Page 92 of The Way We Touch

“I find your lack of faith disturbing. I name-dropped Ms Westwood and everything.”

“Ms Westwood is dead. Anybody could walk in and say they knew her.”

“Why would anybody walk in off the street and say they knew her? No one would even think of her unless they were down here with us.”

“Okay, okay.” He holds up his hands. “You’re a genius, and Mia is lucky to have you.”

“I’ve got to get to school.” I take a last bite of hamburger. “Thank you, Thomas!”

He gives me a wave, and I skip out the back door of the kitchen, heading to the house to put on my leotard and tights.

It’s so much warmer here than in New York. As soon as I got home, I dropped my suitcase in the guest room and changed out of my warm clothes. Then I ran down to the restaurant.

“Hello, Miss?”

“Oh!” I squeal, jumping to the side.

“Sorry!” A youngish guy with blond hair and brown eyes holds up his hands. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just visiting. That’s some name.”

He nods at the sign, giving me a sly smile, and my shoulders drop. He looks harmless enough, dressed in starched jeans and a long-sleeve button-up shirt. Who starches their jeans?

“Welcome to Newhope.” I wipe my hand on the back of my denim shorts before reaching out to shake his hand. “A cooter is another name for a turtle. I’m Dylan Bradford.”

“Callum Cross.” He shakes my hand, and that stops me.

I tilt my head to the side. “Have we met? Your name is familiar to me…”

He briefly seems startled, but he covers it fast, which is weird. “I don’t think so. I’m not from around here. I, ah… I heard this place has spicy food?”

“Yeah, we have a spicy special every Thursday night at seven.” I do a little wave. “You could come back then or stop in now. The regular menu is pretty delicious, if a bit tamer.”

He glances down, seeming embarrassed. “I heard they also do Coyote Ugly dancing?”

I hesitate, wondering what he’s after. “Also only on Thursdays.”

“Do you dance?”

“No, it’s just something the staff started doing for fun.”

“Too bad.”

Is he trying to flirt with me? Sorry, Callum. I am so taken, it almost makes me smile.

“Well, I’m late for work. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“You will.”

I take off for the house. I’ve got less than an hour to be at school for ballet class.

The rest of my day goes like the last six weeks—teaching, working with Mia. I do not tell her about what I did in New York. I don’t want her to be nervous or distracted or intimidated the way I would’ve been at her age.

Then after school, I ride my bike home, change into my cutoffs and flip flops again before heading to the restaurant to work. It’s Monday night, which means I’ll be hiding from the game in a few hours.

“Garrett said y’all had a good visit.” Jack hugs me when he arrives with Kimmie Joy holding his hand.

She runs forward, wrapping her arms around my waist and hugging me like I’ve been gone a year. “Uncle Craig made stuffed jalapeños, and it still burned my tongue.”

I squat, making a pout. “Let me see.” She sticks out her little tongue, and I lean in close, pretending to examine it. “I don’t see a blister. I think it’s going to be okay.”