Wow, that’s some legacy.”
Sean peeked to the side, to the brown and gold eyes that dazzled him stupid. “Yeah?” Too bad he wasn’t like them. Too bad he was the black sheep of his family. Like his dad.
The thought gave him pause. Not only had Granddad said his dad was a good guy before he broke, but so had Simon. So… what happened?
“You’re part of that, Sean.” Jamie’s soft voice warmed him as she bumped shoulders with him. “You come from a great line of warriors.”
He folded the letter, thinking back over the story. Everything in him wanted to debate the point, to argue that his family was just messed up, but he was seeing the fruit of the Wolfe legacy. This time, not from a tainted source, not from his mother.
“You’re not unlike Helen Wolfe.”
He arched an eyebrow at Jamie.
“She had tough circumstances. She fought and won a happy life. In doing so, she paved the way for your grandfather—her brother—to have a good life.”
“And how do you figure I’m like that?”
“You’re prepared to do whatever it takes to end the painful side of the legacy that your mom started.”
He clenched his teeth at the mention of his mother. “Even if I could overcome that—I’m broken in other ways, Jamie.”
“We all are.”
“Yeah, how are you broken?”
Jamie ducked her head, cheeks going pink.
“Sorry. Guess that was too personal—or maybe I’m the only one who’s so broke he needs fixing.”
“No.” Jamie touched his arm. “I just… well, honestly, it’s not easy to talk about. God’s been challenging me lately about…”
“Dancing?”
Surely he could see the color from the heat seeping into her face. “Yeah.”
“What are you afraid of?” Whoa, that was weird hearing his voice asking the very question she’d thrown at him.
Jamie scrunched up her shoulders. “I don’t know.” She drove her gaze across the green field, to the street where traffic slithered past. “I guess… maybe that I’m not good enough. That even if I got in, there’s no way I could afford tuition in addition to living expenses. Maybe, when Uncle Alan was still single, he might’ve let me stay with him, but now that he’s married—”
The two lovebirds were almost sickening. “The very reason I moved out of Aunt Mitzi’s place.” Besides, seeing the two of them… it was just hard to watch. Not everyone got lucky in love like that. “That, and I was too afraid to watch the marriage dissolve.”
Jamie’s eyes widened. “Why on earth would you say that?”
He shrugged. “It happens. To a lot of people.”
“And it doesn’t happen to a lot.” Jamie swept her hair back and craned her neck. “Is that why you’re so afraid of… us?”
It felt like he was manning that .50 caliber gun again, the report rattling through his chest. “Just don’t want to hurt you.”
Her expression warmed, eyes softening.
Don’t look at me like that. Sean shifted his gaze back to the letter, tried to push his thoughts from the beautiful woman sitting beside him. The one who turned his brain to mush, the one who made him want to break his no-women rule. Could they make a go of it? He’d managed his anger, his frustration. What about the TBI? He couldn’t imagine Jamie ditching him the way his fiancée had. But… what if she did?
He couldn’t take another rejection. Not from Jamie. The idea smothered him. He sloughed his hands together, mind racing. Thoughts careening through the possibilities. What if—was she—worth the risk?
A burst of nausea swelled up his throat. Breathing grew hard. His vision blurred.
“Sean?”
Warmth on his back. Rubbing. Soothing.
“Sean, are you okay?”
The panic abated, leaving him drained but also acutely aware of Jamie Russo. Her delicate touch against his spine. Her soft voice. Her floral scent. Heat darted through his gut as he pushed his gaze to hers.
“It’s okay,” she said softly with a smile. “You’re okay.”
Beautiful, sweet Jamie. Wavy brown hair, cinnamon-colored eyes. Full, soft lips. What would it be like to kiss her?
“Hi, Jamie.”
At the strange voice, Sean blinked. Hard. A lot. He drew a breath and turned toward the path. A gangly man stalked toward them.
“Martin.” Jamie punched to her feet, as if she felt guilty. Did she? What did she have to feel guilty about? Or was Sean lighting up her personal radar the way she did his?
Ah, Sean thought he recognized him. The guy from Jamie’s studio. The one who’d given a ubiquitous warning about how Jamie needed to be focused, not distracted by a man.
Jealousy coiled around Sean’s chest and tightened as Jamie hugged the goon.
“What are you doing here?”
“Heading to the studio. Hey, listen…” He gave Sean a look. “If I’m interrupting…”
“No,” Jamie said. “What’s up?”
“We could use some help on the last piece. It’s not coming together. Do you have time?”
The test. Would Jamie leave Sean for this guy?
Of course she would. Dance was her life. Sean was a distraction.
“Um”—Jamie’s brown eyes darted to him then back to the goon—“right now?”
This didn’t need to be painful for her. Sean shifted on the bench and reached for her satchel. He glanced down and saw the application, practically begging him to put it to good use. He’d once told her he wouldn’t let her sacrifice her dreams for him. And he meant it.
He stuffed the application in his back pocket and handed the bag to Jamie. “See you later.”