Once in her life she wanted to pretend she was the belle of the ball instead of the girl who planned the party. She wanted to live on the wild side instead of treading the responsible path. She wanted to be the woman who lived a dream.
You could do that. You could dance with the man every single woman fantasized about all night. No one is here. That eliminates the risk of anyone knowing.
Then tomorrow she’d return to work. Zane would resume caring for Ginny. When they ran into each other, they’d smile and make polite conversation before moving on.
Never date a man who’s more attractive than you are.
Her mother’s advice had rattled in the back of her brain all night. Attractive people drifted toward other beautiful people. And she was as common as a dandelion. Zane asking her to dance and his persistence bothered her. She’d asked him that straight out, but instead of answering, he’d acted as if she’d wounded his pride.
Experience had taught her nothing good happened when she ignored her gut instincts or broke the rules. “I know something’s not right here, but more importantly, my mama told me to never date a man who’s better looking than I am.”
He laughed. “I’m not asking you for a date, only a dance. That’s—”
“As far as I’m concerned, I’ve taken her advice to mean never date or have anything to do on a personal level with a man who’s more attractive than I am.”
Then she turned and walked out of the ballroom.
*
Tuesday morning asMcKenna stared into her closet, she found herself grateful to be going into work. Helping her sister after her go-round with Zane meant the weekend had worn her out, both emotionally and physically.
She couldn’t believe what she’d said to Zane.I never date or have anything to do on a personal level with a man who’s more attractive than I am.Talk about blunt and a social faux pas. Despite that, she didn’t regret her comment. Whatever his reason for asking her to dance, now she and Zane had a clear understanding. While possibly awkward when she encountered him, she’d handle it with a quick hello and benign chitchat.
Dismissing Zane, she turned her attention to her closet. Excited to start her first full week in charge, she selected a black suit and a pale blue blouse then added a simple pearl necklace, earrings, and black pumps. After dressing, she headed into the living room of her 1950s two-bedroom ranch house.
She uncovered Captain Jack Parrot’s birdcage and smiled. Having always wanted a pet, but been turned down because her mother insisted they were too messy, when McKenna got her first apartment, she researched pets. She discovered cats and dogs required more attention and care than she had time for. However, birds proved lower maintenance yet were social, intelligent, and great in small apartments.
“Good morning, handsome,” she said as she gave him fresh food and water.
Instead of answering, Captain Jack turned his back on her.
“Still mad, I see. I’m sorry I was gone. I couldn’t help it. I had to help Erin.”
At the mention of her sister’s name, Captain Jack spun around. “It’s all a bad dream.”
Maybe it had been a mistake teaching him some of the other Captain Jack’s famous lines but dealing with Erin’s latest crisis had been a bad dream. When McKenna arrived, Erin appeared more fragile and vulnerable than she’d ever seen. Her right eye black, bruises on her arms from where Lance’s fingers had dug into her skin, stiff and sore from bruised ribs, she shuffled across the room to greet McKenna. As horrible as Erin’s injuries were, McKenna had said a thankful prayer they weren’t more severe. Unfortunately, she suspected her sister’s emotional injuries wouldn’t heal as quickly as the physical ones.
Unable to help her sister heal other than listen, McKenna focused on accomplishing tasks. Sunday, she and Erin met with the apartment manager to see about getting her moved to a different complex. After getting possibilities, they checked them out online. Next, they hammered out a budget. Monday, they started the process to obtain a protective order against Lance. By the time McKenna left, Erin felt more optimistic about her future, while McKenna felt she’d spent her weekend overseeing a two-day therapy session while running a marathon.
“Quit being stubborn, Jack. I’ll make up for it tonight. I promise. Now I’m off to work,” she said as she grabbed her gray tote containing her work laptop and other essentials for her twelve-minute commute.
Once on Throckmorton Avenue, the main street through town, she passed a variety of businesses. Hardware, clothing boutiques, an art gallery featuring Cassie Reynolds-Barnett’s work and other local artisans, as well as a couple antique stores and restaurants, all resided on the town square.
But what kept the town alive was tourism, thanks to the wishing well, and its legend. While she hadn’t visited the well, she’d heard the legend. Supposedly only those wishes made for another by someone with “the purest of heart, out of the deep and abiding love” like the two original sisters shared would come true.
After leaving the square, more houses came into view and then on the edge of town, was the newer part of town with the Brookshires grocery store and the Walmart. While moving to Wishing had been a culture shock after Houston, there was something about this town. More than simply its picture-postcard beauty. She enjoyed the slower pace, the emphasis on community and family a big city couldn’t replicate. As a child having moved so often, she quit counting by middle school. The fact that most people had lived here for generations appealed to her. Women her age had aunts, uncles, cousins, and their children often living in town or nearby. No spending Christmas or any other holiday alone with that many relatives around.
Past the Walmart were farms and ranches. As the houses grew farther apart, she drove a couple more miles and turned onto a two-lane blacktop road which led to the ranch. A minute later she headed down the long gravel drive to the big barn, as Ginny called it, which housed the Lucky Stars Weddings offices, a ballroom, and a small kitchen.
After parking, rather than going in the front barn doors, McKenna walked around back to the office entrance, then through a small outer room treated as a mud room. Once inside the office, she froze. There in the main, large open area with a small round table with four chairs, bookshelves for samples, and a few armchairs, sat Zane on a yoga mat. Shirtless, wearing only sleek black athletic pants, feminine appreciation for the male form on display sent blood surging through her. Every nerve stood at attention, ready for action. Her body flushed and her breathing accelerated. If she felt this tingly merely looking, what would it have felt like to be in Zane’s arms dancing? Thank goodness she’d said no.
His eyes closed, his chin tilted upward, Zane sat crisscross applesauce as her kindergarten teacher used to say. His powerful arms rested on his knees, but what caught her attention was his bare chest. Magnificent with unbelievably well-defined muscles, made it impossible to look away.
“What’re you doing here?” McKenna blurted out, flinching at her sharp tone.
His eyes remained closed. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m doing yoga. You should try it. You sound tense this morning.”
What woman wouldn’t sound wound up walking in to find a half-dressed Zane in her office? The sight of him fully clothed could brighten Grumpy Cat’s day.
