Stella would guess that “shooting and stuff” was the male species way of bonding, which she didn’t get.
“What kind of stuff do you shoot?”
“Just old bottles,” Matt answered. “Cameron collects them for us to shoot.”
Stella shook her head. “No offense, but blowing up bottles doesn’t sound like fun.”
Matt’s serious expression turned playful. “Have you ever shot a gun?”
Hell no. “Sure,” she lied. No reason to sound like a square. But Gloria had despised guns and everything they stood for.
No good ever comes from a gun, she always said.
Personally, Stella didn’t see anything wrong with owning one as long as a person didn’t have ill intent.
One of Matt’s dark brows arched. “Really? Because you don’t really seem the type.”
Stella jabbed a hand on her hip. “Hey, don’t let the ballet shoes fool you. I’m tougher than I look.”
The kid held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not trying to say you can’t handle your own. I just can’t picture you holding a rifle.”
She led Matt to the middle of the floor and placed him in front of the mirrors. “As long as you don’t shoot Bambi, we’re cool.”
Matt looked at her in the reflection. “We occasionally go after opossums, but we’ve never actually hit anything.”
Stella grinned. “Is that your way of saying you’re all lousy shots?”
“We’re actually pretty good. But the opossums are better.”
“Spread your legs and turn your feet out,” she instructed. “And why opossums?”
Matt assumed the position. “Dad hates them. They sneak into our backyard and terrorize Duke. Then they dig holes under our fence and Mrs. McAllister blames Duke for it and threatens to call animal control.”
“Lower into a squat, straighten, then lift to your toes,” she told him, watching to make sure he was executing the move correctly. “How does Mrs. McAllister not know it’s the opossums?” Matt’s balance wobbled when he lifted to his toes. “Tighten your core,” she told him.
“My dad thinks she knows,” he answered. “She just likes to stir trouble. He’s been tempted to leave a dead one on her back patio, but he doesn’t want to give her a heart attack.”
Plus the fact that Brandon would never do anything like that, especially to an old woman. Even if that old woman was meddlesome and constantly snapping half-naked pictures of him. Not that she’d ever sneak a peek of one occasionally. On Annabelle’s phone, of course.
Or your own phone. At night, when no one is around to catch your peeping ass.
Okay, whatever. So she’d seen the pictures. So she’d lingered longer over them than she should have. So she’d drooled a little. At least she wasn’t looking at them at night anymore. Not after the first time when she’d gone on to have dreams about the guy all night.
Do not start fantasizing about Brandon in front of his kid.
Seriously, draw a line somewhere.
Except her imagination had no line because she was sick and twisted and sexually deprived.
“Do two more of those, then we’re done,” she told him while he moved into the next rep.
He lowered after his last rep and wiggled his legs. “No wonder you’re in wicked shape,” he told her.
Stella smiled. “Most people don’t realize how exhausting ballet can be. You’ll develop muscles in places you didn’t realize you had muscles.” She patted him on the shoulder. “But congratulations. You survived your first ballet lesson.”
His mouth quirked. “Yeah, just don’t tell anyone. Better to have them believe it’s my natural talent, and not from doing…What were those called again?”
“Plié and relevé,” she answered. “Great for calves and thighs. Next week we’ll work on pirouettes.”
The suspicious look on his face almost had her laughing. “What’s that?”
“It’s where you spin around on one foot. Preferably your toes.” When Matt’s mouth fell open and red highlighted his cheeks, Stella giggled and placed a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m kidding,” she soothed. “Don’t worry, we’ll wait until you’ve been doing this for at least three weeks.”
“Um…thanks?” he replied.
“You need to loosen up, Matt,” Stella laughed.
Matt swiped his phone off the floor, where he’d set it next to the mirror. After touching the screen a few times, he pocketed the thing and glanced at Stella. “I’ve got to go meet Adrienne now. Thanks again, Miss Davenport.”
“Anytime, Matt. And tell your girlfriend hello for me.”
And then he was gone, sauntering out the door with the same loose-limbed confidence Brandon always had. It probably came naturally to them. Good genes, or something. Either way, there was something about how the two of them moved that could melt concrete. One of the first things Stella had noticed about Brandon was how he carried himself.
Confidence.
One of her biggest weaknesses. And that man had it all over his six-foot-one—or however tall he was—leanly muscled, powerful body.
Yeah, there was all kinds of power in those lean hips. The kind that could pin a woman to a mattress as easily as it could lead her across the dance floor. Stella was a sucker for both, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d allow herself to succumb to that temptation.
Been there, done that. She couldn’t go there again.
Too bad you can’t seem to stay away from him. Stella moved to the stereo and was just about to flick the music back on when a deep voice, one from her darkest dreams, cut her short.
“Where’d Matt go?”
She spun around and clapped gazes with Brandon, automatically moving her attention to his black Bobcats T-shirt and how the thing hung loose over his narrow waist. Maybe if he were to twist to the side, just a bit, she’d get a glimpse of some hard muscle.
Just a little movement.
Maybe she’d “accidentally” drop something and ask him to pick it up.
No, that’s something Mom would do, and you’re not that desperate.
Except sometimes she was.
Sometimes she forgot how it felt to be in a man’s arms. To feel his steady heartbeat beneath her cheek. How comforting and safe a set of strong arms could feel wrapped around her much more petite frame.
When was the last time a man had held her like that?
Obviously too long if she couldn’t even remember what it felt like.
“He went to meet his girlfriend for coffee,” she told him after shutting her thoughts off.
He stepped farther into the room, car keys dangling loose from his fingers. “He went to meet Adrienne?”
“Yeah. He didn’t tell you?”
Brandon shook his head as he stopped in front of her. “No, because he knew what I would say.”
“Being sneaky, is he?”
“Like he thinks I was born yesterday,” Brandon said. “Like I didn’t pull the same shit when I was his age.”
Stella arched a brow. “I find it hard to believe that you weren’t a perfect angel.”
His mouth curled into a grin so delicious that her stomach actually quivered. “Believe it. I was far from perfect.”
She tilted her head. “So why are you surprised by Matt’s actions?”
“Because it’s different when it’s your own kid.”