Mating season. He tried to banish the images the thought inspired, but failed spectacularly.
Chapter Two
Anna arrived back at the studio as her high school class broke up. The girls moved toward the door in a scrum, laughter buzzing over talk of boys and the festival and the imminent start of the school year. Anna had taught most of the girls for years. She’d seen them through their first pimple to their first heartbreak. This time next year, many of the girls would be packing for college or pursuing their dreams as Anna had attempted at eighteen. She wished them better luck.
Keisha patted her face with a small towel, her braids pulled up into a sagging bun on top of her head. The chatter of teenagers faded as they made their way out the door to enjoy the last days of summer.
“Thanks, Keisha.” Anna glanced around. “Where’s Gabby?”
The smile Keisha wore like a favorite T-shirt slipped into a worried line. “A no-show. I texted her, and she said she didn’t feel good, but…”
“But?” Anna prodded.
“She was fine yesterday. The problem is her dad. I don’t think he’s going to let her compete.”
Anna’s stomach swooped. Gabby’s dad was a conservative Christian who had tolerated but never supported his daughter’s love of dance. It had been Gabby’s mother who had loved to watch her daughter on stage. But she was gone now. Passed away over the winter after a two-year battle with breast cancer. Since then, Gabby had seemed to channel her grief into hard work in the studio.
Anna regathered her unruly hair and twisted it off her neck into a clip. “If her dad doesn’t want her competing, there isn’t much I can do.”
“It should be Gabby’s decision, not his. It isn’t fair!” The teenage refrain of the ages rang out and echoed back. “Can’t you go talk to him?”
“I suppose so, but I doubt it will do any good.”
“Thank you, Anna. You’re the best.” Keisha leaned in to give her a hug.
Anna loved dance and loved to watch her pupils improve and get stronger, but this was why she had taken over the dance studio. She wanted to give the girls something she hadn’t had. Encouragement. A place where they could laugh together, work hard, tease one another, but ultimately build one another up, never tear them down.
Anna’s mother was beloved in Highland. She had founded the studio as a single mom with a small business loan. She had pulled out the best from her dancers through an exacting work ethic. “Tough love” more than one person had said with a nostalgia that never failed to make Anna recoil.
Tough love. An apt way to describe their mother-daughter relationship. Her mother’s love had been tempered in fire. Hardened. Unbending.
Anna had worked diligently for her mother’s approval in the dance studio and had excelled. But she’d paid a price. All of her self-esteem had been tied to dance, and when she had failed to make it in New York City, something inside of her cracked. It had taken years to superglue herself back together, stronger than she had been. At least, that’s what she told herself.
When her mother couldn’t physically keep up with the studio and the students, Anna had jumped at the chance for a do-over. She was molding the studio into the space she’d longed for as a young girl, unsure of herself and her place in the world.
Gabby reminded Anna of a younger version of herself, except more talented. Gabby danced with a vulnerability that couldn’t be taught. She was born wanting—or needing?—to communicate through dance. What would happen if her dad silenced her ability? Keisha was right—it wasn’t fair.
Anna retreated to her closet office and called Gabby.
“Hello.” While Gabby was more serious than some of her friends, hearing the flatness of her voice made the seeds of worry Keisha had planted flourish in Anna’s gut.
“Hey, Gabby. It’s Anna Maitland. We missed you today. How are you feeling?”
“Fine. I mean, not great.” A fake-sounding cough echoed in Anna’s ear.
Anna swiveled back and forth in her office chair, not sure what tack to take with the girl. “Have you been to the doctor?”
“It’s nothing serious. Allergies probably.”
“Does that mean you’ll be at the next practice?” At the lengthy silence that followed the question, Anna leaned forward and set her elbows on her knees. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“With my allergies?” Gabby ranked around a seven on the teenage sarcasm scale.
“With your allergies or your … situation.” Anna hoped her directness didn’t blow up in her face.
“Look, I’m not sure about dancing anymore. It’s not proper and stuff.”
“You forget that I know how much you love to dance. I see it every time the music starts. You’re talented. You can win Lass of the Games if you want it enough.” Anna waited.
“Maybe I don’t want it enough. I gotta go. Dad needs me.” Gabby disconnected and Anna was left to wonder if she’d blundered by calling at all. While Anna was generally good at navigating the teenage minefield, Gabby’s problem was more like an atomic bomb with an unseen trip wire.
Thankfully, she had her next classes to distract her. They flew by with the speed of enjoying a task. Finally, she was able to retreat to her small apartment above the studio for a shower, where her mind wandered into the brambles she’d managed to avoid. Mostly.
Iain Connors.
While he wasn’t suave or handsome in a GQ model sense, he was arresting. His features were rugged and made more so by the jagged white scar trailing from his forehead over his left cheek and into his beard. A beard which couldn’t hide the stubborn jut of his chin. Something about him struck her as primitive and elemental. He was intimidating in both stature and demeanor. And ridiculously jacked.
Izzy hadn’t mentioned how inconveniently hot the Highlander was. She had talked about how quiet and shy he was. How competent. A wizard with his hands, Izzy had said. That Iain had sounded perfect. Exactly the sort of man Anna could delegate menial tasks to while she handled organizing the Highland festival.
The Iain who had greeted her didn’t seem quiet or shy. The jury was still out on competent, but he had taken charge of Ozzie with ease.
He’d called her Bo-Peep, but when he’d called to her from the window, her first thought was that she’d stepped into a reverse Rapunzel fantasy. Naked man in a high tower? Yes, please.
She’d tried not to squint to get a better view of his bare chest. Once he’d appeared outside, she’d tried to stop herself from staring at the way his black T-shirt had clung to muscles she was sure hadn’t been covered in her high school biology class, but she’d never possessed the kind of puritanical self-control needed not to look.
Now, to torture herself further, she wondered if he was truly a wizard with his hands. If she continued down this path, she was going to need the shower wand for more than just washing away the day’s sweat.
A plan. That’s what she really needed. Or did she? All she really needed was for Rose and Gareth to keep their errand boy penned with the beasts.
After pulling on a tank top and shorts, she opened her laptop ready to compose the email she’d drafted in her head. Waiting in her in-box was a note from Rose informing her Iain was arriving to take delivery of a sheep and cow Gareth had leased, and reminding her to water her pots of flowers since they would be used on the stage as decoration during the competitions.