There it was again. A Shannon mention. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he decided that it was a sign that he was supposed to find out.
CHAPTER 12
“Any kind of dancing is better than
no dancing at all.”
—Lynda Barr
The snow just kept coming. Standing at the bank of windows at the front of the studio, Shannon watched some kind of foreign sedan spin its wheels on the street in front of her building. The intersection that the car was attempting to climb was tricky on the best of days, since part of it was on a steep hill. No one in a rear-wheel-drive car had any chance of climbing it in weather like this.
The guy should have been driving a good old Chevy.
Kimber, who had been doing some yoga in one of Shannon’s empty classrooms, walked in beside her. “What’s got your panties in such a knot?”
“I’ve been watching this guy in that foreign job spinning its wheels and causing a mess.”
Kimber turned to watch. “That would be a sixty-thousand-dollar Mercedes, Miss Hick.”
Shannon shrugged. “Whatever. All I know is that it keeps sliding down the hill like it’s on Snowshoe Mountain.”
“Uh, Snowshoe?”
“That’s a ski resort in West Virginia.”
“And, you’ve been there?”
“Sure. Everyone back home goes.” Ignoring Kimber’s amused stare Shannon continued to watch the Mercedes’s efforts. Another minute later, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. It’s finally attempting to go into that parking lot on the right.”
“About time, too. He’s about to cause a bunch of accidents,” Kimber said. “You know what? I would say that the cops need to come out to direct traffic, but that might mean Traci the new girl.”
Shannon gulped. “I had forgotten that Traci’s probably directing traffic out there. I always just imagine her investigating burglaries or something.”
Pulling over two stools, Kimber hopped on one. “Come on, let’s sit down while we watch the show.” After Shannon hiked herself up—it really wasn’t fair that Kimber was so much taller than she was—Kimber smiled at her. “So, you reckon that our Traci’s out catching burglars, huh? Are you worried about the Bridgeport crime rate?”
“No. I mean, not really, Miss New York City. I just worry about Traci.”
“Even though I sounded snobby, I promise I was only teasing a little bit. To be honest, I never thought about Bridgeport being anything but a quiet little town.”
“I’m sure it’s real quiet compared to New York City.”
“Yes, but it’s not in my nature to worry too much. I guess I just always assume I’m going to be safe.”
That was kind of a surprise, given what Shannon knew about Kimber’s childhood. It was good enough, but she’d had her share of doubts and worries. Then there was the fact that Kimber was drop-dead gorgeous and often traveled to big cities all by herself. Shannon knew that she would be scared to death boarding a plane in New York City to Rome or Paris or wherever and then getting off and finding her way to her hotel.
“What are you thinking about now?”
“Oh, just that I’m such a small-town girl compared to you. I’m suspicious of foreign cars and I think Snowshoe is a fancy ski resort, while you’re used to traveling all around the world by yourself.”
“I was surprised you knew how to ski, Shannon. That’s where my look came from. I sure don’t know how. And I don’t think you’re all that much of a hick. I mean, you did all those dance competitions. I know you traveled for those.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t going to foreign countries. Mainly just places like Atlanta. Then, too, I was always with my mom or my dad and my teacher and friends.” Thinking about how oblivious she’d been to anything outside of her dances and her friends, she shook her head. “I was a pretty self-centered girl. I never thought much about anything ever going wrong.” Or how much her mother had given up in order for Shannon’s dreams to become a reality.
“That’s a good thing, girl.”
She shrugged. “Do you ever think of Traci? She doesn’t talk about much, but everything about her childhood sounds so tough. I feel guilty, and I didn’t even know about it.”
Kimber frowned slightly. “I feel guilty, too.” She crossed her legs, somehow looking elegant while perched on an old wooden stool. “But that’s how it goes, right?”
“What does?”
“Well, we’re sitting here feeling bad and guilty that she had a crappy childhood, even though we had nothing to do with it. Her parents, on the other hand, have probably never given her a second’s thought.”
Kimber didn’t lie. Shannon rarely thought about their birth mother now. Beyond thinking that she missed out getting to know them, she tried not to think about her. It hurt too much. “I’m never going to be like our mother.”
Kimber chuckled. “Of course you aren’t. Our mother had all three of us before she was twenty-six. You’re doing your own thing now.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure. Oh! Look at that. Now we’ve got ourselves a police officer to watch.” She whistled low. “And he looks fine even bundled up like that.”
Shannon turned to watch the cop in jeans, boots, and a thick police uniform jacket and hat. He was motioning a pair of cars to go up the hill. Then she realized that fine man was someone she knew. “That’s Dylan.”
Kimber’s smile widened. “Your studly student?”
“Stop.” She felt her cheeks redden. “Oh my gosh, Kimber, you have the stupidest expressions,” she said, hoping that her comment might take some of the focus off of her embarrassment.
But from the way Kimber was still grinning, it was evident that her sister wasn’t missing a single thing. “All to make you smile, sweetheart.”
“Mission accomplished, then.” Shannon smiled at her, then settled back in to watch Dylan direct traffic. She couldn’t help but admire him. Oh, not because of his looks, but because of the way he seemed to command every driver’s respect. And, well, he simply looked so assured. None of the drivers looked like they were even thinking about hesitating when Dylan told them to either stop or continue on.
Watching Dylan made her realize that she really hadn’t given enough thought to all of him. He wasn’t just a handsome guy who lost a bet in his fantasy football league and had a great smile. No, he was so much more—a police officer who constantly put his life on the line for other people.