realize that. But no one’s dancing. I don’t know what to do.”
“I do.” He reached for her hand and linked his fingers in hers. “Come on.”
He whirled her onto the dance floor, and she wondered how he’d ever become such a good dancer.
“Ballroom dance lessons in college. Swear to God,” he said. “I had a P.E. requirement to fill, and it fit in my schedule.”
She laughed and wondered how he’d known what she’d been thinking. He did that a lot. Soon enough, a few other couples joined them on the floor, and Jeanne started thinking this might be an annual tradition for Elegant Eats. Probably with her and Brad still single and lonely years from now.
“Mind if I cut in?” Tara O’Hara tapped what had to be a ridiculously overpriced shoe as she smiled at Brad.
Jeanne felt her hold on Brad tighten, but she had no claims on him. She summoned her best sweet attitude and drawled, “No problem, darlin’.”
Then she marched off to the kitchen and straight into the deep freezer so she could scream. Turned out the bitter temperature in there was more effective than a cold shower at chasing away all those hot and nasty thoughts she was having about Brad.
Calmer now, she left the freezer, poured herself some woe-is-me punch and peeked through the window in the kitchen door to see Brad whooping it up on the dance floor with Willowdale’s number one bachelorette.
Down on love, indeed.
She expected him to humor Tara with one dance. But three sappy love songs later, and they were still swaying to the music. Jeanne had a mind to flip on the lights and bring the party to a screeching halt. But when she saw Ned and Pansy dancing, she didn’t have the heart to break up a potential match. It must’ve been a few decades since either one of them had cut the rug.
So she hid in the kitchen and ate the leftover broken-heart cookies. Then finally at midnight, with her feet screaming and her heart aching, she turned off the music.
“Thanks all so much for coming out to our Anti-Valentine’s bash. Looks like ya’ll weren’t so down on love after all.” She flipped on the lights and headed for the kitchen, followed by compliments on the party and promises to come next year.
And when she looked for Brad, he and Tara had their cell phones out, tapping away at their keyboards. Exchanging numbers, no doubt.
Jeanne was halfway done with the dishes when Brad finally wandered in. “Have a good time?” she asked.
He stretched. “It was a hit. We’re a good pair.”
“A good business pair,” she added.
He snatched a broken-heart cookie from the tray. “That’s what I meant.”
“So, Tara O’Hara. That was a surprise. Thought we commoners weren’t good enough for her.” She banged a kettle around in the sink while she nearly scrubbed the enamel off.
“She was having a good time.”
She sure was , Jeanne thought.
Brad scratched his head. “Talks an awful lot. I know about each and every pair of shoes she bought this year, and the dozen purses, because she couldn’t decide on one for her trip to the Riviera. That’s in France, right?”
“Yep. Her mama has an awful lot of money, but no one seems to know why. Guess she had a big insurance policy on Pappy O’Hara.”
Brad would be lucky to hook up with her. He’d never have another financial worry in his life, and that would probably be the end of Elegant Eats, because who’d have time for a catering company with all the trips to Asheville—because Whitesville wouldn’t do—to shop for clothes and shoes for trips overseas?
Jeanne slammed a cupboard shut louder than she had meant to, then rubbed her temples. “I’m calling it a night.”
“Sure thing. I’ll close up.”
She scooted out of the kitchen and berated herself the whole ride home. This was a good thing. She needed Brad to be with someone else. She should be more supportive. And she had to remember, the man was trying to set her up with other guys. No Cosmo quiz would ever declare