Page 56 of Denial
“I know how to walk in heels, Sutton.” My fingers wrap loosely around his arm anyway.
His strong fingers cover mine, sending a sharp current up my arm. “Hold on, or I’ll fuckin’ carry you.” Squeezing once, he lets go.
“Yes, boss,” I sass, gripping his bicep in acquiescence. My muscles seem reluctant to let go as we reach my car.
Sutton crosses to the back passenger side and holds the door open for his little girl. She beams up at him as he helps her tuck her skirt in so it doesn’t get caught in the door.
Not interested in entertaining his suddenly chivalrous behavior, I open the driver’s side and climb behind the wheel.
Sutton appears by my window with his signature scowl. He circles his wrist in a gesture for me to roll the window down.
“Be safe. Nellie, listen to Ms. Thompson and stay where she can see you.”
“I will, Daddy. Can we go now?”
“Yeah, can we go?” I smirk at the overprotective father clutching my open window frame.
“Call me if there’s a problem.” His blue eyes search mine. Either that or he’s trying to perfect mind control. “If anyone gives you a hard time. Either of you.”
A shiver races along my spine.
“You know I will.”
Sutton pushes off and watches until we drive off.
The elementary schoolparking lot is packed with cars. The gym looks like an advertisement for a craft store. The amount of glitter and pink and tulle would have made a younger me revolt back in middle school, when I stuck to wearing black. That’s it. Black nails, black lipstick, black jeans, and black shoes. Specifically, Converse.
We dance the night away. Between movie tunes and kid-safe modern pop songs, a sit-down style dinner is served. The food quality is impressive, considering we’re in a decorated elementary school gym. Despite the organizers’ best efforts, the smell of sweaty children lingers.
Whitney, Bree, and I are cooling off with glasses of fruit punch, looking like three adult chaperones at a high school prom.
“I haven’t danced like this since high school,” Bree groans, rubbing her calf.
“That’s not true. I specifically remember you tearing up the dance floor at my wedding,” Whitney says.
“You might be right. Still. I’m not cut out for this anymore.”
“I’m not either. I love line dancing, but these heels are killing me.” I wiggle my painted toes for emphasis.
Whitney grabs my arm, sloshing fruit punch nearly over the rim. “Oh! That reminds me. A new country bar called The Line & Lariat just opened in Hawk Ridge. They have line dancing. We’re planning to go next weekend and want you to show us the ropes.”
I set down my cup. “That would be amazing. I have this new pair of boots I’m still trying to break in, but I haven’t found a place yet.”
“Yay!” Bree claps her hands. “Now you can. I’m glad we’ll have one pro among our ranks because most of us don’t know what we’re doing.”
I laugh. “I’ll teach you.”
“We can use the training room at the Sanctuary,” Whitney chimes in.
“I’ll just have to make sure Sutton doesn’t need me, or see if he can find cover if he needs to work overtime.”
“He doesn’t have a choice. We’re kidnapping you either way,” says Bree.
Whitney waves her hand. “He had so many people stepping in before you showed up, I’m sure he can find someone. If not, Nellie can come over to our place, and our sitter Scarlett will be happy to have her.”
Something unfamiliar spreads through my chest. A sense of belonging. An inkling that this place might be starting to feel like home.
“I’d love that.” I fight to keep my voice strong.
