey," Rose complained. "Not all women have
nothing but weddings on their minds."
"True," he said with a sweet kiss to her cheek.
"And in other not-so-fun news...I spoke to my father
today."
"Oh?" She reached for a sugar packet, dumping it
into her tea.
"He and Mom will be there tonight. He said they
were hoping to meet you after our performance."
"Considering the whole town seems to be against us
becoming a couple, that'll be something to look for-
ward to."
"No one feels like that," he said.
"Alice does. She's the one who flat out told me I'm
not good enough for you, seeing how I don't have a
pedigreed background."
"Stop," he said, taking her hand, smoothing the top
with his thumb.
"Eeeuw," Anna said, glancing up from coloring. "Mr.
Dalton, why are you holding Mommy's hand? Are you
two going to kiss?"
"Would you think it was yucky if we did?" Dalton
asked.
She took a moment to consider. "Well, if you gave
her one of those really long movie kisses, that would be
gross. But I suppose just a nice kiss would be all right."
"Thank you for your permission," he said.
"Well?"
"Well, what?" he asked. Rose wanted to crawl under
the table from embarrassment.
"Aren't you going to kiss her?"
Dalton wanted to kiss Rose. But seeing how it was a
gross movie-type kiss he'd had in mind, he figured he'd
better wait until Anna went to bed.
"Know what?" he ended up saying.
The little girl shook her head.
"Instead of kissing your mommy, I think I'll just kiss
you instead." He scooted the few inches between them
and kissed the top of her head.
"Eeuw," Anna said with a huge smile, pretending to
wipe off his germs. "You're gonna get it." Now she was
the one sliding, and she got revenge by planting a big
wet one on his left cheek.
"Eeeeeuuu
w," he said right back, being sure to make
a properly repulsed face even though her actions had
him secretly touched. "You're disgusting."
"No, you are," she teased.
"I heard you eat bugs," he said.
Not to be outdone, she retorted, "I heard you eat
boogers."
"That's enough," Rose said, apparently declaring
herself the grown-up of the bunch. "You two stop right
now, or I'm putting you both in time-out." While her
words sounded menacing, her eyes smiled.
"She started it," Dalton said, pointing at Anna.
"No, you did." Anna's face brightened with a grin.
Luckily, the argument was settled by the arrival of
two T-bones with all the trimmings, and Anna's corn
dog. They settled into their meal while conversation
and laughter flowed. The contrast between this trio and
Dalton's own family trio was startling. In the home
where he'd spent the first eighteen years of his life, he
didn't feel as at ease as he did right now in a crowded
steak house.
"You all right?" Rose asked.
"Never been better," he said, grinning.
"Then why are you frowning again?" She touched his
cheek.
With Anna again engrossed in coloring, Dalton felt
free to say, "I was just thinking how right this feels. The
three of us."
"How is that something to frown about?"
"It's not," he said, telling her what she wanted to hear.
"Ify'all are half as nervous as I am about who's
going to win the crown," Mona said with a titter, wincing
under the spotlight's glare, "then you'll be happy to
know we have more of this fine, Hot Pepper-style enter-
tainment to keep you on the edge of your seats till that
crown's placed on our lucky winner's head."
Rose's talented little girls had already bobbed their
fruit bowls for the cheering crowd, so it was now time
for Rose and Dalton's performance.
Standing in the wings alongside her, he leaned in to
whisper, "Can you say microphone hog?"
"Stop," Rose said. "She's not used to being in front
of a crowd."
"If someone had a rope, we could lasso her and get
her away from the crowd."
"You're terrible."
"I try," he said with a devilish wink.
"Without further ado," Mona rambled on, "I would like
to introduce you to two of Hot Pepper's brightest dancing
stars. It's a long-standing tradition here at the pageant to
showcase our incoming chamber of commerce president
in a tango, and this year, as a special treat, Mr. Dalton
Montgomery will not only perform with the outgoing
