Page 3 of The Second Dance
She catches sight of me, turning those magnetic brown eyes on me, and reels me in.
She holds out her hand. “I’m Heather. And you must be Andy?”
I nod, putting my hand in hers. She’s got one of those faces that instantly pulls you in and makes you feel like you’ve known her your whole life. She wraps her cool fingers around mine and guides me to the stool next to her.
She waves her long fingers at the bartender, a young guy with wavy blonde hair. “Two millionaires for Andy and me.”
She glances at me, winking, like we’re in on the same joke.
I feel a little off kilter. She knows I’m after her money then.
Crap.
The bartender delivers twolargechocolate martinis, gaze lingering on Heather, before moving away. She’s oblivious to the attention she’s getting. She tilts her head, studying my face. “You are just the prettiest thing.”
I’ve never liked when people comment on my looks. It always feels like they’re only supplying half of the sentence.
You’re pretty, but you’re chubby.
She sips her drink. “I love your outfit. What is this style?”
I look down at my thick cardigan and pleated skirt. “Granny chic.”
Heather laughs. “Is that a thing?”
I grin despite myself. “Yes, actually. It’s called cottagecore.”
She nods, smiling ear to ear. “You’re doing grandma chic and I’m doing early pre-menopausal chic.”
I sip my martini, avoiding the cookie straw. “I spend way too much time deep-diving fashion trends.”
“Is this your favorite?”
I shake my head. “No. I usually do fairycore.” I grin at her expression. “Think ultra girly. Silk and tulle. Puffy sleeves. Crocheted stuff.”
“Can you show me?”
“Sure.” I pull out my phone and show her some pictures from the music festival my friends and I went to over the summer.
“I love that.” She says. “I need to go shopping. Apparently, I’m going to have to start upping my efforts. Maybe I’ll drag you with me.”
She’s smiling, but there’s a tightness around her eyes. I don’t know much about her, but Ed gave me the gist. Recently divorced. New to the city. Blew in like a hayseed from a small town.
Not just any small town—the one I grew up in.
That’s why Ed is trusting me with a big fish like this when normally, he barely allows me to use the stapler. But he thinks I’ll have an in with this Silver Bend expat.
I could tell you every last fact about the kids who were in my class. Where they sat during lunch. Who dated who. But as for my dad’s generation? I tune him out when he talks about them. I’m seriously regretting that as I struggle to place Heather. She’s noticeable. Beautiful. Surely, I would have seen her around. She’s a Thomas. Maybe a cousin to someone?
Heather takes another sip of her martini. “So, why songbirds, Andy? Did you study ornithology?”
“No, not at all. I was a journalism major.” I let my finger draw along the stem of my drink. “I kind of lucked into the job, to be honest. My grandma was an avid birdwatcher, though. She passed that love onto my mom and me. Working for the Songbird Foundation feels like I’m carrying on her legacy.”
Heather nods. “It must help you feel close to her.”
“It really does.” I glance at her. “I should ask you the same question. What drew you to the Songbird Foundation?”
“I’ve always been a bird watcher, too. I don’t know their names or anything, but I’ve always loved watching them. They’re so… free.”