Shall We Dance?

by Shelley Shepard Gray

Shannon took a sip of her chardonnay. “How are things going with Dylan?”

  Traci smiled. “I wondered when you were going to ask me about him.”

  “What? It’s a legitimate question.” She was also probably doing a poor job of acting like she wasn’t thinking of Dylan at least two times a day.

  She took a sip of her draft. “Sure it is.”

  But Shannon noticed that Traci still didn’t answer her question. “If you don’t want me asking about work, just let me know.”

  “I don’t mind talking about work. But I’m not sure if you are really all that interested in learning about the traffic stops I did yesterday.”

  “All I wanted to know is if y’all were getting along.”

  “Sorry. I know I’ve been teasing you. We are. He’s a good guy, decent. He’s fair, too. Some guys are still living in the eighties and pretending that I’m only there to fill a quota. Dylan, though, he acts like he’s glad I have his back.”

  “Speaking of your record, he said that you were kind of a big deal back in Cleveland.”

  “I wasn’t.” She looked away. “I just did my job.”

  “He said you received some commendations. Were you upset to leave?”

  “I didn’t lie, Shannon. I really am happy to get out of there.” Shadows filled her eyes. “My job in the city . . . well, it was hard. I dealt with a lot of folks who didn’t have much to lose. Some days I wondered if they were going to get so desperate that I would become just another one of their losses.”

  That sounded terrifying. “What happened? What did you have to do?”

  Traci shook her head. “Nope. We’re not going there. Not tonight.”

  “I’m tough. You can tell me anything.”

  “I’ll remember you said that.” Just as she was taking another sip of her beer, she sighed. “And, speak of the devil, here he is.” She raised a hand. “Hey, partner.”

  Shannon turned to see Dylan approaching. He was wearing what she was beginning to think of as his usual uniform. Snug, faded jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt that was also well fitted, and boots. His hair looked like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times in the last hour.

  He also looked as confident as ever.

  Shannon’s smile faltered when she realized he wasn’t alone. A very pretty blonde was walking by his side.

  “Hey, Trace. And Shannon, too.” He smiled warmly. “Hey, I’ve got someone for you to meet. We just got a table. Do you want to join us?”

  “Sure,” Traci said.

  As they stood up to move to the empty table Dylan had pointed out, Shannon felt her stomach turn to knots.

  Maybe this was a mistake. Dylan’s date didn’t look very happy to see them. Not at all.

  CHAPTER 9

  “This is my dance space. This is your dance space.

  I do not go into yours. You do not go into mine.”

  —Dirty Dancing

  Tuesday Evening

  “You don’t mind that I asked them to join us, do you?” Dylan asked Jennifer as they watched Traci and Shannon pay the bartender and then head their way.

  The look she gave him could’ve frozen boiling water. “It’s a little late to be asking, don’t you think?”

  “So, you do mind.” And yes, he knew that was a stupid statement.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Dylan,” she muttered under her breath. “You know that even being here in the middle of a crowded restaurant is difficult for me.”

  He knew. And he also knew that he’d never intended to ask Traci and Shannon to join them. But the moment he saw Shannon the invitation just came out of his mouth. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t lying. He really was sorry.

  But was he going to change his mind and take back the invitation? Not a chance.

  Ignoring Jennifer’s obvious exasperation with him, he stood up as the women got to their table. “Traci, Shannon, this is my sister Jennifer.”

  Shannon blinked then smiled brightly. “I didn’t know you had a sister.” Turning to Jennifer, she held out her hand. “I’m Shannon. Shannon Murphy. Nice to meet you.”

  After a second’s hesitation, Jennifer held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, too.” Looking at Traci, she kind of waved. “Hi.”

  “Hey,” his partner said as she took the chair across from him. “Traci Lucky.”

  “Thanks for asking us to join y’all,” Shannon said as she sat down.

  “No problem.” Dylan held out her chair and helped get her settled, to both his sister’s and his partner’s obvious amusement.

  Shannon seemed not to notice their smirks. Instead, she smiled up at him.

  Still standing behind her, he fought an urge to curve his hands around her shoulders. Just as if they were a couple and he couldn’t resist touching her.

  “Do y’all eat here very much?” Shannon asked after he sat down. “All I’ve ever gotten here is a burger.”

  “Burgers are a good choice. What else do you like, Jen?”

  She swallowed. “Everything is pretty good, though I don’t eat here all that often.”

  “I’m getting chili and a chicken sandwich,” he added.

  “I’ll have to try that soon,” Traci said. She took another sip of her beer and grinned. “So, buddy, have you recovered yet from today’s big adventure?”

  “Yep.” Boy, he’d hoped she wouldn’t go there, but the moment he saw both Jennifer’s and Shannon’s looks of interest, he knew it was a hopeless wish.

  “What happened?” Shannon asked.

  He gave Traci a warning look. “Nothing.”

  “Oh, it was something, all right,” Traci said. “My partner here got his butt kicked by a poodle.”

  Shannon giggled.

  He was just about to give Traci a pretty fierce look when he realized that his sister had chuckled as well. Traci’s teasing had helped Jennifer settle down. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened in public.

  It was totally worth the loss of a little bit of pride.

  “It wasn’t that big of a deal. It was just a matter of miscommunication.”

  “Between?”

  “Between me and the dog’s owner.”

  “The octogenarian who couldn’t hear all that well.” Traci grinned. “Dylan and I had to keep raising our voices so much that Snookie got freaked out.”

  “Snookie?” Jennifer said.

  Dylan rolled his eyes. “I didn’t name the thing.”

  “He only ran from it,” Traci added, her eyes bright.

  Oh, brother. “We were yelling so loud, the dog thought we were screaming at the lady,” Dylan explained.

  “She’d called for assistance. She thought someone was trying to break into her place, but the wind had just caused a broken shutter to clap against the house,” Traci supplied. “After we ascertained that there was no danger, Dylan here went to talk to the lady. But that little dog went into attack mode. It was quite the sight.”

  Jennifer’s lips twitched. “I wish I could have seen it.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” Dylan said. “Snookie was dangerous.”

  “All fifteen pounds of her,” Traci said.

  “Come on, Lucky. You know it was bad. I had no idea poodles could be so vicious. That dog almost bit off a piece of my um, rear end.”

  Shannon’s eyes were dancing. “How did you stop it?”

  “I had a piece of beef jerky in my pocket,” he said. “Thank God.”

  Jennifer made a face. “Oh, Dylan. How old was that?”

  “Not too old,” he said. “But don’t give me grief about it. If I didn’t have that, it could’ve been a real mess. I could’ve gotten injured.”

  Traci snorted. “He isn’t lying. That jerky saved his hide.”

  “Good pun!” Shannon high-fived her sister.

&nbs
p; “Now I’ll never be able to convince you to get a dog,” Jennifer said.

  “Jen, that’s the last thing we need.”

  “That might be the last thing you need, but I would love one. One day you’re going to get home and there will be a puppy greeting you at the door.”

  Shannon looked from him to his sister. “Y’all live together, just like Traci and I do?”

  Smiling at Jennifer, Dylan nodded. “Yep. She’s a good room­mate. She cooks like Betty Crocker on steroids.”

  “No way. You can cook?” Traci asked.

  Jennifer nodded. “I enjoy it.”

  “She’s phenomenal. I’m not kidding,” Dylan said, more than happy to talk up his sister’s talent. “Jennifer can make anything.”

  “My brother’s a little biased. I just have a way with casseroles.”

  “They’re terrific. And she does all the cleaning up, too.”

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  “Why?” Shannon asked.

  When Jennifer hesitated, Shannon added, “I mean, since I live with my two sisters, I’m confused why she feels like she needs to do all of the cooking and cleaning.”

  Just as Dylan was about to share that it wasn’t her business, Jennifer said, “I don’t work, you see. And I’m agoraphobic. I only started going out to eat with Dylan a couple of months ago. Before then, I’d hardly leave the house.”

  After darting a quick look in his direction, Shannon smiled. “Oh. I see.”

  Jennifer looked down at her hands. “I know. It’s odd.”

  “It’s fine,” he said. He hated when his sister put herself down. “Jennifer has her reasons.”

  “I’m sure,” Shannon said quickly. “Please, you don’t need to explain anything to us.”

  “No, I don’t mind,” Jennifer said. “I’m working with a ther­apist. I’ve gotten a lot better, but it’s a work in progress. Things like this are good for me to try, but it’s not easy. I know I can be a little awkward. I’m trying to get out of my shell.”

  “That’s really hard,” Traci said in a softer tone than Dylan had realized she was capable of. “I actually became a cop because I’d been working through some things myself.”

  Dylan noticed that Shannon looked stunned by that news. Again, he wished he knew more of the story about Shannon and her sisters. He was especially intrigued by the sense that she was eager to ask about it but didn’t. He had a feeling the problem wasn’t because he and Jennifer were sitting there.

  “Here’s your order,” the server said to the ladies, putting two large cheeseburgers in front of them. Turning to him, she added, “Your meals should be out in about ten.”

  “No problem. Thanks.”

  “These look so good, Shan,” Traci said. “I’m starving.”

  He and Jennifer exchanged smiles. He already knew that Traci didn’t shy away from eating a decent meal but Shannon looked so elegant. For some reason, he had thought that she would have only eaten a salad.

  Shannon looked at her plate. “Sorry that our meals came out so much earlier.”

  “Go ahead and eat.”

  Five minutes later, his chicken sandwich and Jennifer’s soup and salad arrived. He’d just taken his first bite, when Traci grinned.

  “Since we’re all here together, I might as well ask how the dance lessons are going.”

  Jennifer popped her head up. She remained silent but her lips twitched as she glanced his way.

  Shannon frowned at her sister. “We don’t need to discuss this now.”

  “Why not?” Traci asked as she picked up a French fry. “You said you were really enjoying it.” She raised her eyebrows in such a fake look of surprise, Dylan realized that it was a good thing she’d gotten into police work and not theater.

  Shannon picked up her glass of wine. “That doesn’t mean we need to put Dylan on the spot like this.” Turning to him, she said, “You don’t need to say a word.”

  “I can take Traci’s ribbing, Shannon. Don’t worry.”

  “See?” Traci asked.

  Before Shannon could get more upset, Dylan started talking faster. “To answer your question, the classes are going real well. We worked on the rumba last class.”

  “The rumba, huh?” Traci leaned back in her chair. “That sounds, um . . . intimate.”

  “It wasn’t that intimate,” Dylan said.

  Jennifer coughed.

  “It’s a natural progression after one learns to waltz, Traci,” Shannon said.

  “Good to know.”

  Remembering how he’d held her when she’d been counting in his ear, Dylan glanced her way. “Shannon’s a great teacher. I’ve enjoyed the lessons. They’re a lot different than I thought they would be.”

  “Huh,” Traci said.

  “Is it always like that?” Jennifer asked. “Do you always find the lessons go smoothly?”

  “Oh, no.” Shannon put a napkin to her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Though this my first studio of my own, I’ve taught a lot of lessons. Each partner and student has his or her own pros and cons.”

  “Sounds hard.”

  “No, they’re a lot of fun. I love meeting new people and love making them feel more at ease on the dance floor. But that doesn’t mean we always have as good a time as Dylan and I do.”

  Traci and Jennifer both looked his way, but he was prepared for the looks this time. Instead of reacting too strongly, he simply smiled.

  The conversation moved on to other topics. But the damage had been done. He couldn’t seem to do anything but think about Shannon and reflect how she was right. There was something significant between them.

  After they all paid and were walking to the door, he was pleased to see that Traci and Jennifer were conversing and Shannon was walking by his side.

  “This was fun,” she said with a smile at him. “Thanks for inviting us to join you.”

  “Thanks for joining us and especially for being so kind to my sister.”

  “She’s nice. I’m glad we met.”

  He turned to Jennifer. “You ready?”

  “Yes.” Eyes shining, she smiled at Traci and Shannon. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too, Jen. See ya, buddy,” Traci said.

  “Be careful tomorrow,” Shannon said.

  “I will. Thanks.” He guided Jennifer to their right where his Suburban was . . . and tried not to think about how if they’d been alone he probably would have kissed Shannon.

  Right there on the sidewalk.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass; it’s

  about learning to dance in the rain.”

  —Vivian Greene

  Saturday

  She was back. Sitting in her white Altima, Jennifer took her time checking messages on her phone, retouching her lipstick, and pulling on her favorite gloves spun with alpaca. All of that took ten minutes.

  It was time.

  Grabbing her purse, she opened the driver’s-side door and winced as a burst of snow grazed her face. The snow was a surprise. The forecasters had mentioned snow arriving after six o’clock that evening. Not at two.

  Well, she assumed the meteorologists were human, too.

  If there was a plus to this, it was that the cold and snow helped her stop making excuses. She hurried into the bookstore, closing the door securely right behind her.

  “You came back.”

  Turning, she saw Camille standing next to a cart near a cute sign that announced they were in the Mysterious section. “Yes, I guess I did.”

  “I’m so glad. Right after you left, I told Jack that you were a woman who I wanted to know.”

  Whoa. “Really?”

  “Any woman who can put up with my son both throwing hot coffee on her leg and his dog being a general pest is a winner in my bo
ok.”

  Camille was putting a really kind spin on what had actually happened. She smiled at her. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “I hope you will. I’m a tough cookie. Not too easy to please, you know.”

  Somehow Jennifer couldn’t see that. No, instead she looked like a sweetheart. “Is Harvard around?” And yes, she was kind of also asking about Jack, though she wasn’t sure why.

  Camille shook her head. “No, I’m sorry honey. Harvard is home with Jack. I bet you’re sorry to miss him. That puppy is a cutie, isn’t he?”

  She nodded. She wondered if Camille was as complimentary about everything. She was kind of getting that impression.

  “I came to look at the cookbooks.”

  “I know! I remember.” Pointing to the stairs that were just to the right of them, Camille said, “You go right on up, honey. Have a good time.”

  “Thanks.” She walked up the narrow stairs and then stopped with a gasp. She had to have stumbled upon cookbook Mecca. In a loft area that had a 1950s-style red laminate booth, shelves of gorgeous ceramic pie plates of every design and color, and a tree filled with copper cookie cutters. Next to it, in the corner, was a finely refurbished turquoise vintage stove, and a working Coca-Cola bottle dispenser, and a pair of metal chairs with shiny white cushions.

  And interspersed among it all . . . was the mother lode of cookbooks.

  They were everywhere. On shelves. In stacks. On the Formica table. Some were arranged by subject. Others, by author. Still others looked like they’d been simply set down and forgotten.

  Glad that she was completely alone, Jennifer felt tears prick her eyes. Oh, not because of the beautiful display, but because it had been there all along and she hadn’t even known about it.

  No, that wasn’t right. She hadn’t been brave enough to overcome her fears to even step foot here, a place that would give her so much pleasure.

  Just as sternly, she shook off her doubts and self-recriminations. There was nothing she could do about the past. It was done. All she could do was move forward.

  Even with something as simple as being in a favorite store.

  Swiping her eyes, she pulled out her bifocals, walked over to the first stack, and sat down at the booth. Then she opened up her first selection with a happy smile.