Page 9 of Declan
“Grandchildren fromyou,” she countered, laughter in hervoice.
“Let it go, Mona. How long are you going to keep on him about that?” Dan interjected, adding to the easy camaraderie.
“Until he gets married and has some kids,” she sighed, half-chiding, half-hopeful.
Declan shook his head with a fond smile. “I need to head out. I’ll see you later. Bye, Frankie. Dan, see you soon.” Nodding warmly at them, he walked out toward his truck.
Despite his sister’s gentle reminders about marriage still echoing in his mind, Declan found himself thinking about Elise Ramsey. It had been quite a while since a woman intrigued him the way she did, and he wouldn’t mind getting to know her better. His sister was correct about one thing; Elise Ramsey was undeniably a beautiful woman.
****
A week later, Elise opened the studio and smiled, greeting each child as they arrived, often accompanied by either their mother or father, who was responsible for dropping them off. Among the cluster of families, one man stood out, his gaze lingering on Elise with a curious intensity. He was handsome, with sharp features and a confident stance, but he was no Declan Cavanaugh, Elise noted silently.
“Hello, I’m Stephen Johnston, and this is my daughter, Jenny. She’s five,” he introduced, extending a firm hand toward Elise. His voice was smooth, carrying a hint of charm that matched his appearance.
Elise accepted his handshake with a friendly nod. “Elise Ramsey. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Johnston.”
“Stephen, please,” he corrected with a gentle smile that softened his expression.
“Alright, Stephen. Will you be the one bringing Jenny to and from her classes?” Elise inquired, noting the small, shy figure ofJenny standing beside him.
“I’ll be bringing her at eleven, but her grandmother will be picking her up at noon,” he confirmed, a shadow briefly crossing his face. “Her mother passed away three years ago, so it’s just us… for now.”
Elise’s heart went out to them. “I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been incredibly difficult for Jenny to lose her mother at such a young age.”
“Yes, but she doesn’t remember her mother,” Stephen admitted. “But I’m getting better, day by day.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Elise replied sincerely, offering a comforting smile. “Oh, is her grandmother’s name down as a person she can leave with?”
“Yes, she is.” Stephen glanced at his watch, a subtle reminder of the time. “Well, I’m off to work. Jenny? Sweetheart, I’ll see you later. Be good and have fun,” he instructed, his tone affectionate yet firm.
“Okay. Bye, Daddy,” Jenny replied, her voice small but cheerful as she clutched Elise’s hand. With that, Elise gently guided her toward the room where the other children were eagerly gathering for ballet, their excited chatter filling the hallway like a melody of anticipation.
At noon, she was already exhausted. Who knew there would be so many little girls who wanted to learn ballet? It was hard keeping up and she knew she couldn’t take on any more students. She didn’t want to hire more people, so taking on more students was a no for now, but she put names on a waiting list. She’d see how it went and maybe next spring, she’d be able to take on more.
She stood in the lobby waiting for parents to pick up their kids, then she planned to head upstairs and get a hot bath and try to relax.
“Oh, Elise, I forgot to tell you, but Frankie’s uncle is pickingher up again.” Erica smiled.
Elise’s heart slammed against her ribs. She hadn’t seen Declan since last week and she wanted to make sure she hadn’t imagined how hot he was. She bit back a smile. She knew he was hot, no doubt there.
She looked toward the door when it opened and the chime sounded as someone entered, and saw Stephen Johnston.
“Erica? Could you get Jenny? Her father is here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Erica left the lobby to head for the ballet room.
“Hello, Mr. Johnston. I thought Jenny’s grandmother was picking her up today,” Elise said, her voice a gentle murmur above the soft groan of the studio’s aged pine floorboards. Late afternoon light streamed through the tall windows, pooling on the worn wood and tracing the outlines of tiny backpacks standing in neat rows against the far wall.
He stepped all the way inside, his polished shoes clicking once before settling on the planks. He was tall, though not as tall as Declan.Stop comparing them!His light-brown hair swept back from his forehead, and a faint shadow of stubble covered his jaw. His blue eyes shone with easy warmth, and his navy suit jacket hung open to reveal a crisp white dress shirt, the collar unbuttoned at the throat.
“Elise,” he said, his voice as smooth as polished bronze. “Jenny’s grandmother wasn’t feeling well, and I’ve asked you to call me Stephen.”
She smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes, you did. I apologize, Stephen. I hope her grandmother is alright.”
“Just a cold and she didn’t want to give it to Jenny.” He smiled.
“May I ask what you do for a living?” She gave him a brief, appreciative glance, his long limbs, the effortless confidence inhis posture, though in her mind Declan Cavanaugh still reigned supreme. She mentally shook her head.
