finding Reese.: a SAFELIGHT novel vol.2 (SAFELIGHT Series) (24 page)

As I’m about to put my phone in the cup holder, it rings, and my heart skips a beat because it’s Stryder calling.

“Stud!”

His chuckles echo through the line, making me smile. “Hey, baby. How’s my Raven Girl doing today?”

“I’m good. Missing you . . . What’s new?!” I laugh. “How’s The Sun-burnt Country? Where are you today?”

“I’m on a white sand beach waiting for the first heat to start. I wish you were here,” he breathes. “What are you up to?”

“I’m waiting for Jax. He’s getting us coffee and then we’re headed to the medical center for a physical therapy session.”

“How is Jax coming along? Is he getting better?”

“Yeah, he’s good. Listen . . . I think he cut Sam loose.”

Stryder hums, and then says, more to himself than to me, “Hmmm. That’s interesting.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, he’s been hung up on her for years. The optimistic side of me wants them to get together, but I know Sam is a free bird . . . Did he tell you why he cut her loose?”

“He says he knows where he stands, and she doesn’t believe in exclusivity.”

Stryder chuckles and says, rather than asks, “Did he meet someone new?”

I sigh, and look out the window to make sure Jackson hasn’t left the coffee shop. “He did. She seems like a nice girl, but I don’t know. It’s too soon to say. Maybe the accident put things into perspective for him, you know?
Carpe Diem?
”

“Well I’ll be damned. This is good news, Cat. Why do I get the impression you aren’t thrilled?”

“No, no. It’s not that,” I huff over the line. “I just don’t want him to rebound. It’s not fair to the other person, if that makes sense. He needs to recover first.”

“Here’s the thing, Catalina. We guys aren’t wired the same way women are. When we turn the page, that’s it there’s no turning back. He’s a big boy and he knows what he’s getting into. My advice is to stay out of it.”

I huff in irritation. “Stryder, do not confuse my need to protect Jackson with narrow-mindedness. Hell, there’s nothing I want more than for him to find love, happiness, and stability. Unlike you, Jackson is sensitive. I think there’s more to him than you’re aware,” I mutter.

“Whoa, Cat! That’s
not
what I meant. When I said stay out of it, I meant to let Jackson arrive at his own conclusions, not that you’re narrow-minded or meddling in his business. Don’t get upset, baby.”

I tug at the long strand of my braid, feeling the knots. I don’t know what to say.

“Babe, are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” I reply flatly.

“Jeez, you’re mad at me. I’m sorry, Cat,” he says awkwardly. In the background I hear a voice on a loudspeaker, followed by deafening cheers. “Babe, I have to go. The heat is starting now. I’ll call you tonight,” he yells over the phone.

“Bye, ba−” I try to say, but the line goes dead. Frustrated, I toss my phone into the cup holder, and rest my head against the steering wheel. As my hands wrap around my chest, the passenger door opens and Jackson hands over a tray with our drinks. I force a smile, but he isn’t buying it.

“What’s wrong, Pardo? What’s with the sad puppy face?” he asks, frowning.

I shake my head. “It’s work, but first . . . tell me. How’d it go with Ashley?”

Jackson beams, his crisp blue eyes glimmering. “Awesome actually . . . It was less awkward and
very
entertaining,” he replies, wiggling his eyebrows. “Look,” he says, pointing at my paper cup.

I lift it from the tray and inspect the “name” written in black marker in what I presume is Ashley’s handwriting.
My name is Catalina Pardo, and I’m a Caffeine Addict.
Cute. Very cute. I smile and lean over to kiss his cheek. “What does yours say?” I ask, dying to know what’s written on his. Jackson hands it over, and I laugh loudly.

Gimpy McGee.

“Did you ask her to write this, Jax?”

“No . . . She came up with that one all on her own,” he replies with a giggle. “I asked her to write the first thing that came to mind. The little shit wrote that.”
Oh, I like her tons already.

“Not for nothing, but I think we need to visit this coffee shop every day, Jax,” I say encouragingly. “If her marker talents make you happy then I’m all for it.” I take a sip from my cup and smile. “Plus, she makes a mean cup of coffee.”

I turn the ignition, and the engine roars to life. As I’m pulling away from the coffeehouse, Jackson looks out the window. He raises his hand and waves, and when I look at the rearview mirror I see Ashley leaning against the glass doors, waving goodbye. I smile to myself and stop at the stop sign longer than legally required to give them a moment.

I turn on the radio and The Stroke’s “You Only Live Once” plays. Jackson straightens in his seat, and we drive away into the early morning sun, singing at the tops of our lungs. I guess I can’t be all that irritated with Stryder. He’s right. I need to let Jackson work at his own pace, not mine. When you love someone, the urge to protect them from harm can easily turn into smothering. I wouldn’t say I’m smothering Jackson . . . Well, maybe a little, but it’s because I adore him and want to see him happy.

We arrive at the medical center, and after Jackson is called to enter the therapy room, I step outside and head towards the large fountain in front of the building. I need to speak with Kaelan.

“Catalina! So nice to hear from you!” she answers the phone. “I presume by now you’ve heard . . .”

“Yes, though I was unsure you were in the know. What are your thoughts?”

“I think it’s a great idea, Catalina. Why do I sense you don’t approve of a follow-up story?”

I smile as I look at the fountain. Kaelan’s shrewd intuition reminds me of my own. “Jackson needs to focus on healing at his own pace, not because the press demands to know whether or not he’ll snowboard again.
Xsports
can down play this all they want, but I
know
it’s a ploy to secure an exclusive. I feel I’m being used for my friendship with Jackson.”

Kaelan laughs softly over the line. “That is true. However, you have to see this as an opportunity for Jackson to get off his ass and get back in the game. I agree with you on everything you’re saying, but you and I both know he needs this. Everyone loves a great comeback story, and who better than you to write it? I saw an online proof of your article. Clever title by the way. I’ll admit you captured Jackson better than anyone ever has. Hell, I think you see him better than he sees himself . . .”

“That’s very kind of you, Kaelan. Thank you.”

“Nonsense, Catalina, no need to thank me. Your work speaks for itself. While I haven’t discussed it with Jackson, I’m moving ahead with your magazine’s proposal, and like last time I am making it a condition that you, and only you, write the article. There is no one I trust more.”

“Okay, I’m in. I’m with Jackson at the medical center . . . Would you like for me to tell him about the proposal, or do you prefer to tell him?”

Kaelan hums, and with a happy sigh, she says, “I think he’ll be more receptive if the proposal comes from you. Tell him that you have my blessing, and this is something he must do, okay?”

I nod. “Indeed.”

We chat for a bit, talking about my stay in Casper and Jackson’s recovery, and then we end the call. Placing my cell in my pocket, I walk through the revolving door of the medical center, and wait for the elevator to arrive. When it chimes and the steel doors open, I’m greeted by a smiling Jackson. I look at my watch and realize an hour has zoomed by.

“Where’d you go?” he asks.

“I was on a call. I’m sorry. I lost track of time. How’d it go? What’s the word?”

Jackson gives me an ear-splitting grin.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yep. I’m regaining mobility in my ankles and if I keep on track, I won’t need surgery. I talked with the good doctor and asked him about dancing. He says it won’t be a problem, though I’m not allowed to do lifts. I’m thrilled!”

I jump up and down, and clap my gloved hands excitedly. I wrap my arms around Jackson’s neck, and kiss his cheek. He returns my hug, and just when he’s about to lift me, I smack the back of his neck. We both laugh, and unlock from each other to walk towards the truck. As we drive away from the medical center, I ask Jackson where we’re headed.

“Downtown . . . I’ll show you the way, okay?”

We make the journey down the serene streets of downtown Casper. There is a vintage feel to this town, and unlike New York City you can pull up to any one of the many shops and find a place to park. Everyone knows each other, and outsiders are seen as curious yet welcome. I love the old-time charm of this place and while it isn’t really home, I feel like it could be.

“Pull up here,” Jackson says, pointing at a vacant spot in front of a shop.

Reese-Moore Dance Company.

Instinctively, I grip the steering wheel harder than usual tense at the possibility of facing Olivia without Stryder. It’s not that I don’t count on Jackson to keep her in line. It’s just that she’s not a nice person.

“It’s not the Reese you’re thinking of, Cat. This place belongs to my oldest sister, Kathryn, and her husband, Gregg Moore,” Jackson chuckles. Stepping out of the truck he walks around to open my door. “This is going to be great!”

“Do they know we’re coming? I don’t think I’m dressed properly . . .”

“Girl, you’re fine. Stop being a pussy, and come meet my sister. She’s dying to meet you!” he exclaims, dragging me along the sidewalk and through the doors of the studio.

As soon as we walk in, I see a class in progress. Six adult couples are dancing to Lee Ann Womack’s “I Hope You Dance.” I watch in fascination as their bodies sway to the beat of the country song. There’s a mystic feeling in the air as, couple by couple, they move across the amber-colored dance floor. I keep my eyes focused on the teacher and her partner, who dance perfectly in each other’s arms.

Jackson leans closer, and pointing towards the couple I can’t take my eyes off from, he whispers, “Kathryn.” I nod and keep watching, fascinated by the effortless movement of their feet, and of Kathryn’s lean body and long arms as she points her fingers in the air while her partner holds onto her body. When the song ends they bow to the other couples present, and I find myself clapping. All eyes turn to focus on me, and I’m positive my cheeks are red.

Kathryn’s gaze meets Jackson’s and she races towards him, her steps so graceful she looks like a wild gazelle. Her shoulder length sandy blonde hair bounces with each step. Jackson opens his arms and she crashes into them with a gleeful squeal. I’ve only heard of her before, and like her Dad, she often travels with her husband around the world for dance-related events. We aren’t acquainted, but it’s easy to see she is nothing like her younger sister. The only common trait they share is their stunning looks, and while Kathryn is shorter than Olivia, she has an incredible smile and crisp blue eyes like Jackson.

“Jaxy!” she cries amid tears, and they hug like they haven’t seen each other in years. When they finally let go, Jackson drapes his arm over my shoulder and makes introductions.

“Kathryn, this is Jupiter’s better half, Catalina Pardo. Cat, meet my wiser and awesome big sister, Kathryn Moore,” he says with a smile.

I extend my hand, and shake hers. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Moore,”

“The pleasure is mine, Catalina. Please, don’t call me Mrs. Moore. It will only make my husband’s, erm, ego grow. Kathryn, just call me Kathryn.” She giggles, letting go of my hand and wrapping me in a tight hug. “Thank you for saving my baby brother’s life. Now, tell me, Catalina . . . what’s it like to tame a wild bull like Jupiter?”

I’m at a loss for words, so I simply laugh. “Well−well . . . it’s nice, or so I’m told.”

Kathryn and Jackson laugh loudly, and another song starts playing. “All right, ladies and gents, let’s show our guests how a Rumba is danced, okay?” Kathryn calls to the people in the room. Redirecting her attention to me, she speaks. “Jaxy told me you want to learn how to dance. With those beautiful hips of yours it shouldn’t be a problem,” she says appraisingly.

“Oh, no . . . You don’t understand. These hips are for show. My feet are the problem . . .” I explain seriously, but again Jackson and Kathryn break into laughter.

“Come on, Cat.
Anyone
can dance. Our parents have ingrained that belief in us, and I have yet to see someone prove them wrong. Have some faith and confidence in yourself, will you?” Jackson encourages, and Kathryn agrees with a nod.

“You see that handsome grump over there?” Kathryn says, pointing at the man standing in front of the mirrors. “That’s Gregg, my husband. He had two left feet, and now we co-teach. We’ll whip you into shape in no time. Trust me.”

I nod, but I’m still skeptical. Kathryn goes on. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but Jupiter is the best dancer of all of us right behind our parents. The man is fierce on the dance floor.”

Jackson looks at me and gives me an I-told-you-so look. “That’s why I want to learn. I don’t want him to be embarrassed with my dance-on-one-tile routine,” I mumble, blushing.

“Then you’re in the right place, Catalina,” she says. “Jackson told me we have several weeks before Jupiter returns. By then we’ll have the basics covered, and you’ll blow his socks off the next time you go out. Sounds like a plan?”

“Yes,” I exclaim, thrilled and terrified at the same time.

“Wonderful! I’ll pair you up with Gregg, and you can work on basics as soon as the class is over.”

“No, Kathryn,” Jackson says. “I’ll be her partner.”

“But your ankles, Jaxy, not to mention you haven’t danced for a while. I figured Gregg might be a better fit for her,” Kathryn says, resting her hands on her hips.

Jackson cups his sister’s face and kisses her forehead. “I’m okay to dance. The doctor has given me the go-ahead, plus you and I both know dancing is the best medicine.

Kathryn nods. “Okay, brother, but no lifts and I’d hold off on the jive too. Got it?”

Jackson nods and hugs Kathryn again. “I’m happy to do this with you, sis. I’m going to take Cat back there and find her some shoes. Send me the bill, okay?”

“Oh shut up, Jax. Just get her the damn shoes. New clay to mold, Gregg! I’m excited!”