But that said, Shannon was feeling slightly offended. “Traci, you said you liked those black bean burgers I made.”
“That you kind of made,” she corrected. “And, sorry, but I also kind of lied. They were edible, but that’s about it.”
“Here.” Shannon pushed her big bowl of salad across the table toward Traci. “Grab a fork. Eat some veggies.”
Traci grumbled but did just that and joined her at the table. “Where’s Kimber?”
“She’s on the phone in her room.”
“Who with?” Her voice darkened. “Oh, no. Is it her agent?”
“I don’t think it’s Brett. I’m not sure though.” Shannon hoped it wasn’t. Every time Kimber got off the phone with her fancy New York modeling agent, she seemed upset and then didn’t eat for two days.
After taking another bite of lettuce, Traci pulled out her phone and started swiping. “I’m going to get on Door Dash and get something delivered. Do you want anything?”
“I’m okay.”
“I wonder what— Oh, great you’re here,” Traci said smiling at Kimber. “What do you want to eat? Chinese or Thai?”
Kimber popped a hand on one slim hip. “Oh, girl. You and your love of Asian food.”
“I can’t help it.” Giving Shannon a look, she said, “It’s tasty, and good for you, too. So, what do y’all want? My treat.”
“Nothing for me,” Kimber said. “I’m not too hungry.”
“Is everything okay?” Shannon asked.
Kimber shared a smile with Shannon, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Sure.”
Shannon didn’t believe her, but she wasn’t eager to push. They all deserved their privacy.
Traci was obviously not of the same mind. “What Shannon was too polite to ask is, Did that agent of yours make you worry about your looks again?”
“What? No. It wasn’t Brett.”
“Good. I hate when he calls. All he ever does is make you stress.”
“You give him too hard of a time. I’m a model, honey. My career is based on my looks. It’s nothing personal.”
“I guess I don’t understand it then,” Traci retorted. “You’re one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen in person.”
Shannon almost choked on the water she was sipping. “In person? The things you say, Traci.”
“I know. I have no tact. I’m working on it, though.”
Traci’s cheeks were flushed, which Shannon was fairly sure would shock anyone on Traci’s police force. Traci put up such a strong front that not a bit of insecurity ever seemed to seep through.
Kimber sat down. “Just to end all the speculation, I was on the phone with my mom.”
“How did it go?”
“About how it always does,” she replied with a look of regret. “Mom’s hurt that I moved here. She doesn’t understand why I want to know two women who mean practically nothing to me.”
“Ouch,” Traci said.
Kimber continued. “What else? Oh, yeah. She worries that I’m hurting my modeling career by living in the middle of Ohio, which she considers only slightly more sophisticated than, say, Tibet.”
“So, she’s good,” Traci said.
Kimber raised one perfectly arched brow, then started laughing. “Yeah, Trace. Mom is great.” After a pause, she said, “You know what? Order me up some veggie lo mein.”
“Will do.” Traci picked up her phone again. “Shannon?”
Looking at the dregs of the salad in her bowl, she said, “Beef and broccoli, please. With brown rice.”
“On it.”
As Traci started swiping screens on her phone, Kimber walked to the refrigerator, pulled out a sparkling water and joined them at the table. “You want to know the best thing about that conversation?”
Shannon nodded. “Yep.”
“I told Mom that I had to get off the phone because you girls were waiting for me.” Her smile widened. “I love, love, love having sisters.”
“You and me both,” Traci said. “Dinner’s on the way, girls.”
Feeling all the tension dissipate, Shannon sat back against her chair and simply enjoyed the moment. Sure, they had a long way to go before they had the type of relationship she’d dreamed of . . . but even after a couple of months things were good.
She’d take that.
CHAPTER 4
“Life is short and there will always
be dirty dishes, so let’s dance.”
—James Howe
Friday Night
Another week had gone by, and here she was again, waiting for her least favorite client. Did it help that he also paid more for her time than almost anyone else?
No, it did not.
Especially since he was late.
Feeling grumpier than usual, Shannon sat down on the velvet sofa in the lobby. It was a new purchase, paid for by Kimber, who seemed to have an unlimited supply of money to spend on their new building. After putting up a token argument about Kimber not needing to spend her money on Shannon’s studio, she’d given in. Kimber assured her that she had more money from her modeling jobs than she knew what to do with.
Besides, the couch was gorgeous. It was a dark emerald green, and it was all curves and carved wood. Kimber had chuckled when she’d seen it online, saying it looked like something out of the Addams Family.
She hadn’t been wrong.
But even if Shannon hadn’t needed something for her students to sit on before and after class, she would have coveted it. It was that beautiful.
Another five minutes passed . . . making her aggravation spike.
Maybe Dylan was going to blow her off. And wouldn’t that just be something he would do? He was self-centered, and that was a fact.
Still stewing, she decided that she wasn’t going to lie to any of his fantasy-football buddies about tonight’s class—if they just so happened to stop by and ask questions. She was going to make him pay for this wasted hour, too. Just like every other student.
Deciding to wait five more minutes, Shannon kicked off her three-inch heels. Boy, her feet hurt. She’d had a two-hour tap class with her new class of sixteen-year-olds—which wasn’t for sissies.
Though they were all still getting to know each other, she was impressed by some of their skills. The girls were talented and had a ton of energy. They also were absorbing everything she could teach them like sponges. She was pretty sure that before long they were going to be able to dance circles around her.