by Abby Brooks
Juliet swept into the kitchen, followed closely by a tall man in a white button down shirt and dark gray slacks, his sandy hair swept back off his face. This guy had the most amazing eyes Willow had ever seen. Like, old soul kind of eyes. Intelligent and quick and in the process of lighting up with the most breathtaking smile.
Juliet stepped forward for introductions. “Willow Tamran, I’d like you to meet Harrison Moore, chef extraordinaire.”
Willow knew she should stand up and smile. Offer Harry her hand and give him the obligatory nice to meet you. But she couldn’t. Something had her utterly, completely, one hundred percent frozen in place. The air in the room seemed thick and heavy and totally inadequate, like she couldn’t get a decent breath. Her heart clattered around in her chest, not sure what the hell was going on.
Not only was he gorgeous, but Harrison? His name was Harrison? Like Harrison Ford in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom? The one where he fell madly in love with a woman whose nickname was Willie, just like hers? That had to be some kind of sign! Right?
“Willow.” Harry nodded his head in greeting, his gray eyes dancing across her face. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Juliet sidled up and gave Willow a little nudge with her elbow, which was best friend code for get your shit together. “Harry decided to show up early and offer us his expertise in the kitchen.”
Willow swallowed and hopped off her stool. Smiled broadly and extended a hand to Harry. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you and thank you for coming to our rescue.”
She had intended to curtsey with her words, just a cute little thing to go ahead and get the whole I’m a ballerina conversation out of the way. But when Harry took her hand, his rough skin pressing against hers, his touch gentle and firm and warm and possessive all at once, Willow lost all ability to think, let alone be charming.
She stared up into his eyes, her lips slightly parted, and it was as if all the rest of the world dimmed around them. As if they were onstage, standing in a spotlight. As if it was just Harry and Willow, alone in the kitchen, this wonderful connection sizzling in the air around them.
“It’s not a big deal at all.” His eyes locked onto hers and Willow couldn’t get a full breath until he released both her hand and her eyes and turned to Juliet. “Looks like you guys have it all mostly under control here. Is there anything I can do?”
Juliet said something to him and he laughed and if Willow’s life depended on it, she wouldn’t have been able to repeat what was said. She couldn’t hear over the rush of her blood in her veins, the thunderous cacophony of her heart going into meltdown mode. Never in all her life had she been so completely taken off guard by someone. Never in all her life had she been so totally swept away.
2
There was this moment of Juliet and Harry talking and laughing and Willow doing her best to figure out what the hell was going on and it was all muffled and strange as if she were underwater. Then her heartbeat caught back up with her and she remembered how to breathe and she managed to pull off a bright smile even though she still felt like her whole world had been turned upside down. Nothing could have prepared her for the force of meeting Harrison Moore.
The three of them danced around the kitchen, an intricate ballet of movement and work, filling bowls and taking things out of the oven, reaching for silverware and lining the counter with food. Wine flowed and laughter warmed Willow’s still recovering heart. She couldn’t keep her eyes off Harry and every time she looked up, she found him looking at her. Those stormy gray eyes, so quick and intelligent, they tracked each and every one of Willow’s movements. Noticed what made her laugh. Saw when she smiled. She felt like she did when she was in rehearsal, when the director was at the front of the studio taking notes on her performance. Like each and every one of her movements was being studied and analyzed.
And just as he saw everything about her, she saw everything about him. She was constantly aware of the space between them. Of the way he moved with such ease and confidence as he worked in the kitchen. His hands moving with grace and precision as he chopped carrots for the salad. His quick laughter at Juliet’s gentle jokes. His hesitance to speak before he had a moment to think over what he wanted to say.
Before long, the house was full of Moores and Willow was busy trying to keep her focus off Harry’s broad shoulders as she met whichever new family member Juliet presented her. Never before, not in all her life, had Willow been knocked so far off her game like this.
“A ballerina, huh?” asked Frank, Juliet’s soon to be father-in-law as they all sat down to dinner. “That’s a very disciplined calling.” The way he said it, he managed to infuse more than just a little respect into his words.
“It is.” Willow smiled and picked at her salad. “I like it though. It challenges me.”
“I’m surprised you’ve managed to take an entire week off. Isn’t that close to career suicide for you?” Willow looked up in surprise at Frank’s question. Not many people understood the kind of blind dedication ballet required. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Harry studying her and for some reason, that sent a shiver of heat racing up her spine and her stomach started doing pirouettes.
“We get the last couple weeks of November off. Juliet was awesome enough to schedule her wedding around my break.” Willow set down her fork. “Had she pushed it any later I probably wouldn’t have been able to be here. Next week we start rehearsal for The Nutcracker, and right after that show closes, we start setting the next ballet.”
Ian held up his glass. “Well, to The Nutcracker then, if that’s the reason I get to make this woman my wife so quickly.” He took Juliet’s hand in his and gave it a little squeeze.
“To The Nutcracker,” echoed Harry, meeting Willow’s eyes and holding up his own glass. Willow shivered with delight.
Hell yeah, to The Nutcracker. If that means I get to spend a week getting to know Harrison Moore, than I’ll toast to The Nutcracker all night long.
Everyone lifted their glass and took a drink. Willow watched James lift a glass of water to Ellie’s lips before he took a drink of his own. He smoothed her hair back from her face and Ellie grimaced.
“Are you still in a lot of pain?” Willow asked her, noticing again that she had Harry’s full attention. Was he really watching her this closely or had he just caught her staring at him enough that she had made him uncomfortable and he kept looking to see if she was still ogling him? Willow wrenched her focus back to Ellie.
Ellie shook her head and shrugged, her dark curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Not as much as I was. I’m more just annoyed to be unable to do anything for myself.”
James chuckled. “Ellie’s not very good at accepting help or admitting weakness.”
“Says the man who—” Ellie hiccuped and buried her face in her shoulder, her eyes widening in fear. “Excuse me,” she said, struggling to get to her feet. James leapt up and helped her stand.
“Morning sickness,” he explained, with an apologetic grimace. “Come on, sweet Ellie. I’ve got you.” And with that, he swept her from the room, away from the murmurs of concern coming from the family.
“Injury must be a constant worry for you,” Harry said to Willow and his voice sent whispers of adrenaline through her system.
“It is,” she said, turning her full attention to Harry, who had his full attention trained on her. Again. Still. Some more. “Just last week, there was this girl in the dressing room. A young dancer, brand new to the company. When I walked in, she was just sobbing. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me that she was in a lot of pain and didn’t know what to do. She had a bruised toenail from her pointe shoes and those things hurt, let me tell you. On top of the fact that she was recovering from a sprained ankle and was afraid she had come back to class too soon. And just that day, her hip had started hurting. I gave her Ambesol for the toe—they sell it for toothaches, but it works for bruised toenails, too—and suggested she talk to the physical therapist about the other thing
s, but I knew she wouldn’t. The PT would just tell her to take time off and time off is the kiss of death.”
“Have you ever been injured?” Harry’s eyes locked on hers and once again, everything else in the room dimmed. The gentle conversation from the rest of the family. The sounds of forks on plates and ice in glasses. The constant rush of the ocean. It all faded away until it was just Willow watching Harry who was watching her.
“Luckily, I’ve made it this far without having to deal with anything serious. Nothing career threatening.” She licked her lips and tried to come up with a question to ask him and get the focus off her.
“I bet you’d be devastated to have to stop dancing.”
“I would.” It was the answer she always gave, the one people expected from her. But it wasn’t quite that she would be devastated, but more that she would be lost. Her whole life had been dedicated to dance. What would she be without it? What would she do? Those questions haunted her sometimes. At others? There was this little flame of curiosity about leading a normal life that she took care to extinguish the moment it flared into existence.
Harry put his fork down and captured her with his eyes again. “What about your family? Do they support you?”
What the hell was happening here? Not one time, not once, not ever in her whole life had anyone been interested in her career after the few obligatory questions.
“Both of my parents are dancers, so they’re utterly thrilled that I’m working for ACB.”
Harry shook his head, not understanding. “ACB?”
With a growing surge of dread, Willow became aware that she had the focus of the entire Moore family trained on her. Sure, she could be onstage in front of thousands and not bat an eye, but put all the focus on her in the middle of a dinner party and that was a fate worse than death. She took another sip of her wine to give herself a minute to think. “American City Ballet. It’s a ballet company I work for in New York City, and it was my parents’ dream company.”
Juliet held up a hand. “Don’t let her humility fool you. ACB is every dancer’s dream company. People actually move to the States even if they don’t speak a word of English just to get a chance to dance there. And Willie is a soloist. On her way to becoming a principal.” She turned to Ian. “Think of it kind of like the military. The dancers get ranks. Principal is the top rank, and soloist is just under that.”
Ian raised an eyebrow at Willow. “On your way to becoming a four-star general, are you?”
“Something like that. Although I don’t think I’m nearly bossy enough to be a general.” Willow caught Harry’s eyes and smiled. Bit her lip when he smiled back and then dropped her eyes to the table.
James and Ellie wandered back in and sat down, James pulling her chair out for her and helping her to scoot back in towards the table. “Sorry,” Ellie said.
“My sweet Ellie is really suffering.” James shook his head and patted her still-flat tummy. “I guess this little guy is already taking after his dad. Giving his mom a hard time and being difficult before we even get to day one.” James shot a look at Diane who took a long breath in through her nose.
“If that’s really what’s happening,” Diane said to Ellie, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “Then just remember, I’m only a phone call away. I may not have all the answers, but at least I can commiserate.”
The family laughed and lost themselves to conversations about people Willow didn’t know and events Willow hadn’t been there for. Under normal circumstances, she would remember to laugh when it was appropriate and smile when someone made eye contact, but these people were so enthusiastic, Willow found herself laughing because the story was genuinely funny and smiling because she was genuinely happy. She didn’t need to put on a show for the Moores. She could just be herself and enjoy them being themselves. It was nice.
And then there was Harry. He didn’t say much during dinner, although his laughter filled the room and his gaze fell warmly on whomever was speaking. Well, whenever it wasn’t falling on Willow. Because mostly, it fell on Willow. Every time she looked his way—which was a lot—she caught him looking at her.
As dinner finished and the family carried their dishes into the kitchen, Willow caught his eyes and smiled and was stopped in her tracks by what happened next. It was nothing special and everything special all wrapped up into one heartbeat of a moment. The corners of his lips twitched up into the tiniest smile she had ever seen. His eyes lit up with this bright, intelligent warmth and he shuffled his plate into one hand so he could touch her arm with the other. It was just the briefest of contact, just a shiver of his fingertips grazing her elbow, but she felt it through her entire body.
Like everything had changed and nothing had changed and somehow nothing more important had ever happened in all of her life. And to make it all the more intense, the look in his eyes said he felt it, too. That somehow, in this simple moment, he knew that his life had been forever changed in the way she knew her life had been forever changed.
And then Ian bumped into him and made some quip about blocking the doorway and Harry moved into the kitchen, leaving Willow to wonder about what the hell had just happened.
3
Harry had never seen a creature as striking as Willow Tamran. From the moment he walked into Juliet’s kitchen and found her leaning on the counter, her hands ever so delicately framing her face, her blonde hair streaming across her shoulders and glittering in the long light of the afternoon sun, Harry hadn’t been able to get his mind off her. Or his eyes.
Her beauty astounded him. Everything about Willow was simple, yet stunning. She wore very little makeup, but her face took his breath away. Her eyes a sparkling blue, filled with a happy intelligence that made him feel like he could look into her and find himself. Her movement, so efficient and graceful, almost feline or serpentine, and detailed down to the exacting way she moved even her fingers.
And her body, trim and muscular, somehow both fragile and strong in the same instant. So thin and angular, yet softened by her grace, the femininity of her movement. She was entrancing, a dichotomy of everything, and all Harry could do was watch her and wonder what it would be like to know her. To let his hands explore her body and his mind roam her thoughts. To drag his tongue across her luscious lower lip, to draw it into his mouth and capture it between his teeth.
He studied her at dinner. Listened as she spoke about her job, as she smiled through practiced answers and careful nonchalance. He saw the shadow that fell across her eyes, the one that made him want to ask her what was wrong. To ask her what wasn’t she saying. And yet, he was a stranger to her. What right did he have to ask her any questions at all?
And then he touched her and a jolt of need jumped through his body. It was nothing more than a simple gesture. He touched her arm and stared into her eyes as they wandered from the table to the kitchen. No more than that. Nothing of importance. And yet, in that moment, everything in his life shifted to make room for her. He wanted to say something because he could see the echo of his feelings written all over her face. He should say something witty. Something meaningful. Something worthy of this somehow monumental moment.
And then Ian bumped into him. “You’re creating a traffic jam.” Ian said, shoving him into the kitchen and away from Willow.
Harry looked over his shoulder and watched Willow blink a few times as Juliet took her plate from her. And then they were separated even further by the surge of family members entering the kitchen and cleaning their plates. Filling wine glasses and filtering out onto the deck to enjoy the sunset over the water. He caught a glimpse of Willow trying to wipe all traces of judgement off her face as Lilah cornered her and tried to start a conversation. For a second, Harry just watched simply because he wanted to see how she responded to his sister.
But then, Lilah must have said something as dreadful as only Lilah could manage and shock momentarily dropped Willow’s jaw. She recovered quickly, covering her surprise with a smile and a gentle flare of he
r fingers, but Harry could see the distress in her eyes, in the fleeting glance over Lilah’s shoulder in the hopes that Juliet might materialize and save her.
Harry’s feet were moving before he even had a moment to fully decide what he was going to say. He appeared at Willow’s side and took her elbow in his hand, his heart going about a million miles an hour. “So,” he said, looking into those endless blue eyes. “Tell me more about life as a ballerina in the company that dancers all across the world dream of working for.” He led her past Lilah, out onto the deck, pausing only briefly to toss an apologetic look to his sister who sat back on her heel and glared at him before turning on her heel and heading in the opposite direction.
“We don’t have to talk about ballet,” Harry said as they drew to a stop at the end of the deck. With effort, he let go of Willow’s elbow and instantly mourned the loss of contact. “And I’m sorry for whatever it was that Lilah said to you.”
Willow met his gaze and another parade of emotions flickered through her eyes before she shook her head and arranged her hands on the deck railing. “It’s okay.” She smiled and it was like watching a sunrise. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”
The wind blew a lock of Willow’s hair across her forehead and Harry fought the urge to brush it back off her face, eager for another chance to touch her. “Oh, you can be as polite as you want to be, but I know my sister. I’m sure there’s plenty to apologize for.”
Willow laughed and the sound was just as much a contradiction of textures as was the rest of her. It was deep and low, warm like whiskey, yet soft and sweet like apple pie. She gave a little shrug of her shoulders and tilted her head to the side, her hair sliding over her shoulder in an avalanche of golden light. “My mom always said if I didn’t have anything nice to say, I shouldn’t say anything at all.” She caught his gaze, a glimmer of concern tightening the corners of her eyes as she widened her smile to try and hide it. “And so, I’m staying silent on the matter.”
