Page 34 of Fire in You

“True,” she said happily, slicing off another section of meat. “There are times when I look back, I’m still shocked that Cam and I got together. I was . . . well, I was totally closed off to the idea of dating anyone. He was just determined to change that.”

She leaned against the seat, her hand going back to her belly. “You know, I don’t think I ever told you this, but the guy I dated all the way back in high school was a real dickhead. He hit me.”

I nearly dropped my fork. She hadn’t told me that. “I didn’t know.”

“And let’s just say, when Cam found out, things went down shit creek with no paddle. But the point is, I’ve had crappy taste in guys too. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, especially not when you’ve recognized you had that issue—hadas in past tense. And it’s okay if you turned your head when Grady was about to kiss you. Maybe you’re just not ready for the relationship to get to that level.”

Nodding slowly, I poked at what was left of my omelet. I wasn’t nineteen anymore. I was twenty-six, four years from thirty. So when in the holy hell would I be ready? At exactly what point would I be . . . benormal?

Thank God the conversation moved away from me, and they started talking about their desires to offer their own dance classes. I hated feeling this way—acknowledging that, at times, I had such little confidence in myself. Embarrassing wasn’t even the word for it. No one liked a woman who looked in a mirror and didn’t love what she saw.

Which was so damn ridiculous if you thought about it.

Pulling a mushroom out of the omelet with my fork, irritation pricked at me. I remembered when Abby had first reconnected with Colton and she’d been so uncomfortable with herself. The mere idea of becoming intimate with him terrified her and she’d been embarrassed to even admit she felt that way. What had I said to her? That not having the greatest confidence didn’t make her any less of a person or something to feel bad about?

It made her normal, average even, because the average woman out there didn’t look at herself every day and say “damn, I’m amazing.” Everyone had moments when they doubted themselves and had trouble looking at their reflections for reasons that went beyond the physical.

I’d always felt that being told you should be more confident was like getting slapped in the face. How was being told that supposed to help you feel better?

I needed to cut myself a break. Seriously.

Shoving the mushroom and another chunk of omelet in my mouth, my ears perked up when I heard Avery say, “We would just need the space for a studio. Honestly, at this point, we’d just need a large room, but every place I’d looked at in town needed a lot of work and the rents were ridiculous.”

“What are you guys talking about?” I asked.

Teresa was toying with a napkin, folding it into a tiny square as she said, “You know how Avery and I have been wanting to open up our own dance studio, starting small with just offering a few classes since I’m obviously out of commission for a while.” She patted her belly. “So we just need a space, but what’s available in town is ridiculous.”

“It’s either too big or too small,” Avery confirmed. “And almost always overpriced for the kind of work required to convert the room into an appropriate studio.”

An idea hit me, and I couldn’t believe I had never thought of it before, because I had heard them talk about fulfilling their dreams to start up their own dance company. Then again, I’d never been in this position until now.

“We have quite a bit of space available at the Academy, on the first and second floors, that we’re currently looking at renting out,” I explained, looking between the two. “Most of the space is completely empty. Would obviously need something work to make it ready for a studio, but I know my father wants to expand the kind of services we offer. I know you guys are looking at doing your own thing, but—”

“We’d eventually love to do our own thing, but we know we don’t have the type of capital or reputation right now,” Avery said, practically bouncing in her seat. “Partnering with an organization like the Lima Academy . . .”

“Would be beyond anything we’d expected.” Excitement filled Teresa’s eyes. “Do you have to get permission from your father?”

“Not yet. I just need to talk to . . .” My brows lifted. “I just need to talk to Brock and see what he thinks. If I can convince him, then we might have a space for you. We could have you guys come in, look around, talk about what would need to be done, and how much it would cost.”

“That sounds amazing,” Avery said, exchanging a delighted look with Teresa, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself smile without trying to hide it.

* * *

I was full of nervous excitement, waiting for Brock on Monday. The moment I saw him walk past my office, head down and attention focused on his cellphone, I all but flew from my chair. However, the fact that he didn’t pop his head in or wave as he walked by, like he’d done every day, was odd.

I sat back down, deciding I should wait for a bit.

Not to mention I should probably give him a few minutes to get settled in. ItwasMonday morning, after all.

Half an hour passed before I grabbed my cup of coffee and started toward his office and then pivoted around, heading to the break room. I totally saw nothing wrong with buttering him up with a fresh cup of coffee.

Knowing that he’d liked his coffee black, I grabbed one of the clean, Lima-branded coffee mugs from the cabinet overhead and poured him a cup. I topped mine off after adding another packet of sugar. Turning, I jerked back a step when I saw Paul standing a few feet behind me. Hot coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup, spilling along the top of my hand.

“Ouch,” I muttered, resisting the urge to flail my hand and spill more coffee.

Paul smirked as he stepped around me, walking to the fridge to grab a protein shake. NoI’m sorry. Nohello. Nothing. I watched him pivot around and walk back out of the break room with my mouth hanging open.

“What an asshole,” I muttered.

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