Page 7 of Always Earned, Never Given

Not a day goes by that I don’t wish things were different. I’d have given it all up for another day with my parents.

Dad and I shared a love of rock music. He played drums in a band all through high school and college. He pushed it to the side when he joined the state troopers but made sure it was our thing. We’d listen to music together for hours, picking cool versions of different songs that I could use for ballet.

You’d be surprised how amazing an acoustic version of a rock song can be for a ballet or lyrical dance.

Just as Axel Rose starts singing about needing a little patience, my phone rings through the Bluetooth in my car. I click the button on my steering wheel. “Hello?”

“Annabelle, hey.” There’s a pause. “It’s Declan Sinclair.”

I’d know that voice anywhere. That voice has no idea that the body it belongs to stars in my favorite fantasies.

“Hi, Declan,” I answer, a little anxious about what he might want.

There’s another pause before he speaks again, “Is this a bad time?”

“No,” I answer quickly, trying to pull myself together. “I’m just heading into the dance studio. Is everything okay?”

“I actually have a favor to ask. I’m sorry to bother you with this, but I have to go to a fundraiser for a local senator Saturday night. The team sprung it on me yesterday and then told me I needed to bring a date. I don’t know anyone in the city, and they don’t really want me calling an escort service,” he rambles.

You’ve got to be kidding. I stop him. “Declan, can I give you a little piece of advice on asking a girl out on a date, even if it’s just a friend you need a favor from?”

“Annabelle, I didn’t mean—”

I cut him off. “Do. Not. Tell her she is one step above a hooker.” I did not get enough sleep to deal with this today.

“I’m sorry, Belle. That came out wrong,” Declan groans. Frustration and I think embarrassment lace his tone.

I take pity on him. “I’ll need to see if I can get one of the girls to stay with my brother.”

“You mean you’ll go?” he asks, hope lacing his sexy voice.

I pull into the small parking lot behind Hart & Soul and throw my car in park. “If,” I emphasize the word, “I can get someone to watch Tommy, I’ll go. Who’s the Senator?”

“I think they said it’s Senator Cabot.”

“You do realize that’s Sabrina’s dad, right? And that she’s dating your future stepbrother slash sister’s roommate. I think they’ll be there too.” I feel better for a hot minute until I start to think through the implications of leaving Tommy for an entire night. Someone else would have to put him to bed, which could complicate things.

I lift my hot tumbler of coffee to my mouth and blow on it. “Seriously though, Dec, I’ve never left Tommy with someone else needing to put him to bed before. I don’t know how this is going to go, and I may have to leave a few minutes in if I get a call.”

The more I start to think this through, the more this night sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.

“Annabelle, if we can have a few pictures taken of us as we walk in, I’m pretty sure I’ll have satisfied the GM and my dad. I’ll owe you one. Let me know if you want me to talk to Nat for you.” The relief in his voice echoes throughout the speakers of my car.

“Thanks, but she’ll be at the studio tonight to teach a few classes. I’ll talk to her then. What’s the dress code?”

There’s another long silence.

“Hello... Declan? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, shit. I’m trying to find the email that’s got the details, and the trainer is calling my name. Can I call you back? Or I can text you the info later today.”

“Yeah. Go. I’ll call Sabrina.”

“Thanks, Belle. We’ll talk later.” The call ends, and I slam my door shut, momentarily shaken. He called me Belle... and I liked it. Only my closest friends call me Belle. What the hell is wrong with me? I do not have time to catch feelings for the uber gorgeous Declan Sinclair. It doesn’t matter how his velvety smooth voice affects me, or what my name sounds like on his lips. My mind starts to wander to what those lips would feel like on my skin, and that same skin warms at the thought.

When I step into the studio, I turn on the lights and shake myself out of my daydream.

Tommy and the studio.

That’s all I’ve got room for in my life.

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