But instead of saying something sweet about how happy he was that she was moving in with him, Dylan looked a little worried. “Shannon, about the house . . .”
“Yes?”
“I need to warn you that everything there might not be like you hoped.”
“How come?” She’d just about gotten all of her possessions put away at Dylan’s house before their wedding day.
Putting on his turn signal, he exited the highway and turned onto Main Street. Now they were less than ten minutes from his house. From their house.
He drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel. “Well, you know there was that bad storm that ran through town.”
“I know.” A severe thunderstorm had passed through Bridgeport, bringing with it hail, flooding, and a tornado on the outskirts. She frowned. “Did something happen to the house?”
“Nothing like that. It’s just that Traci was working the whole time. And a lot of our buddies had to deal with flooded offices and basements.” He sighed. “But because of that, I don’t think anyone cleaned up the house or went to the store or anything. It’s going to be a mess.”
She looked at him strangely. “You know I don’t care about that, Dylan.”
“I know. I just wanted to warn you that everything might not be like you expect,” he said as he parked the car in the driveway.
She got out before he could come around and help her. “Pop the trunk, Dylan. Let’s get everything inside.”
“Let’s wait a minute.” He took her hand and walked her to the front door. “I can’t do this if my hands are full of luggage.”
“Do what?” she asked, just as he swept her up into his arms. Of course, she squealed and looped her arms around his neck.
“This,” he said as he opened the door with a free hand and carried her across the threshold.
Just as she was reaching up to give him a welcome-home kiss, the whole house erupted.
In cheers.
Putting her down on her feet, Shannon stared at the crowd of all their friends and family in the living room. “What . . .”
“Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Lange!” Traci said as she ran up to her, Kimber right by her side.
Shannon hugged her sisters tight, then reached out and pulled Jennifer into their group hug. “This is the best,” she said. “I love y’all so much.”
Kimber laughed. “Your accent’s back. You must be pleased.”
She was. Looking up at her husband, she shook her head. “I can’t believe you planned this.”
He looked delighted. “I wanted something special to begin our new life together.” He winked. “I told you the house wasn’t going to be like you expected.”
Just as someone put on music, champagne corks were popped, and all their friends started talking quickly and giving them hugs, Shannon looked at her sisters, her husband, all their friends. Everything.
And something settled deep in her chest that was so sure that the rest of her finally felt complete. She had sisters. She had a wealth of people she loved and cared about. She had Dylan.
Finally, at last, she was home.
The End
An Excerpt from
Take the Lead
“If you’ve got nothing to dance about,
find a reason to sing.”
—Melody Carstairs
CHAPTER 1
“Let us read and let us waltz—two amusements that will never do any harm to the world.”
—Voltaire
“I need some help, here!” Officer Traci Lucky announced as she wrapped her arm around Gwen—a skinny woman in her late twenties who looked closer to forty. She had big blue eyes, long black hair, pale skin, and a sizable baby bump.
Traci had found her curled in a ball on the floor in one of the back rooms of a house that she and her partner had just raided on suspicion of being a meth lab. That tip turned out to be wrong, but they’d found enough drug paraphernalia for Dylan to call in reinforcements.
Just as Traci got on the phone to call for an ambulance, Gwen had gotten to her feet and started freaking out. She seemed even hopped up, and Gwen managed to convey that she didn’t want to touch the expense of an ambulance. After a couple of minutes arguing, they compromised. Gwen agreed to go to the hospital if Traci agreed to escort her.
That was how Traci now found herself walking into Bridgeport Hospital’s emergency room with one of her hands wrapped around Gwen’s upper arm so she wouldn’t collapse or run off. The poor woman really did need some help.
Unfortunately, Traci’s call for assistance was being ignored. That was something of note.
Bridgeport’s usually sleepy emergency room was currently a hotbed of action. Twenty people were in the waiting area—nurses, attendants, and support staff were running around like they were in the middle of downtown Cincinnati. Emerson, another officer from Bridgeport was standing off to the side talking on his phone.
After waiting two seconds, Gwen pulled on her arm. “Can I go now?”
“No. You’re getting seen.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Can I at least sit down?”
“Are you ready to listen to me and sit where I tell you?”
Gwen’s already disgruntled expression darkened. “I told you I don’t need to be here.”
“And I told you that you need to get checked out. Your baby needs to be seen to.” Yes, her voice was wickedly sharp and her tone brooked no argument. But this girl was beginning to get on her last nerve.
It took a second, but Traci’s words eventually settled in. “Oh,” she said. A little bit after, Gwen got that vacant look on her face that Traci knew too well. This momma-to-be was either high as a kite or coming off of something and about to crash.
Traci gritted her teeth. She loved being a cop. Loved it. Few things—the hours, the craziness, or even the paperwork—got to her anymore. But, out of everything she saw in her line of work—and in all the years in Cleveland, she’d seen a lot—pregnant mothers who also happened to be drug addicts was her kryptonite. She hated it. Hated it.
Though she knew the reason why—her mother had taken a fair share of drugs when she’d been pregnant with Traci—trying to take her personal feelings out of the equation didn’t help. All she saw were babies in need of care and women who were either incapable or couldn’t be bothered to do anything different.
Still afraid to leave Gwen in a chair, Traci approached the crowded reception desk. The receptionist, Sharon, looked up, immediately took in Traci’s uniform and Gwen’s condition, and froze.
“Yes?”
“We need some assistance. This woman needs an obstetrician.”
Sharon looked over Gwen curiously. “Is she in labor?”
“No,” said Gwen.
“What’s the emergency, then?” Sharon asked.
“I’m afraid that’s a private matter.” Putting a bit more force into her voice, Traci continued. “Look, we need to see someone as soon as possible. Where can I take her? You got an empty room back there?” Traci asked, gesturing toward the triage area.
The dark-haired woman looked skeptical. “Well . . .”
“She can’t just come in here and take a spot. We’ve been waiting for an hour,” a man standing on her right interrupted.
In another life, Traci might have agreed with him. She knew she was absolutely using her uniform to get her way. But she knew that if she didn’t push this, Gwen would disappear back into the woodwork of the town, and that baby would be born without a lick of care. And, well, if that happened? Traci didn’t know if she would be able to handle that.
“She needs to be seen stat. I have to get back to work.”
The man folded his arms over his chest. “I do, too.”
“Sharon? Where can we go?”
Looking as if she knew she was fighting a battle she couldn’t win, Sh
aron sighed. “Fine. Take this woman to five,” she said to an orderly. “I think it just opened up.”
“Thanks,” Traci said.
“Hey, wait!” the man grumbled. “That’s not fair.”
Traci ignored him as she shuttled Gwen through the electronic gate and to a set of double doors. The doors swung open, revealing a beehive of well-organized activity.
Gwen got quieter with each step, and almost seemed to grow younger as well. Her eyes widened as she took in the area. Within seconds, two nurses took charge of Gwen. After getting her weight, they escorted Gwen to a curtained room.
Traci stood outside the curtain, half listening to the nurses’ questions and Gwen’s mumbled half-coherent replies. Everything she heard made her cringe and ache to leave. Why had she gotten saddled with this girl, anyway? It felt too personal and too hard.
“Who are you here for?”
Traci looked up and blinked. There, standing right in front of her, was a movie-star handsome man in light-blue scrubs and a white lab coat. A stethoscope was around his neck.
Getting to her feet, Traci pointed to the closed curtain. “I escorted that woman.”
He pulled down the chart. “Gwen Osbourne?”
“Yep. She’s pregnant and looks to be in bad shape.” She held out her hand. “Traci Lucky.”
“Good to meet you, Officer,” he replied as they shook hands. “I’m Matt Rossi.”
“Good to meet you.” She lowered her voice. “I found Gwen on the floor of a crack house. She’s not exactly here willingly.”
Worry instead of disdain filled the doctor’s eyes, which made Traci feel even more terrible. She should be feeling something more for the woman. Where was her compassion? Obviously something had happened to put Gwen in the situation that she was in.
“Are you going to be here for a while?”
She nodded. “I’m staying until you give me an idea of what I should do with her. I’m pretty certain if I walked out now she’d run.” Plus, she’d promised Gwen that she wouldn’t leave her.
“Okay, then.” He turned and walked through the curtain, greeting Gwen as he did.
Not wanting to hear anything more, Traci took a couple of steps to the right, finally ending up leaning against the closed door of a supply closet. And as the orderlies and nurses and patients passed by, she reminded herself that Gwen’s life was not her mother’s. Gwen’s baby was not going to be Traci.
Every child born into such a heartbreaking situation didn’t end up growing up in a group home like she had. Some, no doubt, did just fine.
And then, because she was alone and no one could see, she closed her eyes and said a little prayer for that baby.
Twenty minutes later, the doctor came out.
“How is she?”
“Struggling.” He sighed. “Her skin looked a little sallow and her eyes yellow. I’m worried she might have hepatitis.”
“Hepatitis.” She knew Gwen could have gotten it from dirty needles. Was that what had happened?
The doctor continued. “We took some blood and ran a couple of tests. Her baby’s heartbeat seems strong, but I’d still like to know what’s in her system before we release her.” He ran a hand through his hair, making the short strands stand up on end. “I’m going to go ahead and admit Gwen. We need to see if she is hep positive. In addition, we’ll need to get her cleaned up and safe, until you can get her someplace better.”
Until she did that. Though she knew it could happen, the responsibility hit her hard. For the near future, she was in charge of Gwen.
She nodded. “Thank you for seeing her so quickly, Dr. Rossi.”
“It’s what I’m here for.” His gaze was warm as he suddenly smiled. “Hey, good job on getting her here.”
Maybe it was because he was so nice. Or he cared so much and was making her want to be better, too. But whatever the reason, she found herself smiling back. And, feeling a little bit better about the world.
“I’ve got to go. I’ll say goodbye but be back tomorrow.”
He looked surprised. “Really? Do you do that for everyone you bring in?”
“No, but I’m committed now. Plus, I’ve got some personal reasons for getting so involved.”
“Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“I hope so,” she replied before she caught herself. After all, this wasn’t some meet-cute. She was doing her job and so was he. They were working.
“Dr. Rossi, we need you,” a nurse called out.
“I’ve got to go. See you, Officer Lucky.” He smiled again before walking down the hall.
Traci stayed where she was and watched him disappear. But as she turned to walk back to Gwen, she realized that the future didn’t feel as bleak as it had just an hour ago.
Huh.
Acknowledgments
It occurs to me that the process of publishing a book is rather like a complicated dance. From writing the first blurbs and story line, to sending it to my agent, to the editors’ and publication board’s approval, a book has to jump through many hoops. After that comes the many people who work on the manuscript and the book’s layout, design, and cover. Finally, a great number of people work on the book’s marketing and sales plans. Sometimes there are even a couple of missteps and falls before the book arrives on the bookshelf all polished and pretty.
With that in mind, I’d like to be sure to thank both Vikki Warner for seeing the possibilities of this series and editor Ember Hood for her help and expertise. Just as important are the other members of my Blackstone family: Alenka for the cover design, Jeff, Greg, Lauren, and Robin for their tireless efforts to package and promote my books and eventually get them on shelves. I’m blessed to work with you all.
As always, I am so grateful for my agent, Nicole Resciniti, who both manages to talk me up and calm me down, sometimes at the same time. I’m also grateful for Yvette at Best of Ballroom for patiently answering many questions about teaching ballroom dancing and to Officer Alex Napier for his very kind advice about the day-to-day life of being both a big-city and small-town cop.
Finally, no note of appreciation would be complete without mentioning my husband, Tom. For this book, he not only listened to me ramble on about plots and problems but also learned to rumba at ballroom dance class. Every author should be so blessed to have a spouse like him.
Thank you all so much for giving this book a try. I’m forever grateful for your support.
Reader Questions
I loved writing about three sisters who were just beginning to know each other. If you have a sibling, how has your relationship changed and grown over the years?
What do you think will happen to the women after their one year together officially ends?
Echoing the sisters’ journey was Dylan and Jennifer’s relationship. How did you see Dylan and Jennifer’s relationship grow during the novel?
One of my favorite parts of the novel was Shannon’s love of dance. Do you have a longtime hobby that has given you joy?
I enjoyed finding quotations about dancing and was surprised by how many of them could be applied to all sorts of things in life. Was there a particular quotation that spoke to you? Why?
My favorite character in the novel was Jennifer. I loved showing her growth and watching her get stronger. She also just happens to love cookbooks as much as I do. I had a good time writing about that. Did you connect with any of the characters in particular? Why?
I ended up taking quite a few ballroom dance lessons for this book. It was fun to tackle a brand-new hobby at fifty years old! What new hobby would you like to try out one day?
Shall We Dance? is the first novel in a series, but it’s also loosely connected with the first novels in the Bridgeport Social Club: Take a Chance, All In, and Hold on Tight. I, personally, love to read books in a series. Do you? What elements do you think mak
e for a good series?
Shall We Dance? Page 23
