“That’s it exactly,” he drawled.
“You’re fun.”
“You’re funner.”
“Aw, now who’s pulling out the fun words?”
He steered to her street, and found a park, reversing into the street parking with ease.
“Want to come up?”
“Is Poppy there?”
“Probably. Does that make it a yay or a nay?”
Maybe this would be a good chance to find out a little more about the business. Bailey’s dad certainly hadn’t appreciated his questions earlier. “Definitely a yay.”
She snickered, and he smiled, racing around the vehicle to get her door. He loved this, this looking after her, helping her out, making her feel special. Well, he hoped she felt special, that the flowers and dates had been something she enjoyed. She’d seemed to, even enjoying meeting Travis and his girlfriend Molly last night at dinner. His best friend on the team had given a huge thumbs-up whenever Bailey was talking with Molly, and he’d loved drawing her into his world.
Upstairs, her space seemed as pretty and dainty as everything else about this woman, and probably made his modern place feel really cold and sterile. There were art posters labelled with Paris and Cologne, photos of Bailey and Poppy in costume, including that dramatic one of Bailey in a white tutu which he’d first been sent by Dance Off in one of their many emails. Trinkets and girly things he’d always rolled his eyes over, but because they belonged to her, he was intrigued.
“I like your space,” he said, looking around. “Suits you to a T.”
“Speaking of, would you like a cup of tea? Or are you more of a coffee man?”
He shot her a look, then she seemed to remember where they’d first bumped into each other. Literally.
“I might not read minds but I can read that face,” Poppy said from the kitchenette. “How do you have it?”
“Strong and black. Thanks, Poppy.”
“I’ll help,” Bailey said.
“No, you sit right there,” Poppy commanded. “I know you’re an English breakfast tea girl on a Sunday afternoon.”
“You are?” Luc asked Bailey. “Why don’t I know this?”
“Because every Sunday afternoon we’ve been slammed for time. Until now.” She sighed, cradling his hand in hers. “Can you believe the final was only a week ago?”
“It seems like another world.” So weird. The intensity of those rehearsals and flights and attention, followed by his return and the rush of media and hockey and training. It was like he’d been sucked into a whirlpool and near drowning, and finally spat out on a beach with gentle waves, and he could breathe. Could see the horizon. Could see a future. Where he and Bailey shared lives, and a house, and a—
Whoa. He wasn’t going there. Not even in his head. Thoughts needed taking captive. Now.
“Here you go.” Poppy deposited a tray with Bailey’s cup of tea and a small French press of dark coffee on the table and a mug that said “Dance is Life!”
“Sure is,” he said, gesturing to it.
Poppy laughed. “Wow, I love how dance can transform people’s lives, don’t you?”
He kissed Bailey’s hand. “I’m a convert.”
“Okay. Well, that sounds like my cue to go and—”
“You don’t have to leave,” he said. “I actually wanted to ask you both some questions about the business.”
“The studio?”
He nodded. “If that’s okay.”
“Sure.” Bailey tucked up her knees on the couch. “What do you want to know?”
He had to tread carefully here. He didn’t want to upset her, or Poppy, or have more of his questions come back to Wayne. “I’m just curious about how two young women managed to fund something like that in the middle of a major city.”
“That’s easy enough,” Poppy said, as Bailey said at the same time, “Sure.”
“You go,” Bailey said.
Poppy waved her off. “It’s your story.”
Bailey shrugged. “Okay. Well, as you might’ve gathered from today, our family had a bit of a tumultuous time. Around the same time that my sister’s husband was arrested for domestic violence, my surviving grandparents both got sick, and both died within the space of two months.”
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured.
“It was a shock. Especially as my mother’s mom had always supported my dancing dream. Gran was the one who encouraged my mom to dance, and she’d given me money to go to Europe to study there.”
“Would that we all had grandmothers who could afford to do that,” Poppy teased.
He pointed at her. “This coming from the woman whose family have their own movie set.”
