Page 131 of Catching Sparks

As if reminded that I didn’t arrive here alone, Brody fixes Garrison beneath a stern stare and leans against the back of his seat, one arm thrown over Anna’s shoulder like normal.

Anna stares up at him, a look in her eyes that speaks to the love between them. It’s hard to remember the woman she was when she arrived in Cherry Peak. She hasn’t changed who she is fundamentally; instead, she just became her full self. Learned who she wanted to be and accepted it.

Pulling her gaze from her man, she glances between me and mine. “Thank you, Garrison.”

“She doesn’t make it easy,” he replies.

I suck air between my teeth. “That’s rude.”

His thumb continues to sweep across the back of my head. “You know it’s true.”

“Maybe so. But let’s not focus on me,” I rush out, focusing on the new face at our table. “I’m Poppy. You’re Aurora, right?”

“Rory,” she says with a nod.

“Well, Rory, this is Garrison, my boyfriend. I’m sorry if he seems a bit prim and proper. He’s still adapting to Cherry Peak.”

“Good to meet you,” Garrison says, ignoring my tease in a way that lets me know I’ll be paying for it later.

I’ll add it to the list of things I’ll be getting punished for tonight. Maybe I’ll make a game out of it.

Rory nods. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

She spreads her plump lips into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s dull and pinched at the corners. For the second time since learning about her, I feel a spike of concern, knowing damn well it’s not my place.

It’s unfair for her eyes to be so sad, considering they’re the prettiest shade of blue I’ve ever seen. Come to think of it, she may be one of the most beautiful women to have stumbled into this town. Her strong bone structure has me in genuine awe, making it hard not to stare at her like a complete creep.

Her hair is a dirty blonde with a series of different highlights and curled to utter perfection. It’s hard to tell with the table between us, but I think we have similar body types. The eyes that I wish weren’t so sad are a steely blue, similar to the colour of the ocean in a rough storm.

“I was telling Rory before you got here that you might be able to squeeze her into one of the upcoming classes next week. If she’s interested, that is,” Anna says.

I nod and offer her a smile. “I’ll take a look at the schedule and let you know. Don’t feel pressured, though. Pole isn’t for everyone, and that’s totally okay.”

“What made you want to create a pole studio?” Rory asks, tone blunt.

I force myself not to let my surprise show at her question, keeping my expression neutral, kind. “Well, I grew up as a bigger girl and never felt like I had a safe space to exercise. Especially not here or any of the cities close enough to drive to every day. I was in Calgary with Bryce a few years ago, and we stumbled upon a pole studio there. For the first time in my life, I felt empowered while working out. Like I was doing something that just spoke to my soul. We got back home, and I took out a loan from the bank and created Beautifully Bold.”

It’s a very watered-down version of the story, but I doubt she wants to hear about how many banks I went through to get an approval for my idea or how broke I was after quitting my job at the post office and putting every hour of every day into creating my company.

“In other words, she’s a kick-ass businesswoman who goes after whatever it is she wants. Garrison is a lucky son of a bitch,” Bryce chimes in.

Rory’s smile grows slightly. “It would appear so.”

“In a perfect world, I’d be able to expand and open more than the single Beautifully Bold location to give more women the chance to join, but that isn’t possible here,” I admit.

“Could there ever be the opportunity of a second location here?” Garrison asks.

Brody answers for me. “Town’s too small. Maybe in fifteen years, but even that is a long shot.”

“It’s unfair,” Anna mutters.

Garrison’s thumb stalls its sweeping motion, and I look up at him in question. He’s frowning at the table, appearing deep in thought. “What about in the cities nearby?”

“None outside of Calgary would be worth the cost of expanding, and that’s three hours away still. I couldn’t manage both locations the way I’d want to,” I say.

The music playing in the bar grows in volume, and I watch as a handful of the other people out tonight slide out of their seats and move to the dance floor. Or what we consider to be one. It’s not much more than a big square at the back of the bar without tables. The wood floor is worn down badly in that section compared to everywhere else, marking it as the official dance area.

“Are you much of a dancer, Rory?” I ask, changing the subject to something far less depressing.

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