will be, too. How’s the dance prep coming? I heard the clog dancers earlier.”
She laughed. “Sorry about that. I don’t know how to make it quiet.”
“I’m getting used to the noise and they’re getting better.”
“How can you tell?”
“They’re more rhythmic.”
“That’s true. At least most of the students are studying ballet. It’s quieter.”
“Unless they fall.”
She winced, remembering the mass tumble during her two o’clock class. “You heard that?”
“It registered as a minor earthquake. The local seismology office called to see if we were okay.”
She shoved him in the arm. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“They didn’t do it on your head.”
“Smug lawyer type,” she grumbled. “They’re learning. It doesn’t always go well.”
“I didn’t say it had to stop. I’m looking forward to seeing the performance.”
“You’ll be intimately familiar with the music.” She glanced at him. “Will you really come see the show? Won’t you be off visiting family?”
“There’s just me.”
“What about your dad?”
“I never knew him.”
“I didn’t know mine, either. But you probably guessed that from the slight altercation you witnessed yesterday.”
He drew her close and kissed her cheek. “It sucks.”
The blunt assessment was oddly comforting. “It does,” she admitted. “Hey, I don’t know anything about you.”
“I like being mysterious. Sort of a James Bond of the lawyer set.”
She laughed. “Hardly. So tell me something interesting.”
“That’s too much pressure. Ask me a question.”
“Have you ever been arrested?”
“Yes.”
She stopped on the sidewalk and stared at him. “Seriously?”
“More than once.”
“You went to jail?”
“I served time.”
“No way. You can’t have a criminal record and be a lawyer.”
“Pretty and smart,” he told her. “That makes you irresistible. Okay, you’re right. I was a juvenile. My records were expunged.”
“What did you do?”
His normally open expression tightened. “Bad stuff. I was in a gang.”
Evie tried to imagine the well-dressed, smooth man next to her as a kid in a gang. Her imagination wasn’t that good. Before she could figure out what else to ask, he tugged her along and they turned a corner, entering one of the main streets of Fool’s Gold.
Just yesterday the stores and windows had featured turkeys and pumpkins. Any lights had been orange, and garlands had been made of leaves. In the space of a few hours, the transformation to the Christmas holidays had begun.
Baskets of holiday greens with shiny silver and red decorations hung from the lampposts. The windows were now covered with painted holiday displays—pictures of wrapped packages or snowmen, a few nutcrackers. Morgan’s Books had stacks of popular children’s books on tables and a sign promising Santa would be coming to read ’Twas the Night Before Christmas next Saturday, after the town Christmas tree lighting.
Up ahead, in the main square, a large crane was being attached to the biggest live Christmas tree Evie had ever seen in real life. It had to be twenty feet tall.
“But it was Thanksgiving yesterday,” she said, feeling as if she was going to see snow and Dickens carolers any second.
“Tell me about it,” Dante told her. “There’s more.”
He led her toward the center of town, past the tree on the flatbed. Booths had been set up selling everything from hot chocolate to pizza slices.
“Because nothing says the holidays like pepperoni?” she asked.
Dante grinned. “Come on. I’ll buy you a slice.”
They got pizza and soda and walked over to watch the tree being secured by thick chains before being raised into place. The scent of pine filled the air. The pizza was hot and gooey and more calories than Evie usually allowed herself in a day.
She wasn’t a professional dancer anymore, she reminded herself. Or a cheerleader. She could afford to have a BMI over twenty.
Families crowded around them. She recognized one of the women from the brunch yesterday morning, but couldn’t remember her name. She was a pretty blonde, with an adorable toddler in her arms. Her husband held a baby boy.
The little girl pointed to the tree slowly rising from the truck bed. “We have one like that?” she asked.
Her father chuckled. “Sorry, Hannah. Our ceiling isn’t that high. But we’ll pick out a good tree. You’ll see.”
The woman leaned into her husband. They shared a look—one that spoke of love and promise. Aware she’d caught a glimpse of something private, Evie turned away.
Back when she’d still been young enough to believe in miracles, she’d assumed she would find love and have a family. That one day a man would promise to be with her forever. She would belong, and that belonging would finally heal her.
Several bad boyfriends later, she was less sure love was something she could count on and more convinced people who were supposed to love you usually didn’t. She wanted to tell herself it could still happen, but she had a feeling that was just the Christmas tree talking.
She glanced toward Dante. “Thanks for your help yesterday. For getting me home and everything.”
“No problem. Families can be complicated.”
“My mom’s a nightmare.”
“It’s not just her.”
“You mean my brothers?”
Dante looked into her eyes. “Sure, they hold part of the blame, but so do you.”
If they hadn’t been in the middle of a crowd, she would have taken a step back. But more people had stopped to watch the tree put in place, and there was nowhere to go.
“Me? I’m the kid here.”
