by Unknown
Drew rose from the couch, pulling her with him to wrap his arms around her waist from behind. “And then you have to leave on the red- eye for your audition.”
Her stomach tangled in a knot. “I do.” They hadn’t discussed the topic at length since she’d found out she was a candidate for the job.
Yet, she never failed to sense a thread of tension in Drew’s voice when it was merely mentioned, and she didn’t quite understand it.
She swung around to capture his gaze, running her hands over his chest and hoping to gauge his feelings on the subject. “We still on for that ride to the airport?” she asked, smiling up at him.
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Instead of returning her gaze, he pulled her close, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “You bet.”
Again, there was that hesitance in his tone, one she was reluctant to address. She didn’t want to spoil this thing they’d created— this warm intimacy. She’d never had this with Stan and wasn’t willing to disrupt it at any cost. “Well, okay, then. I say we get some shut- eye.
Myriam said I was expected to work in the kitchen just like everyone else. I think that means I have to peel potatoes, and I want my eyes wide open for that.”
He chuckled against her hair, the vibration of it soothing. “I think you should limber up your fi ngers so you can peel all those potatoes.”
Mel smiled against his chest and shivered. “And how do you pro-pose I do that?”
He hitched his jaw toward the bedroom with a grin. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”
They both laughed as they made their way toward the bedroom, Drew’s laughter lighthearted and hers colored with a smidge of worry.
!
“There they are!” Selena shouted, her cheeks fl ushed from working in the kitchen. “We thought you two would never get here,” she chided with a sly grin when they entered the front door.
The McPhees’ house was swarming with children, smelled of every good thing Thanksgiving dinner should smell of, and was fi lled with sound and motion.
She gave Mel and Drew each a kiss then put on her stern face.
“You,” she said, pointing at Mel, “have dough to roll, and you,” she smiled up at her son, “are needed in the living room. Your father seems to think your presence will bring his football team good luck.”
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Drew shook his head in mock defeat, sighing. “My work here is never done.”
Mel made a face at him. “Hey! How come your job is to sit on the couch and mine is to roll dough, pal?”
Selena leaned in to her. “Because you do not want to see my Drew in the kitchen. It’s like setting loose a man who’s just discovered fi re.”
Mel winked at her and said, “I dunno, McPhee— you don’t dance, you can’t cook. How are you a catch again?” she teased.
Drew hauled her up against him, leaving her toes dangling, and whispered, “Did you already forget last night? I have skills that can’t be denied. Surely they make up for my lack of talent in other areas?”
“I heard that!” Selena sang on a chuckle, climbing over assorted grandchildren to make her way back to the kitchen.
Drew pulled her into the small entryway and planted a long kiss on her lips, making her sigh. “I have to go make dough— you get to watch TV. Don’t try to schmooze me with your kisses.”
“I was only trying to make up for our lack of playtime last night because you voted sleeping over mad passionate sex.”
“Yeah, yeah. And I have to go home and pack after dinner to leave— which blows our chances of having a sleepover tonight.”
Instantly, Drew stiffened, just enough that it was only noticeable to someone who’d come to know his body so well. “Right.”
She cocked her head up at him, hoping he’d tell her why he’d been so quiet all morning. “You okay?”
“Right as rain.” He swatted her butt. “Go make me some dough, woman.” He gave her one last kiss and skirted around her, heading for the living room where boisterous yelling could be heard.
Tonight before she left for her audition, they had to talk about what his feelings on the subject of the show were.
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wooden turkey welcome sign hanging on the McPhees front door, but she shook it off.
She had dough to roll.
Before she headed to the kitchen, she popped into the living room to say her hellos before beginning her slave labor.
The blare of the football game followed her to the kitchen where the scent of roasting turkey, women’s laughter, and clouds of fl our welcomed her. Drew’s sisters and Myriam stood in a line at the long kitchen counter, each completing one task or another. Mel rolled up the sleeves of her imitation blue silk shirt and nudged Myriam to press a kiss against her warm cheek. “Put me to work, ladies.”
In moments, she had a fl our- covered counter and a wad of dough to roll. As she kneaded the soft concoction, Mel fought another niggle of worry about leaving tomorrow. The opportunity was huge and, no doubt, a gift of pure luck, but there was a defi nite reluctance to return to the place where she’d been offi cially shunned when she’d become Stan’s ex-wife. The glitz of Hollywood, the lure of fame and fortune had long since waned for her.
She loved it here in Riverbend. She loved her job, teaching boys who were as reluctant to dance as they were to skip an episode of The Big Bang Theory. She loved that Nate had accepted her so willingly and that their private sessions had given her the chance to get to know him on a one-on-one basis.
She loved being closer to her father and regretted that she hadn’t taken a fi rmer stance with Stan about seeing him more often. She loved her new independence and making her own decisions.
And she loved Drew. Whether he liked to dance or not.
A tingle of awareness skittered along her arms. She was in love, and she didn’t want to move to L. A. for a job when everything she’d ever wanted was right here in Riverbend.
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Mel loves Drew. She let the phrase repeat in her brain. It was terrifying and exciting and mostly terrifying to feel this way so soon.
But the question was did Drew love Mel? If he did, he hadn’t copped to it. She wasn’t the only one new to the idea of a relationship after a divorce. Drew had told her, she was his fi rst serious encounter since he’d divorced Sherry. But maybe he wasn’t as serious as she was? She’d never know until she asked, and while that would take all the courage she possessed, she was going to ask anyway.
And even if the outcome weren’t what she hoped for, would that really affect her choice to take a job on Celebrity Ballroom if it was offered? Did staying in Riverbend mean Drew had to love her in return?
No. Because she’d come to love this new life, and if Drew McPhee didn’t love her in return, that was fi ne. He’d be a stupidhead.
Okay, it wasn’t fi ne, but it would be because while she loved nothing better than to be with him and Nate, she’d survive if things went wrong, and she’d do it while she stood on her own two feet. It might hurt like hell to be rejected by Drew, but she could withstand anything now that she knew who she was.
A smile spread across her face. She’d go to L. A. simply because Jackie and Frank had gone to so much trouble to get her an audition, and if they offered her the job, she’d tell them she already had one.
One she loved.
Myriam pinched her cheek with affection. “What’s so funny?”
Her head tipped back. “Life. Life is funny, Myriam.”
Myriam chuckled, taking the dough from her inept hands. “Yep.
Sure is. So I heard you’re goin’ on an audition for Celebrity Ballroom.
Me and Selena almost wet ourselves, we’re so excited for you!”
Mel’s return smile was bright. “I wouldn’t get too excited. I’m up against some stiff competition. Lucy Vega to name one,” Mel listed a well- known ballroom dancer.
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Myriam waved a fl our- covered hand at her, leaning into Selena who’d joined them. “As if Lucy Vega could ever be as pretty as you.
Have you seen her feet? They’re like hooves.”
“Whose feet are like hooves?” Drew asked, popping a stalk of celery from a platter on the counter in his mouth.
Mel shook her head, wiping her hands on a nearby towel. “Oh, no one.”
“Lucy Vega,” Myriam provided. “Mel thinks she’ll lose the audition for Celebrity Ballroom to that horse. Hah! No way can she out dance our Mel, and no way is she as pretty. Mel’s gonna be the new judge on Celebrity Ballroom. Count on it.” She said with a fi rm shake of her head and a warm smile in Mel’s direction.
Drew said nothing, but the dark expression crossing his face made her pause. His disapproval was crystal clear. Why she hadn’t seen it sooner was a mystery.
Her palms grew sweaty with her new now-or-never approach. She rinsed her hands at the sink and dried them, taking deep breaths of air.
It was time to fi gure out exactly where she stood with Drew.
Where such a resolute stand had come from, she couldn’t say. She just knew it was time to sort this through so there were no misunder-standings.
And whatever the outcome— she’d get through it.
Hopefully, she’d do that without a can of chocolate frosting and some sprinkles.
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C H A P T E R E I G H T E E N
Dear Divorce Journal,
Blow me. Blow me hard. I’m never, ever writing in you again. You only make things worse when I have to see my pain in black and white. Thanks for that. Really.
She tugged on Drew’s sleeve. “Got a minute?”
“For someone as sexy as you, I can spare two.” His smile warmed her, giving her the courage to push forward.
She folded her hands behind her back. “Meet me in the tree house?”
“It’s cold out there. You don’t really want me to get frostbite just because you can’t keep your hands off me, do you?”
“Funny. You’re very funny. I need to talk to you. Meet me in the tree house when the coast is clear,” she said with a smile, heading for the door off the laundry room and out into the overcast, cold day.
Grabbing the rope ladder, she climbed to the top and took another deep breath. It would be all right. It had to be all right. Please let it be all right.
Mel chalked the foreboding dread up to nerves when she heard Drew’s feet climbing the rope. His head appeared in the entrance of the tree house, dark and handsome. He climbed in, sitting on his haunches to work his way over to the bench she sat on.
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until I’d had a dozen or so of those baby quiches?” He wrapped an arm around her and grinned.
Mel turned to face him, her hands trembling. “I need to know something.”
“Well, hurry up, woman. I hear there’s clam dip. If I miss that, it’s on.”
“How do you feel about me going to audition for Celebrity Ballroom?”
His chin lifted, and the hand in his lap clenched. “How am I supposed to feel?”
“Happy for me.” Yes. Drew was supposed to be glad she’d been offered an opportunity of a lifetime whether he knew she wanted to take it or not.
His jaw tightened. “Okay.”
Mel cocked her head as if she hadn’t heard right. “Okay? Just okay?”
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say here, Mel.”
She paused a moment to gather the right words and then she thought, The hell with the right words. There’d be no more walking on eggshells for anyone. Not even for the man she loved. “Are you angry because I’m going on this audition? You haven’t said a single word about it since I heard from Jackie, and every time I mention it, your jaw clenches. Something’s up. I want to know what it is.”
Pulling away from her, he leaned back against the bench, his body language unreadable. “ ‘Angry’ isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”
Her heart crashed against her ribs, but she had to know. “Then what is the word you’d use, Drew?”
“It’s probably more of a phrase than a word.”
“Then what’s the phrase?”
“I’m just waiting to see if the other shoe drops.”
Her next question was fi lled with hesitation. “The other shoe?
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What does that mean? I didn’t know there was even a shoe to drop.
This is a huge opportunity for me, one I’d like your support in because I’m sick with nerves about it, and I don’t want to disappoint Jackie and Frank after they went to all this trouble to get me this audition.”
“But you don’t mind disappointing me and Nate?”
“What?”
Drew’s lips, lips that had kissed hers over and over, thinned.
“What happens if you get the job, Mel? Wait, no, don’t say it. I know what happens. You move off to L.A. and go back to living your lifestyles of the rich and famous. That’s what happens.”
Mel’s mouth fell open. She could abort the mission now by simply telling him she had no intention of taking the job if they offered it to her, but that would make it too easy on Drew.
She needed him to support her choices, barring murder charges, and know she’d never do anything to hurt him no matter what her decision was.
This was about trust.
She was never going to have the kind of relationship where she did all the off-stage work while her partner expected nothing but a bottomless pit of go- get-’ems from her. “So you’ve fi gured this all out.
All of it. Without ever saying a word to me?”
“I was sort of in wait- and- see mode.”
An angry claw of disappointment scratched at her heart. “Wait and see what? Wait and see if ex-pampered-trophy-wife Mel can resist the lure of the bright lights and hardcore greenbacks because she missed her chance at fame and fortune by marrying some rich guy? Maybe have a do-over to reclaim all she lost? But you weren’t going to share your misgivings with me, were you, Drew? You know, like normal people in a relationship do. Maybe say, ‘Hey, Mel. Let’s talk about what’ll happen if they offer you the job and you have to commute to L. A.’? Noooooooo! You were plenty happy to test me to 9780425245507_WaltzThisWay_TX_p1-344.indd 277
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see if I’d fail without me ever even knowing I was taking the test. You just assumed I was going to choose a new life in L. A. over the one I’ve made here. Who the hell do you think you are?” she fumed, pushing her way past him to climb over his legs and off the bench.
He swung around to fully face her, his face was tight and his eyes were narrowed. “Why else would you want to do Celebrity Ballroom, Mel? Because of the things it’ll buy you. The exposure it’ll get you.
You’re not going to do it for free, are you?”
How dare he make her out to be some money- grubbing twit? Her mind raced through some of their past conversations and it made her visibly shake her head. No. She’d never ever given him the impression money and being in the limelight was all that mattered to her.
Now she was incensed. That he had no inkling of the person she really was stung like nothing ever had. “No, I’m not going to do it for free, but I would, Drew McPhee! Maybe I want to do it because I love to dance. Because I want everyone to love to dance the way I do.
Because this could be a dream come true for me. That there’s a paycheck involved is an added bonus.”
His lips thinned into an angry line. “A paycheck that’ll cost you everyone in your life because you want things.”
“What is it with you and your ridiculous notion that anyone who has money or hopes to have money is evil incarnate? Yes, Drew— I like things.” She grated with a harsh rasp. “I like shopping and clothes and shoes. So what? Do they defi ne me? Are they all I aspire to?
Didn’t I do a bang-up job of surviving without them? Wasn’t it me eating a chili cheeseburger with you and Nate when it was zero below? Have you heard me whine even once because I couldn’t have whatever I wanted whenever I wanted to? I didn’t even do that when I was married to Stan. Damn you for making me sound like I’m frivolous and money hungry!” she yelled on a wheezing breath. The calm approach she’d hoped to take on this escalated to a new height.
