So the Heart Can Dance (A Hidden Beauty Novel Book 2)

by Mary Crawford

  “Nothing’s wrong Mindy Mouse,” I say quickly, trying to cover my earlier overreaction. “I just didn’t expect him to be here.”

  “Then how come you’re all red like a stop sign?” asks Mindy as she plays with the ribbons on her ponytails. “Hey, did you know Uncle Ty is a real cowboy? He has a ranch-n-everything. The barn is even red just like in the movies.”

  “That sounds neat. Weren’t you planning to learn to ride a horse so you can ride at Justice Gardner’s ranch?”

  Mindy nods as she exclaims, “Uh-huh, Uncle Tyler said he would teach me when we have school vacation if the fields aren’t too muddy. I’m so excited. The Judge-man said I was a very good horseman. I thought that was funny because I’m a girl.”

  “Well, you’re braver than me. I’m too scared to ride a horse,” I admit.

  “No, way!” Mindy says with her mouth gaping. “How can you be a grown up and not ride horses? I thought everybody rode ponies when they were little.”

  “Nope, I was too big of a chicken. I was afraid they were going to step on me. So I never even tried. I wish I had been braver when I was little. Now I feel stupid that I never even tried,” I concede, sheepishly.

  Just then, Tyler emerges from the basement. It’s clear from the expression on his face that he’s overheard our conversation. He is studying my body language as he asks me, “Would you mind coming out to my ranch so that I can show you my babies. They’re so gentle that they wouldn’t hurt a fly. Literally. In fact, I think Fannie Farmer is harboring a family of fugitive flies in her mane.”

  I giggle, and Ty gives me an odd look. “I’m sorry, but the name of your horse is funny in light of our conversation this afternoon. I don’t know if you realize this, but your horse is named after a vintage cookbook. I find that ironic, especially since your favorite food is microwavable pizza.”

  “If you think that’s funny you’ll get a kick out of the fact that I have two other horses named Julia and Jacques.”

  “You’re kidding me! Please tell me it’s not coincidental and that you get the cultural reference behind their names.”

  “Gidget, I didn’t say I was never exposed to cooking. My mom is a huge fan of Public Television. I think you’re reading far too much into my dislike of noodles. My transition from dorm food to the Army’s finest cuisine didn’t do much to develop a sophisticated palate either. But, it doesn’t mean I’m a total idiot. In fact, my mom would be pleased as punch to meet you. She always wanted to go to culinary school.”

  “What does your mom do now?” I ask, realizing that I’ve never seen her at any of Jeff and Kiera’s family events.

  “My mom is a retired third-grade teacher and my dad owns a local hardware store back in my hometown in Oklahoma.”

  “You’re from Oklahoma? I knew you had an accent, but I didn’t realize that’s where you’re from.”

  “I’ve been from so many places recently, sometimes it’s hard for me to remember. What? You don’t think I have an authentic Ory-gun accent?”

  “I’m probably not the person to ask about that since I grew up around Harvard Yard and spent my summers in North Carolina and Texas. My dialect is so confused it doesn’t know if it’s coming or going,” I tease.

  “Speaking of places to visit, I would like you to come see my ranch, remember? You never answered my question,” Ty remarks, pinning me with a direct gaze. I look into his eyes that are so sexy, and I almost forget what my objections are.

  “I was hoping you would miss that artful little dodge,” I confess “If I come see you, do I have to touch the horses?”

  Tyler chuckles as he assures me, “No, Heather, I wouldn’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I promise. We’ll just have a nice visit. Maybe you can even Skype with my mom and say hi. That way you can hear what a real Oklahoman accent sounds like.”

  “Okay, that doesn’t sound too dangerous,” I remark.

  “Well, Gidget, I suppose the level of danger is entirely up to you.”

  DEDICATION

  To all the soul-mates out there.

  Whether you find yours

  through adoption,

  online dating,

  or the old fashioned way—

  Love them the best you can.

  Welcome to the family Elizabeth.

  “I thought I told you guys not to do this kind of crap!” I protest as I examine the 356 email messages from the BrainsRSexy online dating service. “Where did you guys find that stupid picture of me? I don’t even recognize that shirt and I swear I haven’t had that color of eye shadow since I had braces.”

  Marcus raises an eyebrow at me, “When did you ever still long enough for braces?” he asks sarcastically.

  Sticking my tongue out through my sparking white Chiclet teeth like a six year old, I ask again, “Funny. Seriously, where’d you get that picture?”

  Marcus looks up from where he’s sketching a design on the light-box and replies with a shrug, “I don’t know. I wasn’t really paying attention. We were all playing pool and online poker on the computer, and someone thought it would be funny to set up a profile for you. Somebody probably had it on their Facebook or Instagram or something.”

  “First of all, unless you guys are going to pay me like a reality show that comes attached with Ashton Kutcher, you really should leave the punking to the professionals, because this really sucks,” I state emphatically as I turn the computer screen toward Marcus.

  He cringes as he watches a particularly colorful Vine video showing things a girl should never see, even for six seconds.

  Ducking his head back toward the light-board, he mumbles an apology in my direction, “Oh man, Rogue!” he exclaims in disgust. “I feel like I need to apologize for my entire gender. I swear not everyone’s like that. There are some pretty nice people on this site. My brother met his fiancée on this site. He swore to me there wasn’t anything creepy involved.”

  I’m starting to feel a little bit bad for Marcus as he rakes his fingers through his spiky blond hair making it stand on end. He looks like he’s had an unfortunate accident with a fully charged outlet. He’s wearing large gauges in his ears today; so with his hair, piercings and many tattoos, he looks very fierce. In reality, he’s about as scary as a golden retriever.

  Usually I would have a little bit of fun at Marcus’s expense, yet, he seems so upset over my displeasure, I’m not sure he won’t have an anxiety attack if I don’t let him off the hook.

  I sigh as I concede, “Look, you might be right. Some of these guys seem like they could be normal enough.”

  I narrow my eyes and pin him with my meanest stare. “But, you’re not off the hook. You’re supposed to be my best friend. That means you watch my back—even if you are slightly buzzed.”

  Marcus at least has the good sense to look chagrined as he’s suddenly very interested in getting a precision point on the pencil he’s sharpening.

  “If you ever get another harebrained idea to sign me up for a dating service, just ask me first,” I continue. “I might even surprise you and say yes, but I’d like to be able to have a free choice in the matter.”

  “Done.” Marcus readily agrees. “I know this is going to sound lame now. But, we didn’t do this to hurt you. It’s true. We didn’t factor in the creepaziods, but we thought you may meet some people who would knock you out of your rut and give you something positive to think about.”

  I shudder as I remember some of the more egregious pictures in my mailbox. “Trust me, I have plenty to think about now, but not much of it’s positive,” I reply. I try for straight sarcasm, but I’m not completely successful in keeping my laughter at bay.

  Marcus smirks at my joke as he explains, “Come on, you know what I mean. I was trying to get your mind off of he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned.”

  “You mean Lawrence?” I ask as I lift a questioning eyebrow in Marcus’s direction.

  “I’m just saying the guy has a lot of nerve for someone whose last name is Poser,” Marcus
mutters bitterly.

  “Marcus, it’s really sweet for you to be all pissed off about it, but he’s just the latest in a string of guys to assume that just because I work at a tattoo parlor, I must be randomly screwing bikers in the back room,” I answer.

  “Just because he’s not the only one doesn’t give him a free pass. The guy was supposed to be your boyfriend. He should’ve known better than to believe the stereotype. Wasn’t he also the charmer who said you’d be perfect for giving him ‘little tax deductions’ because of your wide Hispanic hips?”

  Diet Coke surges up the back of my throat and threatens to come out my nose as I choke back a startled laugh. “You can understand why I don’t miss him all that much. Still, it was fun to get into all those nightclubs. Well, let me rephrase that; it was fun to get into the ones he didn’t own to do opposition research. Lawrence’s were pretty lame. You make a great wingman,” I reminisce with a smile.

  Marcus smiles brightly as he declares, “I know. If I don’t get you to come up for air every once in a while, my social skills are going to wither up and die.”

  “You poor baby,” I soothe. “You know, I might actually have some sympathy for you, but since I don’t make your kind of money, I still have to work hard to keep my scholarship. So, that means studying and apprenticing here.”

  Marcus’s bottom lip starts to slide out like a four-year-old who’s just been told he has to take a nap. “Let me guess, you’re not going to go out with any of these guys this weekend because you’re too busy?”

  “I don’t know. There’s this guy who wants to shoot his antique car collection and needs a couple of models. He requested me and I told him I would probably do it if I could get my art history paper done in time.”

  Marcus’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he says, “Oh really...”

  Exasperated, I shoot a rubber band at him. “Oh shut up!” I exclaim. “It’s not like that. The last time I was there I exchanged recipes for empanadas with his very lovely wife. She insisted he give me a big enough tip that it bought two of my textbooks this term.”

  “Okay, so I was wrong. But I worry about you going out on these modeling gigs,” Marcus grudgingly admits.

  “Says the guy who signed me up for an online dating service without telling me. Hypocritical much?”

  “I totally deserve that. I know you’re careful and I know I sound like a crazy, possessive, overprotective brother—”

  I roll my eyes at him as I tease, “Yeah, I’m sure that Sadie would be thrilled if you returned to your post in her life. After all, what freshman girl doesn’t want her tattooed, menacing big brother lurking in the hall?”

  Marcus scowls over the top of his drafting easel. “Damn straight I should be there. Do you have any idea what eighteen year old boys think about all day?”

  I smirk at him as I quip, “Probably the same thing as twenty-five year old men.”

  He moans and buries his head in his hands, “What’s so great about UCLA? There are lots of great schools in Florida.”

  “Relax, Marc. You’ve been teaching her to scrape off the bottom-feeders since she was about twelve.” I reason. “She’s a pro now. You did your job well—just like you’ve done with me.”

  Embarrassed by my admission, I walk over to the filing cabinets and start to re-file the stack of reference drawings and portfolio pictures.

  Marcus drapes his arm around my shoulder and pulls me towards his side for a hug.

  “Don’t mention it,” he replies, brushing off the compliment. “I’m your most annoying best friend. It’s part of my mandatory job duties.”

  “Just so you don’t get a big head or anything, I feel compelled to point out that you are virtually my only friend here in the land of sunny beaches and palm trees.”

  “Those are just details... You have to look at the big picture here.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” I agree. “Let’s analyze this. You miss your sister. So, you obviously need to make a road trip. Is she planning to come home for break?”

  “No! Can you believe this? She said she had too much studying to do over break to make it worth the cost to fly home. I don’t think she knows how much I make on a custom back piece,” he muses, frustration seething from every pore.

  It’s a good thing Marcus can’t see my face as I smother a grin. I suspect his little sis is spending Thanksgiving at the boyfriend’s place, but there may be certain things my friend just isn’t ready to hear.

  “She’s probably just busy,” I answer carefully.

  Marcus gasps as he exclaims, “Rogue Betancourt, you did not just use your ‘socially acceptable’ polite voice on me!”

  The spider web in the ceiling fan was becoming more interesting with each beat of my pounding heart. I hate lying to Marcus—even by omission. But, when it comes down to it; it’s not even my story to tell.

  I nod a tight nod.

  A pained look crosses his face as he replies, “Despite my zaniness, I know I can always count on you not to feed me any crap—even if it’s hard. Why are you changing the rules now?”

  I sigh as I choose my words with precision, “Marc, you’re my best friend too, and sometimes I choose not to tell you things because I know they’re just going to stress you out. This is one of those times.”

  Marcus groans in frustration as he practically bellows, “Oh great! Now I have to wait a whole week wondering what you mean.”

  I reach up and pat him gently on the cheek. I sigh as I respond, “Okay, don’t say I didn’t try to warn you, but I suspect that Sadie is probably spending Thanksgiving with her boyfriend. It’s a scary, liberating thing for a woman the first time that she spends a holiday away from her family.”

  “Woman?” Marcus sputters. “She’s still a little girl. I mean it wasn’t that long ago that she got her driver’s license.”

  Massaging the tense muscles in his shoulders, I reply, “Marc, I know it’s hard, but Sadie is nineteen. Thanks to you, she’s also incredibly savvy and smart when it comes to guys so she’s going to be just fine.”

  “Maybe, but now we definitely need to take that road trip to see what’s going on. There’s a trade show in San Francisco in the end of December. Does that match up with your break from school?”

  “That’s a nice fantasy Marcus, but I would never be able to afford to go to California,” I respond dryly shrugging out of his half embrace.

  Marcus catches my arm and spins me around so I have to look at him. “Look, you’re here as an apprentice. Part of that is learning about all the new trends and techniques as well as scoping out the equipment and inks. A trade show is a great way to do that. I know it’s easy to forget I’m a part owner in this place because I’m such a clown, but it’s my responsibility to make sure you get properly trained, so I would pick up the cost of your trip. I’m not doing this because we’re friends. I’m doing this because I want to make you a better tattoo artist.”

  I’m a little surprised by the serious tone in his voice, although I’m not really sure why it shocks me. I know despite all appearances, Marcus is incredibly successful at what he does and dedicated to his craft. There is nothing more devastating to Marcus than someone who is not happy with their tattoo. Yet, despite the fact he’s made a huge name for himself and is starting to get national recognition, he would rather downplay all of his success and live like a college frat boy. He doesn’t treat anybody differently now than he did when I met him five years ago when he was just starting out.

  Usually I’m pretty good at keeping my emotions in check, but my elation over the opportunity to go to California with Marcus to an actual trade show and see Sadie again is just too much to hide. I start bouncing on the balls of my feet as I grin widely. “I’ll have to check my schedule to see when my last final is over. I’ll make sure I don’t take any modeling jobs that week.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind about getting some ink?” Marcus asks me with a twinkle in his eye. This is an old debate between
us. He’s been trying to convince me to get a tattoo for years. He thinks it’s hysterically funny that I’m apprenticing to be a tattoo artist but I don’t actually have any tattoos yet. I have reams of drawings of tattoos that I plan to get—someday.

  “With your amazing body and stunning face, I bet there will be some pretty famous tattoo artists who would be itching to use your body as a canvas.”

  “I know that I’m no Sofia Vergara, but for now I make a few extra dollars on the side modeling. It’s easier for me to book jobs if they don’t have to cover tattoos with makeup. So, for now it’s purely a financial decision for me. I don’t plan to make a career out of modeling, it’s just a means to make it possible for me to go to school.”

  Marcus takes a good long leering look at me as he remarks, “Speaking as your friend here, not your employer, I don’t know who ever gave you the idea that you’re not as hot as Sofia Vergara.”

  I laugh at the expression on his face. “Knock it off, Marcus. I’m so firmly in the friend zone with you that I doubt you even remember I’m a girl. Do I need to remind you that you challenged me to a burping contest last week?”

  “Oh, you mean the contest you almost won? If I hadn’t been assisted by a liter of Dr. Pepper, you would’ve won that one hands down. But, just because you happen to be my best friend doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate your many assets as a woman,” Marcus replies wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

  “You might not believe this, but having you as my best friend has really built up my self-confidence. Thanks to you, I can now tell when a guy is sincerely into me or just feeding me a line. You’ve given me some valuable information about guys and their go-to-plays. It’s really helped me sort out the crap and not take it personally.”

  “Geez, I feel like I’ve broken some sacred man code or something,” Marcus mutters under his breath.