excitement in his voice was palpable and Jenna was amazed. She would never have pegged this boy, who looked so at home in this rugged country, to be a fan of television dance programs. “Do you study dance?” she asked.
He shook his head regretfully. “We have line dancing, Western dancing, that kind of stuff. But no dance school around here.” He glanced around as if worried someone might hear him. “Even if there was, I probably wouldn’t be allowed to take classes.”
“Why not?”
“My family doesn’t exactly approve of boys—” he made quotation marks in the air in front of him “—waltzing around in tights.”
“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” Jenna asked softly, studying the teen’s profile. His focus was back on the tire but his mouth was a grim, frustrated line. “If it’s any consolation, my family’s still trying to get me to go to law school.” She truly felt for him.
“Really?” His expression brightened at that. “Are you gonna go?”
“No,” she answered. “I’m a dancer, even if they don’t see it.”
“That’s how I feel!” He had the spare on now and was staring at her, eyes wide. Jenna realized she was probably the first person he’d ever met who understood that. She wished there were something she could do for him. If he lived in San Francisco, she’d give him her card and encourage him to come to the ballroom for lessons. But out here? Somewhere beyond the tiny town of Benson? There wasn’t much she could do.
She moved her bags to the backseat and the boy loaded the flat tire into her trunk.
“I can’t thank you enough,” she told him. The flat tire had been just one more bad event in a terrible day, but right now she was almost glad it had happened. She liked this kid.
He blushed and looked away. “It’s no big deal,” he said.
“I never got your name.”
“Paul.”
“Paul, I’m Jenna. I wish there was more I could do to help you get started dancing, but I’m only here for the weekend. But when you’re looking at videos, make sure they show real technique, not just where to put your feet. The instructor should show you exactly how to place your arms and legs, your torso, your head. They should talk about the shape of your hands—even what part of your foot hits the floor first. Go slow and pay attention to all that.”
Paul nodded, his face serious. He was obviously taking in every word. “I’ll do that. Thanks, Jenna.”
He stuck out his hand and she shook it awkwardly. “Do you know where you’re going from here?” he asked. “Want me to set you in the right direction?”
“That would be great. It’s Jack Baron’s place? It’s off of...” Jenna tried to picture the name of the street, scrawled on a piece of paper in her car.
“I know it,” Paul said. “He’s a friend of my brother’s. Head back to the highway and go south about a mile and a half before making a right turn. The road will take you back behind the town, then out toward the mountains. There’s a driveway off to the right that heads uphill. Take the left fork on that driveway and you’re there.”
“I’m lucky you came along.” More than lucky—profoundly relieved. “Good luck, Paul. And thank you again for the rescue.”
“Glad to help.” He tipped his hat in her direction and went to get his horse. Jenna watched him go. Kids were her soft spot. Especially teenagers. Maybe when she finally got her own dance studio, she’d create some kind of program for kids like Paul, living out in the country with no support for their dreams. They could train with her for the summer and stay with host families. Kind of like foreign exchange students but an exchange from rural to urban.
She looked around at the landscape that in some places looked more like a moonscape. The sun was getting high and a dry heat was building, baking the sagebrush and filling the air with its spicy scent. If this was Paul’s home, then a chilly summer in San Francisco really would be like a stay in a foreign country. And as for her, a city girl, this rocky pasture felt even stranger than that. An alien world, Jenna decided as she got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. And she was ready to get back to nice familiar planet Earth.
She turned the car around and started back on the rutted dirt road she’d somehow thought would lead her to Samantha’s ranch. Knowing now what it could do to her tires, she crept along, heart pounding. Watching Paul had given her some idea of what to do if she had another blowout, but she was already riding on her spare.
Gratefully, Jenna saw the highway getting closer. Motion in her rearview mirror had her glancing back. Paul was riding behind her, a little ways off the track to avoid the dust her wheels kicked up. She smiled. What a good guy—making sure she got back to the main road safely. This was why she loved working with young people. No matter how murky or dismal the future might seem, they always gave her hope.
Meeting an aspiring dancer out here was such an odd coincidence. Jenna remembered the way Paul’s face had lit up when he talked about dance. Maybe she’d ended up in the middle of nowhere for a reason—to encourage him in his dream. If that was the case, then she’d been wrong about the meaning of that exploding smoothie. Maybe today was somehow meant to be.
“WHERE WERE YOU?” Samantha came rushing out of the beautiful log-and-glass house and down the stone steps. “I was thinking about calling the sheriff!”
“Sorry to worry you,” Jenna apologized, getting out of the Mini and giving her friend a huge hug. “I had a small mishap on the way, but everything’s fine.”
Jenna held her friend at arm’s length, admiring her glossy black hair and the way the mountain sun had sprayed tiny freckles across her porcelain skin. Samantha was wearing green to match her eyes—eyes that looked happier and more relaxed than Jenna had ever seen them when her friend had lived in San Francisco. “You look wonderful!” Jenna exclaimed. “Being engaged suits you!”
Samantha laughed and waved her hand with the huge emerald ring on it. “Can you believe it? In three months I’ll be married. Who would have thought?”
“I would.” A deep voice, ringing with its customary humor, had both women turning to where Samantha’s fiancé, Jack, was approaching from the barn, two border collies trotting at his heels.
“Jack!” Jenna smiled in delight.
“Red!” Jack grinned, teasing her with the nickname he’d given her in honor of her hair. It was amazing how fast, how perfectly, Jack had fit in with his fiancée’s best friends. Jack wrapped her in a hug and squeezed her so hard he lifted her off the ground. “Thanks for coming out here and entertaining Sam for a few days. I hope you’re up for a lot of bridal magazines and seating charts.”
Jenna realized she hadn’t thought this through. How was she supposed to muster any enthusiasm for weddings when she’d just been so royally betrayed? She plastered a smile on her face. “I’m not surprised about the charts!” Jenna forced out a playful wink, but it must have come out more like a grimace, because Samantha looked momentarily alarmed. “What else would we expect from Miss Organization?”
Samantha
