“You did this yourself?” There was no hiding the admiration in her voice.
“Oh, yeah. All of it. Body work. Rebuilt the engine. Paint job. You name it, I did it.” When Harry glanced up, he found Willow staring and it clearly caught him off guard. He blinked, then cocked his head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m trying to decide if you’re more full of surprises or talent.” Willow grinned. “Or if it’s because you’re so talented that you keep surprising me.”
“My brothers would say I’m full of bullshit.”
She giggled, trying to make sense of a man who ran his own business and still found time to run on the beach and restore old cars into works of art. A man who managed to make her feel like everything was perfect in her world just by standing near her. A man who had walked over to the passenger side of the car to open the door for her.
“You sure you’re okay with the top down?” Harry asked. “Your hair looks so nice…”
“I’ll fix my hair if I have to. There’s no way I’m turning down the chance to ride in a vintage…” She bit her lip as she lowered herself into the passenger seat. “What kind of car is this?”
“Sixty-nine Pontiac GTO.” Harry couldn’t hide the pride in his voice.
“Well, there’s no way I’m turning down a chance to ride in a vintage GTO with the top down. What kind of girl would choose hair over a convertible?”
Harry shrugged as he crossed in front of the car. “You’d be surprised.” He folded his long frame into the driver’s seat and brought the engine to life. After giving the dash a little pat, he pulled out of the driveway.
With the sun gleaming overhead, the smell of salt from the ocean glittering to her right, and Harry chattering away beside her—his voice so warm and comforting, it made her feel like she’d come home—Willow relaxed.
Her shoulders dropped away from her ears.
Her breaths deepened.
She hadn’t realized how much tension she’d been holding until it finally evaporated. The change surprised her. What else was she hiding from herself?
Harry turned onto a quaint street with a row of shops and restaurants and found a place to park. A handful of people wandered the sidewalk. Hand-painted signs perched in windows and chalkboard signs sat outside each store. Palm trees bent in the light breeze and the sun hit the street as if to say the universe agreed with whoever gave the town its name.
Harry threw an arm over the back of Willow’s seat. “Welcome to downtown Bliss.”
“It’s so cute.”
“It’s not New York, if that’s what you mean.” He hopped out of the car and closed the door almost reverently. It wasn’t lost on her how well he fit in with his surroundings, classic, calm, and damn near perfect. “Now. What the hell goes into a morning sickness cure basket?”
Willow laughed. “One of my friends really suffered from morning sickness last year and another dancer made her this basket filled with crackers and sour candies and Gatorade and Pedialyte and acupressure wrist bands. All that stuff is supposed to help with the nausea.” She shrugged. “We don’t have to spend the day shopping, if you have something else you’d like to do.”
Harry put his hand on her lower back, and it took every ounce of self-control she had to keep from leaping into his arms and kissing her way down his neck. It’d have been hilarious if it wasn’t such a real possibility.
“Honestly,” he said, clearly oblivious to her struggle, “I think it’s a great idea, especially if it brings Ellie some relief. I’ll lead you to the stores and you pick up what you need.”
As they wandered through the shops, Willow grabbed anything she found that might help Ellie. They talked about their jobs. Their families. They made bad jokes about the stuff they found on the shelves and totally cracked each other up.
“Did you say it was a dancer who had the morning sickness?” Harry asked as they left their fifth store in search of the acupressure wrist bands.
Willow nodded as she tried to get in the frame of mind of a Bliss native. Surely one of the shops would have the bands, she just needed to think hard enough to find where they were hidden.
“That really surprises me. I guess I thought having kids was off limits for ballerinas.”
She put a hand on her rumbling stomach as he led her to the crosswalk. “It’s getting more and more common. Now that we understand diet and nutrition so much better, lots of female dancers are having babies and coming back to work.”
Of course, not all of those who tried it were able to pull it off, but she didn’t feel like going into that.
In fact, she didn’t feel like talking about dancing at all.
She felt like talking about Harry.
They found the wristbands at the last store and Willow turned the focus to him as she paid. “So, explain this to me. How in the world does a guy manage to find the time to go to culinary school, open a business, work out, and still know how to fully restore a car?”
“I’m driven and disciplined.” Harry laughed as he ran a hand up the back of his neck. “Or, obsessive and slightly crazy. Depends on the day and who you’re talking to, I guess.”
“Makes total sense to me. I was lucky to grow up surrounded by other dancers. My obsession looks normal to them.”
Damn it! There she was, right back on the subject of ballet. Didn’t she have any other topics in her arsenal?
After a quick scan of possible subjects of conversation, she found the majority of them tied right back to her job. When had she become so one-dimensional?
Maybe you’ve always been this way, whispered a voice in the back of her mind.
She didn’t like that thought. Surely there was more to her than ballet. She
