Take the Lead

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “I see.”

  Did she? Gwen wasn’t even sure she did herself. Her dependence on the guy embarrassed her, but now that she’d heard from other women in their group meetings, she knew she wasn’t alone in her feelings. “He treated me bad. I know he did.”

  Ellen held up a paper. “Does, right?”

  Conceding with a nod, Gwen added, “He does treat me bad. I know that. But I was alone, right? Even though Officer Lucky and Melanie and you have been telling me that things are different now, I didn’t believe it.” Plus, there had been a part of her who had thought that she didn’t deserve anyone better. She wasn’t special, and she’d made a whole lot of dumb mistakes. Why would she deserve better? Though her mouth had gone dry, she forced herself to continue. “I also kept thinking that maybe he was changing. Or, um, that he could change, if he wanted to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve changed.”

  “What’s changed for you?” Ellen asked slowly. “Or do you still feel the same way about Hunter that you used to?”

  “I don’t. I haven’t felt that way for some time. Maybe I never did. But what’s changed is me and this baby boy. I don’t want to be the type of woman who puts up with bad because she doesn’t want to see any good.”

  “I’m proud of you.”

  “Nothing to be proud of. Though, do you think there’s anything Officer Lucky can do?”

  “He’s threatening you. You’ve got a restraining order against him. Yes, there are things the police can do.”

  “Then I’ll listen to whatever she tells me and apologize about ten times.”

  Ellen smiled. “She might only make you apologize five times. Eight at the most.”

  “I hope so.” Boy, she’d really messed up. Again.

  “Gwen, don’t leave the building.”

  Ellen’s warning sent a chill down her spine. If she hadn’t already been so on edge, their conversation would have made her take Hunter’s notes seriously. “I won’t.”

  After studying her for a long moment, Ellen continued. “Gwen, if Hunter texts you on your new phone, don’t respond. Give the phone to me.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “One last thing. And this is most important.”

  “Yes?” Was Ellen going to remind her that she could be kicked out of the shelter at any time, especially for putting the other women in danger?

  Her voice softened. “Don’t give up hope, or stop believing in yourself, dear. Things are going to get better for you, Gwen. I promise they will.”

  “I don’t know how you can promise that.”

  “I can promise because you’re worth it, Gwen. You are special and important. I promise you that,” she said as she walked around her desk and hugged Gwen tight.

  Gwen hugged her back just as tightly. The words were so sweet, and the praise so foreign to her ears that she didn’t want to let go.

  CHAPTER 19

  “Dance is meditation in movement, a walking into

  silence where every movement becomes prayer.”

  —Bernhard Wosien

  Traci had rarely seen Shannon so irritated. Standing in the middle of her dance studio, all decked out in a black wrap dress with matching heels, Shannon looked like she had just walked off an episode of Dancing with the Stars. She even had black eyeliner and red lipstick on.

  She would have looked striking if, say, she wasn’t scowling at the two of them.

  “You know, the three of us can’t get much accomplished if you two continue to cut up.” Shannon warned. “I thought our first class was frustrating, but you two aren’t acting any better tonight.”

  “Cut up? Who says that anymore?” Traci asked.

  “What should I have said? Goof off? Ignore me?” Her eyebrows raised.

  Shannon Murphy stood barely taller than five foot two inches in bare feet. In heels, she was maybe five foot six, if she stood up really straight and puffed up her hair. Traci imagined that Shannon’s look was exactly opposite of a typical drill sergeant’s.

  But now, looking at the way she was standing, with her hands on her hips and her tone chilly, Traci decided that Shannon could give those drill sergeants a run for their money.

  “I’m sorry,” Matt said. “Everything you’re saying is exactly right. I’ll try to do better.”

  Shannon’s voice softened. “Thank you, Matt. I’ll try to explain the steps better too.” She glared at Traci. “And, what do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I’ll try to stop laughing and cutting up, Shannon.” Lifting her right arm onto Matt’s shoulder, she said, “I think we’re ready now.”

  Shannon glared at her but turned on her heel and strode toward her iPad. “Let’s start this again, then.”

  As Shannon fussed with her iPad, Matt leaned closer to Traci. “You are incorrigible.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are. You’re having way too much fun and making me mess up,” he whispered.

  “Don’t put this all on me,” she hissed in his ear. “You haven’t been a saint either, Dr. Rossi.”

  “True.”

  “The music’s on, you two. Now, here we go—one, two-three. One, two-three. Hold her firmly, Matt. I promise, she won’t break.”

  Just as Traci was going to say something rude, Matt shook his head. “Come on now. Dance with me, Traci.”

  Maybe it was that smile. Or the way his dark eyes pulled her in like little else had in her life, or maybe even the sappy words that sounded like the sweetest invitation coming from his lips. Whatever the reason, she kept her arms locked, her eyes on his, and finally listened to her sister guide them around the room.

  She and Matt were well proportioned together. She hadn’t put on a dress, but she had worn two-inch heels with a pair of dark skinny jeans. Now she was only about four inches shorter than her dance partner. Tall enough to look easily in his eyes and follow him around the room, short enough to feel feminine while she did it.

  They took a brief break, then Shannon put on “Save the Last Dance” again and made them pick up the pace and do a couple of turns.

  Slowly, Matt’s look of concentration turned warmer. By the time the song ended, she could feel that she was smiling broadly. In spite of everything, they were having fun.

  When they drew to a stop, Shannon clapped softly. “When y’all stop joking around and fighting me, you dance well. You two make a lovely couple.”

  Traci turned to her in shock.

  “On the dance floor, Trace.” Her voice softened and her West Virginia drawl thickened. “I wish I could have videotaped y’all. Then y’all could’ve seen what I did. It was beautiful!”

  “You’re a great teacher, Shannon,” Matt said. “If we started looking good, it was because of your patience. I’m sorry about the way we were behaving at first.”

  She laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I think most teachers would say that it’s harder to teach family members.”

  “At least we are family, Shannon. Right?”

  “Right.” Linking her fingers together, she stretched her arms above her head. “You two were my last class of the night. I’m going to go upstairs and put on sweats. Would you turn off the lights, Traci?”

  “Yep. Thank you.”

  Shannon waved a distracted hand as she walked out of the room.

  When Traci turned back to Matt, he was smiling at her.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Only that the two of you are kind of cute together.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him that grown women didn’t especially like being called cute. But coming from him? It kind of made her happy. “Cute, huh?”

  He nodded. “Shannon is all femininity and you are the opposite.”

  “Are you saying I’m masculine?”

  “No! Hell no. I mean
t . . . athleticism. Together, the two of you make a good pair.”

  “Thanks. Even though I was giving her a hard time tonight, I think she’s pretty terrific. I love to watch her dance, too.”

  “Does she ever practice with a partner?”

  “No. Sometimes with Dylan, but to be honest, he doesn’t pay too much more attention to the steps than I do.” Of course, when Shannon was with Dylan, she didn’t look like she cared too much about perfect dance steps, either. Instead, she was always looking up at him with shining eyes and standing so close, Traci feared they were going to start making out in front of the big windows lining the street.

  “I meant, sometimes, she’ll put on her toe shoes and dance ballet.”

  “She was a ballerina, huh?”

  “She says she’s a dancer who took years of ballet classes, but she looks like a real ballerina to me. She’s so petite, it’s fun to see her twirl. Kimber and I kind of think she looks like one of those ballerinas in a musical jewelry box. Well, she would if she would ever put on a tutu, like we keep asking her to.”

  “If she does, I hope I’m there to see it.” He walked over to his jacket and shrugged it on. “In the meantime, how would you feel about joining us for dinner on Sunday?”

  “Joining . . . who?”

  “My family. Remember how I told you that every Sunday my mom makes a big pot of pasta? Why don’t you join us this week?”

  “Why?”

  “Why not? The food is good, great, even. Plus, it will be great for you to meet everyone.”

  He wanted her to meet his family? “Matt, just because I’m going to be your date for the wedding, I don’t think it means that I need to meet your family, does it?”

  “Why wouldn’t you want to?”

  Because it sounded like a date. Because it sounded like a serious date. Like a relationship. But she didn’t want to be that honest. “Let me double check my schedule and I’ll let you know.”

  “You might be working?”

  “Bad guys don’t take breaks, Matt.” Boy, she hoped Dylan never, ever, ever heard what she just said. He’d give her grief for sounding so cheesy for the next twenty years.

  His eyebrows lifted. “Oh. Well, um, I guess you’re right. Let me know when you can.”

  She smiled as she walked to the door. “Have a good night. Fingers crossed that no babies are born tonight.”

  “Babies don’t take breaks either, Lucky. But I should be good since I’m not on call.” Before she knew what he was about, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Night.”

  “Night,” she whispered as she watched his silhouette disappear down the street.

  Hearing noise above her, she sat down on Shannon’s chair and thought about their class. The way she’d been so happy in Matt’s arms.

  And, yes, the way she’d kind of melted into him, then had backed up like a scared, wet cat when he mentioned eating with his family.

  Even though he knew a lot of her background, she was sure he didn’t really know what his invitation had meant to her. Where he saw family fun, good food, and a girl he was sort of seeing in the middle of it, she saw stumbling blocks.

  She would have to answer questions and interact with family members, and she didn’t have much experience doing that. And she’d need good table manners, which she hadn’t exactly mastered.

  What if she failed so badly at one of those things that his family decided to tell him to invite someone else to the wedding?

  And then she would be left on her own. Able to do an almost decent waltz.

  But would be without a partner to dance it with.

  She couldn’t think of anything sadder at all.

  CHAPTER 20

  rumba: Many people consider the rumba

  to be the most passionate and romantic dance

  in ballroom. It can be incredibly complex and

  involves many different hip movements.

  It had been a mistake to confide in Kimber. Traci could only blame it on a moment of weakness. They’d been sitting together at the Corner Café, Traci sipping a double shot mocha latte and Kimber drinking her usual iced black coffee, when Kimber’s phone rang. While Traci watched, Kimber had gone from excited, to disappointed, to looking like she wanted to throttle the person on the other end of the line. When her sister had hung up, Traci hadn’t been able to resist.

  “Who was that?”

  “Griffin.” Kimber took a fortifying sip of her drink, grimaced, and set it down abruptly. “Griffin Carter.”

  “Who’s— Wait. Isn’t he an actor on that show, What’s My Number?”

  “Yes.” Looking annoyed, Kimber crossed her legs, fiddled with her drink, then shifted yet again.

  Traci was beginning to learn that a lot of movement in her usually cool-as-a-cucumber sister meant that she was seriously agitated. “What did he want?”

  “He found out I’m going to be in Palm Springs next week. He wants to drive out and meet me.”

  Kimber talked about going to Palm Springs the way other people talked about going to the hardware store. “What’s wrong with that?”

  Kimber’s dark-brown eyes flicked toward hers. “First of all, I’m going there to work. I won’t have time to see Griffin Carter.”

  “Is there a second of all?”

  “Yes. The only way Carter could have known that I was going to be there is if my agent told him. And that just brings up a whole other hill of beans.”

  “A hill of beans, huh?”

  “Stop. It’s a good phrase.”

  “It sounds like a Shannon, West Virginia phrase.”

  “My mother’s mother was real fond of saying that. I must have picked it up.” She stirred the straw in her coffee, then dropped her hand again. “The point is, my agent shouldn’t be telling people where I’m gonna be. That isn’t right.”

  “You’re right. Are you going to talk to Adam about it?”

  “I am.” She rolled her eyes. “And then he’ll probably pretend he didn’t talk to Griffin, and I’ll have to pretend that I believe him.”

  “If you weren’t modeling bathing suits and such . . . would you have wanted to see this movie star?”

  “He’s not a movie star. Just an actor,” she corrected. “And, just for the record, I won’t be modeling bathing suits, it’s ready-to-wear and evening gowns. And, finally . . . no, I wouldn’t have wanted to see him.”

  “Why not? He looks really cute on TV.”

  “I promise he’s not that cute in real life, honey. He’s also a lot of work.”

  “Like how?” She wasn’t going to lie. Kimber’s high fashion-movie star world was pretty fascinating.

  “Griffin is the kind of man who doesn’t eat anything that has eyes.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “You know, fish, chicken, cows. He is morally opposed to that.”

  “He’s not the only person to feel that way.” Growing up the way she had, Traci was morally opposed to going hungry, but she supposed everyone had their likes and dislikes.

  “Furthermore, Griffin doesn’t go to places where he isn’t gonna get noticed. That means, that he never looks directly at me. He kind of looks right above my shoulder, just in case someone recognizes him.”

  “Sounds irritating.”

  “It is. And the worst part of it is that I can’t even get a decent free meal out of him while he’s ignoring me.”

  “You eat lots of tofu and vegetarian dishes here.”

  “I know I do. I like it all just fine, too. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want a steak or a piece of salmon when I’m out on a date.”

  Traci wasn’t going to touch that. “Other than that . . . is he nice?”

  Kimber blinked. “Traci, I just essentially told you that the man talked about me to my agent, is narcissistic, and has views on my love of meat.”
r />   “So . . . yes?”

  Her lips curved. “You are something else, Lucky. No wonder you’re a cop. You never give up.” She sighed. “Okay, fine. Yes. I suppose Griffin is nice, in that California, polished man, kind of way.”

  Looking like she was doing Traci a favor, Kimber added, “He’s kind of funny, too. He’s got a lot of good stories. And even though we haven’t eaten anything decent the two times he’s taken me out, he always pays. Not all men can say that.”

  “I didn’t know you’ve been dating actors when you’re on the road.”

  “I haven’t been dating that much. Just every now and then. It’s nothing serious. Not like Shannon and Dylan.”

  Traci heard a note of wistfulness in her voice. That was something she didn’t need Kimber to explain. Sometimes, she felt the same way. It wasn’t that she liked Dylan, it was that Shannon had found a person to love who was perfect for her. They suited each other.

  It also didn’t hurt that she knew for a fact that Dylan was a real stand-up man. He was kind and treated their sister like she was the best thing he’d ever seen.

  “Well, we all can’t find a good guy like Shannon has.”

  “You’ve gotten close though, right?” Kimber asked.

  “I’m not dating anyone. I mean, not anyone seriously.”

  “You’re going to that wedding with Dr. Charming and spending your free time dancing with him.”

  “That’s true, but . . . I don’t know.”

  “What’s wrong with him? He’s handsome, takes dancing lessons for his brother, and is a doctor. You’d be set.”

  “He’s not perfect.”

  “He’s not?”

  “Oh, stop. And listen. Even if he was perfect—which he isn’t, by the way, we’re too different.” She frowned, thinking of his Sunday dinner invitation that she still hadn’t responded to. “Actually, I kind of don’t know what to do about him. Matt invited me over to his parents’ house on Sunday night.”

  “He already wants you to meet his family?”