Pas de Deux: Part One (A Cross and Pointe Novel Book 1) (17 page)

They held each other’s gazes, until the heat of his became too much, and she dropped her eyes. “Um. Are you heading back to the gym now?”

“Yeah, eventually. I practically live there lately, so it’s nice to get out once in a while. You stayin’ long?”

“Not too much longer. My sister is picking me up in about forty-five minutes. Hey—do you like froyo? There’s a place just down the street from here, and I’m starving. Do you wanna come with me? My treat, since you got the cheesesteaks last night.”

“You don’t owe me for anything. But, yeah, I’ll wait with you.”

“Let me grab my stuff.”

Sammi hurried across the springy wooden floor to put on her coat and change out of her pointe shoes into a pair of worn woolen boots. She slung her bag on one shoulder and led Cillian out of the studio and into the drizzly evening.

They walked beneath the business awnings, passing lit storefronts. Despite the chill, Sammi couldn’t keep a little smile off her face; she loved the rain. Cillian sauntered close behind her, his baseball cap pulled down and the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up. Sammi had a feeling that it had more to do with the few stares of recognition he drew and less with the weather.

Inside the yogurt shop, her smile widened as she inhaled the sweet scent in the air. She glanced at Cillian, seeing his brow furrow as he took in a dozen soft serve frozen yogurt machines against the wall and the two topping bars.

“You like yogurt, right? We could get something else.”

“I like it. Just tryin’ to figure out what I can eat. Training diet.”

“Lame.” Sammi playfully rolled her eyes and handed him a cardboard bowl, which he filled with a little plain, low-fat vanilla yogurt and topped it with granola and berries.

She eyed his bowl and lifted an eyebrow before filling her own with chocolate peanut-butter cup flavored yogurt, and topped it off with chopped cookies, crumbled candy bar, raw chocolate chip cookie dough, and a generous drizzle of hot fudge.

“You’re judging me.”

Sammi smirked. “Not at all. I’m judging your yogurt.”

“
Training
,” he sighed.

She took his bowl from his hand, setting it on the scale at the register next to hers and pulling her wallet out.

Cillian held out a hand. “Wait a minute.”

“Shh.” Sammi took her change and removed their bowls and handed one to Cillian. “Here’s your boring yogurt, sir. I said it was my treat.”

Cillian smiled and swirled his spoon around. “Thanks. Wanna trade?”

Laughter bubbled from her throat. “Hell, no.”

Outside, they sat down on the wooden bench just outside the shop, under the awning. She glanced at Cillian, who was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hunched over his bowl.

“Is this okay?” she asked, realizing he might not want to be outside. “I was just thinking how much I love the rain. We can go back inside if you like. It’s kinda cold.”

“No, I’m good.” Cillian spooned up some yogurt. “I like the rain, too.”

“What’s your favorite thing about it?”

He played with his spoon. “What’s yours?”

“The smell. And the way it just…unleashes something creative inside me. Part of the reason I wanted to dance tonight. Now, it’s your turn.”

“My favorite thing about the rain,” he said, poking at a berry, “is that it’s not the desert. Exact the opposite of that…place.”

“Sounded like you were gonna call it something else.” She looked at his still-bowed head.

“I was, but ‘fuckin’ hell hole’ just seemed rude at the moment, for some reason.” He glanced over at her and offered a half-hearted smile. “You’re a hard person to track down.”

Sammi glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“I was gonna call you about your meds, then I remembered that the number we have on file doesn’t work.” Cillian swirled a berry in his yogurt before popping his spoon in his mouth.

“Oh, yeah.” Sammi shifted uncomfortably. “That. I didn’t give you a fake number…I just haven’t had that one for a little while now.”

“How long?”

“Um. Like, a year.”

He chuckled. “I figured as much. Your friend Jazz gave me your number.” He pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket and Sammi saw her own phone number written out in Jazz’s large, bubbly handwriting. “Hope that’s all right with you.”

“It’s fine. You should, um, send me a text or something so I have yours, too.”
God, how long has it been since I’ve had this conversation with a guy?

“Your friend also mentioned you’ve been havin’ a rough day. Wanna talk about it?”

Sammi sighed and popped a giant spoonful of yogurt into her mouth before answering.
Go with the ballet. It’s safer than the subpoena.

“Just…feeling a little stressed out. And on top of that, my favorite ballet in the history of the world is coming to town and I won’t be able to see it.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t justify spending so much money on something so…frivolous.”

“I wouldn’t call that frivolous.”

“Compared to things like food and bills, it is. I’m on a strict budget, you know? I want that dance studio. And not seeing
Giselle
is worth it if I can get it.”

“I understand that, but sometimes you gotta take time for yourself.”

“I have it on DVD. And I saw it live once in New York. It’s not the end of the world.”
Now, see if you can say that and mean it.

“So that’s it? The ballet?” He held up a hand. “Not that I’m sayin’ that’s not a big deal. Just wondering if there was anything else on your mind.”

“Like…what?” She looked down at her boots.
Like last night
. Cillian’s hand, resting on his knee, moved a tiny fraction of an inch in her direction.

“Like last night.”

“Samantha!”

The impatient female voice met her ears over the distant sound of traffic and she snapped her head up in annoyance. Her older sister, Niq, was behind the wheel of her car, pulling up to the curb. She was frowning, her eyes cutting back and forth between Sammi and Cillian.

Cillian glanced at Sammi. “Guessin’ that’s your sister?”

“Loudest mouth on the block,” Sammi sighed, getting to her feet. He followed her to the curb.

“Samantha,” Niq said again. “Who is that?” She pointed at Cillian as if he wasn’t standing right there, and Sammi clapped a hand to her forehead.

“Niq, please.”

Niq’s large brown eyes narrowed as they took Cillian in, and as she got a good look at his face, recognition lit up in her eyes. “Oh, my—hey! It’s you. The guy. The Army hero guy. The soon-to-be MMA guy. My husband’s a big fan.”

“Oh.” Cillian cleared his throat and nodded.

Sammi groaned in embarrassment. “Niq,
please
. He has a name. Cillian Ronan.”

“Cillian, of course, I knew that. I didn’t know my sister knew you.” Niq scooted into the passenger seat and leaned out the window, flashing a charming smile up at Cillian. “She never mentioned she had famous friends.”

“Niq!” Sammi hissed. “Please!”

“So, we’ll see you Sunday, then?” Niq went on casually.

Oh, my God. No, she didn’t.

Cillian brow creased with confusion as he looked at Sammi. “What’s Sunday?”

Niq glared at Sammi. “You didn’t ask him to Sunday dinner? That is wicked rude. The guy’s a war hero. What is wrong with you?”

“Niq, what the hell is wrong with
you
?” Sammi demanded, bringing her fingers to her temples. She jumped when she felt Cillian’s elbow dig lightly into her ribs. “Besides, Sunday’s Mother’s Day. He has a mother. He’s busy.”

“We actually do a big breakfast for my mom.” His eyes twinkled. “So, am I still invited?”

She gaped at him, astonished. “You—you
want
to come?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I? Your sister is expecting me.”

Niq’s triumphant smile returned. “The whole family. Or, they will be when I tell them about this.” She waved a finger. “Not just any random guy off the street is gonna hang around our little Sammi without meetin’ the family, no offense. Mother’s Day or not.”

“Understood.”

“Good. So we’ll see you on Sunday. Come hungry. I’ll let her give you the details later.”

“Oh, thank you.” Sammi rolled her eyes.

“Sammi, get in here, already.” Niq slid back into the driver’s seat. “Goodnight, Cillian,” she called, giving him a big smile. “See you later.”

“Nice meeting you.” Cillian lightly touched Sammi’s arm. “Guess you better get goin’.”

“I’m sorry about all this. I’m the baby of the family, this is how they treat me—like a fourteen-year-old. You seriously do not need to come on Sunday. Just ignore her.”

“Are you…uninviting me to Sunday dinner?”

“I mean, clearly you can come if you want, but I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything…”

“I’d like to come.” He smiled.

Sammi stared up at him doubtfully. “You remember I’m Italian, right? With a big, crazy-ass loud family? We made ball-busting into an art form. Plus, I repeat, I’m the baby of the family. You don’t know what they’ll do to you—”

“Stop.” Cillian chuckled. “I can handle myself. Plus, it would only make
you
look bad if I didn’t come. Your sister just said she was gonna tell your whole family she saw us together.”

“She will, too.” Sammi glanced over at her impatient sister.

“All right, then. Just tell me when and where.” Cillian nodded toward the car. “You better go before she kills you or me or both of us.”

Sammi sighed. “All right.” She gave him another doubtful look. “I—we’ll talk later.” She tossed her empty yogurt bowl into a nearby trashcan and climbed in beside her sister, who was wiggling her fingers at him in an obnoxious wave goodbye before pulling into traffic. He waved back.

“I can’t believe you did that, Niq.”

“Shit, you’re welcome. He’s hot.”

“But we’re not like that. We’re friends.”

“You like him.” Her tone was softer.

“I—yeah, I mean, he’s a friend, like I said. I tend to like my friends.”

“Sam, you know what I mean.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway.” Sammi watched a droplet of rain roll down the glass. “When he finds out about me, he’ll run.”

As he should.

Her sister said nothing, but reached across the seat and squeezed her hand.

“I’ll take the deposit again tonight, Jay,” Sammi called out Wednesday evening as she quickly swept behind the counter. She grabbed a rag and wiped down the counter and hurried to the back to begin the dishes.

Jazz eyed her coolly from the counter where she was making lemon cupcakes. “Why are we in such a hurry tonight? You don’t teach until seven. And it’s only five.”

“I know, but, like, um…” Sammi made a rolling motion with her index fingers to stall. “I just have some errands to run. Stuff to do you. You know. It’s Wednesday.”

“Like working on your showcase piece?” Jazz lazily spooned lemon curd into the small holes cut into her freshly baked cupcakes.

Sammi sighed. She should have known better; Jazz was the closest person to her outside her family and knew her about as well, often better. Like Carmela, Jazz also had the uncanny ability to simply
know
things, which made fibbing difficult.

“Fine. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to think that this means I’ve agreed to do the showcase. I’ve agreed to nothing.”

“But you
are
working on a piece.”

“No. I’m practicing my choreography skills with a sample piece. That’s all.”

“All right. I can appreciate that. I don’t mind if you leave early to work on your showcase piece. Or hang out with Cillian some more. Whatever.”

“Oh, my God.” Sammi rolled her eyes as she began to rinse off the dishes. “It’s not even like that. He’s a friend.”

“A friend who gallantly came to your aid on Saturday at the bar. Who took care of you at the gym the other night and who you hung out with until the wee hours of the morning. Who you hung out with
again
last night.” Jazz tilted her head and pursed her lips, staring at Sammi pointedly before going back to her lemon curd.

Sammi filled the other large sink basin with hot, soapy water. “He’s not an asshole. He wouldn’t have left me hanging in either situation. He’s not like that. And as for last night, he brought me my meds. Which, I know you know about. He said that you gave him my number.”

“I don’t recall.”

“Jay, he showed me the paper with your handwriting.”

“Erroneous.” Jazz reached for a pastry bag with lemon buttercream. “Anyway, don’t change the subject. Let’s not forget he is also that
friend
who’s coming over for an Italian Sunday dinner to meet your whole entire family. I know exactly what that means.”

“Yeah, it means that he got railroaded into it when Niq rolled up and started bossing everyone around like she always does. He’s a nice guy. What was he gonna do, say no?” Sammi applied her sponge to the dish with more force than necessary.

“Why not? He doesn’t know your family. You’re both grown, he doesn’t need your parents’ permission to date you or hang out with you. He agreed to come because he wants to. Because he likes you.”