Page 29 of You're the Reason

“Obviously it’s not.” Her lips pressed into a line.

“I said it’s fine.”

“Can you just be honest with me?”

“Probably not.” Sounded harsh but it was true. Would he tell her that she intrigued him and angered him at the same time? Not a chance. Would he tell her how many times he had wondered what might have happened if he hadn’t waited until she was leaving for Paris to talk to her—to ask her out? Another solid no.

A sadness crept into her eyes, and for just a second, the polished, poised Grace melted away. The hard shell was gone, and she was just Grace, the girl next door.

His tone softened. “Just be careful. If you lift wrong, you’ll mess up your knee worse.”

“Oh.” Grace eyed the weight a moment, then looked back at him.

“Can you help me?”

“No.”

“I don’t mean now. But my doctor told me to consider a trainer. I would hire you.”

“Still no.”

“Why? I thought we could start over. Be friends.”

Friends? Training? No, way. All that would lead to more time with her which would lead to him wanting what he couldn’t have. He’d already spent enough years of his youth wasted on that.

When he didn’t answer, her hand clenched at her side. “Why are you so difficult?”

He shrugged. It wasn’t like he would tell her all that. He shifted his weight to the other foot. “And I would appreciate it if you could wait on the Bach wake-up call until a little later.”

Her eyes rounded as her hands came to her face. “I didn’t realize the sound would carry. Or that you would know Bach.”

Cause why would Seth Warner know anything civilized, right? “It’s fine. I’m going for a run. But in the future, if you could wait until after eight o’clock to start, I would appreciate it.”

He was up before seven but if she waited until eight, then just maybe he wouldn’t have to have the image of her dancing branded on his mind every day before he started work.

With that, he hurried out the back door and broke into a steady jog, slightly faster than his normal pace. He’d been wrong—sharing this space with her, even for just a couple months, might just kill him.

Grace punched the mound of bread dough in the antique bowl and then again. When she admitted to Ms. Margret that she’d invited her parents over, the woman decided it was a great time for Grace to learn to make bread. When Ms. Margret had suggested she take her frustrations out as she kneaded the dough, one face had come to mind.

Seth had shot down the idea of training her faster than she could have done a petit allegro. No explanation, nothing. Just no. She’d even offered to hire him, and by the look of his car she’d seen in the parking lot, he could use the money. But he wanted nothing to do with her. Punch. Which was fine. Punch. She didn’t need him or his help. Punch.

“That’s some frustration.” Ms. Margret wandered back into the kitchen and peered in the bowl.

“Sorry.” Grace pulled her hands from the dough. “I hope I’m not ruining it.”

“Not at all.” Ms. Margret patted her shoulder. Her former instructor was certain if they made this one together today, then Grace could make the one for her parents’ dinner in two days all by herself. Gace wasn’t convinced, but she appreciated Ms. Margret’s confidence in her. “What has you so worked up?”

“I need to weight train, but Seth won’t help me. And I will never get back to the stage without it.”

“Is that the worst thing that could happen?”

“Not getting back to the stage? Yes. My ballet career is all I have.”

Ms. Margret covered the dough with a cloth. “While we wait for this to rise again, would you take me for a drive?”

Grace did a quick wash of her hands, then walked over to the entryway to slide her shoes on. “Oh, sure. To JJ’s?”

Grace checked her watch. Hopefully, the local grocery store would still be open. It definitely didn’t provide the variety or long hours that Meijer did, but it was great in a pinch, and Margret preferred to shop local.

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