Free Winner Takes All by Erin Kern Page B

she jotted down the address of her studio. “If you change your mind, here’s where I am.” She set the information down, knowing he wouldn’t take it if she offered. “I can see the pain on your face, Blake. Pills don’t always cure everything.”
    Without another word, she left his office, hoping somehow she’d gotten through to him.
      
    As Annabelle left the school, she forced her mind away from Blake.
    It was ten-fifteen and she had a ten-thirty appointment with her friend Stella.
    She parked her car along the curb in front of her studio, gathered her bag from the backseat, and went inside the building. She’d just flipped on the lights when Stella breezed through the doors like the breath of fresh air she was.
    And Annabelle could use a breath of fresh air right then.
    “Sorry I’m late,” Stella said on a breathy voice.
    Annabelle glanced at the clock on the wall and lifted a brow. “It’s ten twenty-nine, Stella.” If the woman were abducted by aliens, she’d still find a way to be on time.
    “Obviously your idea of late and my idea of late aren’t the same thing,” Stella replied, then toasted her with the paper cup of coffee she held in one hand. “Love this new thing you’re doing with your hair, by the way. Evidently the new football coach is having a positive influence.”
    Only Stella could get away with such a comment. A year ago, when Annabelle had come back from Denver, she’d signed up for ballet aerobics. The teacher of the class, a tall, willowy classic beauty named Stella Davenport, had bitched at Annabelle to “stop slouching” in that commanding way ballet teachers were so famous for, and they’d been close friends ever since. Probably the closest friend Annabelle had ever had.
    Annabelle fingered the loose curls that she’d actually taken the time to blow-dry. “I had a few extra minutes this morning,” she answered. “And it has nothing to do with a football coach.”
    Lies.
    Stella snorted, then set her purse down on the floor. “Please. The only time a woman takes care in her appearance is if there’s a guy. One of our principal dancers in Chicago used to take her hair out of its bun after every single rehearsal. We all thought it was the strangest thing until we saw the hottie medical resident pick her up for dinner one night.”
    “That doesn’t mean—”
    “And then,” Stella went on, “the mother of one of my students, who always had a god-awful Denver Broncos baseball cap covering her beautiful red hair, started picking her daughter up with her hair all styled and curled. I thought maybe she found her self-worth after losing it for Lord only knows how long, when I remembered the single dad of a different student.”
    Annabelle lifted a brow at her friend.
    “You see?” She took a sip of coffee. “Throw some man candy into the picture and a woman starts doing things she doesn’t normally do.” She pointed an index finger at Annabelle. “Like wearing jewelry.”
    “I’m just worried about the holes in my ears closing,” Annabelle argued as she absently fingered the earring dangling from her lobes. So what if she’d dug them out of her jewelry box after going nearly a year without wearing them?
    Stella giggled. “I know perfectly well what Blake Carpenter looks like. The man’s practically another species. Tell Auntie Stella all about it.”
    Annabelle shrugged and led Stella to the mats on the floor to start her exercises. “There’s nothing to tell.” At least nothing she wanted to share with anyone. Not even Stella. Because Stella wouldn’t rest until Annabelle had acted on her feelings and urges. The woman pretty much wore everything on her sleeve and encouraged everyone around her to do the same.
    Annabelle had lost her ability and desire to live like that after her divorce. Stella knew this and understood where Annabelle was coming from and she knew her friend meant well.
    “Okay, answer me this,” Stella said as she downed the last of