Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Sure.” I kept my tone as noncommittal as his.
I doubted he really wanted the latest ballet school gossip. Both Waylon and our sister Helen were only too relieved that I’d been available to step up and help during our mother’s recent health scare. And I’d been happy to do it, and a challenging job market had made my choice that much easier.
Ballet wasn’t my passion, though, my longtime crush on Alexander Dasher notwithstanding, and as Mom recovered, I found myself dodging more and more questions about what was next for me.
Not in the mood to socialize with Waylon and Shannon, nor to seek out Helen or our mother, I drifted out onto the patio, only to collide with a tall man lurking in the shadows near one of the fire pits.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.” Understatement.
As I stepped back, the twinkling lights caught the legendary blond hair of Alexander Dasher. If possible, he was better looking up close and personal than my fourteen-year-old self remembered.
“No problem. I’m sort of hiding out.” Alexander shrugged. His voice was as cultured as his parents, not much trace of the Philly-area accent common around our suburb. “And my cup is empty anyway, so nothing spilled.” He held out an empty clear cup. “Are you collecting trash?”
“Uh. Sure.” The better action would have been to correct his assumption that I was part of the catering staff, but what popped out of my mouth was, “Can I bring you a refill?”
“And save me the trip back inside? Bless you.” Alexander smiled then, a broad, generous, elegant gift of a grin that made my impulsive offer more than worth a little embarrassment and mistaken identity. “Seltzer with lime, no ice.”
“Be right back.” I dashed inside to the bar, where, thankfully, the line for cocktails had died down. I was able to return in short order to present Alexander with the requested drink.
“Thank you.” He gifted me another smile, one I happily returned.
“No problem.” My fingers buzzed from the briefest of brushes as I handed over his drink. “I get wanting to hide, trust me.”
“Oh?” Alexander raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “At least you’re getting paid to be here.”
“Actually—” I opened my mouth to explain, but Alexander continued on with a flick of his wrist.
“I shouldn’t complain. My father deserves a good birthday. It’s not his fault my mother and sister keep trying to introduce me to every unpartnered adult at this thing.”
Ah. This would be a less-than-ideal moment to reveal I’d been angling for my own introduction. Instead, I made a commiserating noise. “Family setups are the worst.”
“Exactly.” Alexander took a long swallow of his drink, and my gaze locked on the long, lean muscles of his chiseled jaw and neck. There was no mistaking him for a caterer as his light sweater looked to be knit out of something airy and expensive and was paired with a perfectly pressed pair of dark dress pants. “There’s no easy way to extradite oneself.”
“Your family undoubtedly means well though.” Yet again, I was about to explain our connection when Alexander shifted his weight from side to side. He winced, and months of looking out for my mother kicked in as I gestured at a nearby lounge chair near the fire pit. “You should sit.”
“Not you too.” Alexander laughed, a deep, musical sound, but his forehead stayed creased with tension. “You know you’re doing a terrible job hiding pain when a random server tells you to rest. No offense.”
“None taken.” I gave up on trying to correct him for the moment. Maybe we’d laugh about the misconception later. One could hope. “And you shouldn’t feel guilty about needing rest.”
“Guilt is my middle name these days.” Alexander took a few stiff steps over to the lounger to perch on the edge, extending one long leg out in front of him. “And it feels like all I do is rest. I’m tired of goofing off.”
“Listening to your body isn’t the same as goofing off.” I’d given my mother this same lecture so often I could do it in my sleep.
“Now you sound like my sister.” Alexander released a groan as he flexed his leg before draining what was left of the drink I’d brought him. “Listen to your body. Take your time. Come back slowly.”
“She’s not wrong.” I tried for the right blend of upbeat and soothing for this pep talk. “But you’ll make it back on stage.”
“You know who I am?” Frowning, Alexander sat up straighter.
“Of course—”
“Of course. I guess everyone here does.” He cut me off yet again before making an apologetic noise and softening his tone. “Sorry. I sound like an entitled ass. It’s been a long couple of weeks after the worst summer of my life. I was enjoying a brief moment of anonymity.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll leave you to your hiding.” My regret was genuine. Whatever brief moment of camaraderie we’d shared was gone, evaporated like smoke from the fire pit. I held out my hand for his now-empty cup. “Can I take your empty cup?”