Chapter Sixteen
Noelle searched the area backstage for one of her student’s lost ballet slippers. Frantic didn’t even begin to describe her current state. After Wes had left the previous morning, all she wanted was to curl up in bed with the covers over her head and cry the day away. But with a dress rehearsal last night and all the ducks she had to get in a row that morning, she didn’t even have time to think about crying over Wes St. Claire, let alone actually shedding tears.
Well, she’d shed tears. Cried herself to sleep last night, in all honesty. Holly asked what happened when she’d gotten home, but Noelle didn’t have the energy to tell her sister all the details. Going over and over it in her head for hours had exhausted her. She waffled between wanting to forgive him and let it go, to being furious with his need to be in charge of everything. She wasn’t some fragile flower that couldn’t handle the truth. And what was he protecting her from if the deal was such a good idea?
The same thoughts had moved to the front of her mind over and over the past twenty-four hours until she was forced to push them back. She was in charge of a gaggle of leotard-encased children, all hyped up on the excitement of the performance they were putting on that evening. Noelle was aware that Wes would be there to see Annalise dance. She hoped to stay backstage as much as possible, giving her a much higher chance of avoiding him.
“Have you found it yet, Miss Noelle?”
A small hand tapped her leg. She looked down into the eyes of one of her youngest students, the child whose ballet slipper she’d been in search of when her thoughts derailed her from her task.
“Not yet, sweetie, but we will. Tell me again where you were when you were putting them on.” It was uncanny how a child could put one slipper on then somehow lose the other that sat beside her, but she was all too aware of the short attention span of little ones. Keeping them focused in class was a challenge, to say the least. The poor child had run off to play with a friend clad with only one slippered foot, any thoughts of the other one left in her wake.
“Miss Noelle.” Another tiny hand tugged at her other leg. “I don’t think this is right.” She held up a ballet slipper in her hand while staring down at her feet, both of them wrapped in a shoe meant for a left foot.
“Well now, I believe you’re right. We don’t want you having two left feet in our dance tonight now, do we?”
Noelle knelt before the little girl, her joke lost on the young child. She slipped off one shoe and in no time flat, had both girls wearing the correct footwear and skipping along on their merry way.
“How you holding up?”
Noelle pushed to her feet to meet her sister eye to eye. “I’m fine.” She’d been able to give Holly a cliff notes version of what had happened between her and Wes that morning over coffee and a piece of toast—all Noelle had had time for before racing out the door.
“You said that earlier. I don’t believe you.”
Noelle put her hands on her hips and stared her sister down. “This is not the time or place, Holl. I can’t do this right now. The last thing I need is my mind off what’s right in front of me and what’s right in front of me is a mass of children waiting for me to guide them through a public performance.”
“All right. That’s fair. I just wish you could give me more to go on. You and Wes are good together and you know it. This is just a small bump in the road.”
Noelle snorted and moved past her sister. Holly followed as they walked past a group of girls practicing and two young boys going over their lines together for the acting portion of the show. “Good together? Give me a break. We’ve baked and had one night on the town in New York. A strong relationship that does not make.”
“It’s not only that and you know it. You two have a…connection.”
Holly was right, but Noelle wasn’t about to admit as much. Not when her heart was so torn, so full of doubt.
“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! He’s here. I can’t believe it. He’s here!” Franchesca ran up to the two of them, her hands clasped in front of her chest.
Noelle’s heart pounded in her chest. Of course he was here. Wes wouldn’t miss his precious niece’s performance. Although a part of her wished he’d stayed home and wallowed in sorrow like she would rather be doing. She was sure his night of pity wouldn’t involve ice cream and an old movie, but hers would. Man, that sounded appealing.
“Who’s here?” Holly asked.
“Ronald Spellman!”
“The movie director?” Holly and Franchesca moved to stage left where they could peer out from behind the curtain and watch the audience without being seen. It looked as if it would be a full house.
Noelle’s tummy fluttered. Of course, she’d performed for much bigger crowds when she was dancing, but this was different. All her students’ parents and grandparents, not to mention aunts and uncles, would be watching. And yes, much could go wrong when young children performed, but she was in charge. All eyes would be making sure she led them through an hour of great entertainment.
“What’s he doing here?” Holly asked.
Caught up in Franchesca’s excitement, Noelle had forgotten for a moment that they weren’t talking about Wes.
“He’s in town to see about his investment in Marietta. Apparently he thought it would be fun to take in the local show, help support the arts.”
“Which one is he?”
“He’s in the back there, shaking hands with people. I heard he wanted to sneak in under the radar, not take attention away from the kids, but in a town this size, there’s no way.”
Noelle watched as the man signed autographs and smiled with people for photos. He was younger than she’d imagined. Dressed in a hoodie and jeans he didn’t look like a famous filmmaker. He looked like the guy who bagged groceries at the store.
As Holly and Franchesca chatted about a major Hollywood director being in the audience, Noelle’s eyes wandered to the other side of the theater. Like a homing device, her attention zeroed in on the man she couldn’t keep her mind off of and who still had the ability to make her heart race even though he’d broken it the day before.
Wes stood inside the back doorway of the theater, Mike beside him. The two really were quite a sight. Not because they were groomed to perfection, but because they both had a confidence too solid to ignore. Being gorgeous and groomed to perfection wasn’t hurting though either.
Noelle watched him, grateful for a moment to observe without him knowing. Before yesterday, she would’ve all but swooned at the sight of him, but now she questioned her feelings, unsure of how to move forward. Who was she kidding? There was no forward for the two of them. He’d come to visit family, approve of a business deal, the deal was going through, end of story. She was surprised he hadn’t hightailed it back to New York already. Ugh. Right. The Bake-Off. With all the hectic that was her life at the moment, she’d forgotten he still had to finish baking. Would he want her help with the third Bake-Off? Probably not.
“Okay, peeping tom. That’s enough looking for right now.” Holly’s whisper in her ear made her jump.
“Sheesh! Really?” Noelle glared at her sister.
“She’s right,” Franchesca chimed in. “You were definitely peeping. Not that I blame you.”
“I was not peeping.”
“Whatever.” Holly waved a hand. “Why don’t you talk to him? You need to work things out.”
“Work what out?” In the craziness of getting ready for that evening, Noelle had seen Franchesca, of course, but hadn’t had time to fill her in on details.
“She’s mad at Wes,” Holly offered.
“Why?”
“He knew about the deal with Spellman and didn’t tell her.”
“So?”
“I’m right here, you two.” Noelle put her hands on her hips. Dealing with these two was beginning to be more difficult than dealing with her students.
“Okay. Then, you tell her.”
Both women turned to her, awaiting a response.
“I can’t do this now.”
“If he lied to you then kick his butt to the curb,” Franchesca said. “Gorgeous butt or not, trust is key in a relationship.”
“First of all, there’s no relationship.” Noelle put one finger in the air. “Second of all…” another finger went up “…I wouldn’t say he lied exactly…”
“But he kept it from her that he’s part of the Spellman deal,” Holly interrupted.
“Well, he’s not really part of it,” Noelle tried to explain.
“But he did know about it and she feels foolish he didn’t say anything.”
“How dare he make a fool of you!” Franchesca was heating up, which wasn’t good. The last thing Noelle needed was her feisty friend to go stomping down the aisle of the theater and cause a scene in her honor.
“Okay, you two. Hold it.” Noelle put both hands up. She took a deep breath in and let it out. How she was going to get through that evening, she had no clue. But there was a high chance more than one glass of wine would be consumed once the whole thing was over.
She looked at Franchesca. “We have a performance to put on right now, so focus. I will tell you everything later, I promise.”
“Right. Sheesh. Where’s my head?” She turned and ran off before anyone could help answer what was for certain a rhetorical question anyway.
Noelle turned to Holly. “You. I need you to help me with my flock of dancers. And to stop blabbing about me and Wes.”
“I wasn’t blab…”
“Stop. I will talk to you about all of it later as well. But right now, in this moment, I HAVE to make tonight my priority.”
“Got it.” Holly nodded. “Sorry, Sis. I just love you and I want good things for you. And I think Wes is a good thing.”
Everything in Noelle wanted to agree with her sister. Wes was amazing. He’d done so many wonderful things right. Was she overreacting?
Music started and the house lights faded. Now was not the time to question her feelings for Wes St. Claire. He would have to wait.
*
Wes hated waiting.
The theater sat on the corner of Church Avenue directly next to Noelle’s studio. The line of cars outside was down the block, meaning they’d had to wait outside until Wilson could get them to the front door. Annalise ate it up, acting as if she were a movie star waiting to be dropped off at the red carpet by her limo. Which in truth was about how it looked when Wilson helped her from the car.
Then Wes had waited in the back of the theater, watching Ronald Spellman sign autographs and chat with people. Although Wes still thought the deal to be a good one, Spellman’s surprise visit, along with things going so wrong between him and Noelle, meant things weren’t sitting right in Wes’s gut.
Now he waited in his seat for the program to start and for a glimpse of Noelle. Whether to avoid him or because she had so much to do that night, he hadn’t seen her out front at all. She must’ve stayed backstage. He mentally berated himself for his arrogance. Tonight was a big night for her and here he sat, believing she hadn’t been out in the theater before the performance because of him.
Maybe Mike was right. Maybe he was a stoic ass. He didn’t think of himself as coldhearted or unkind, but while thinking about things after his talk with Mike in the home gym, Wes wasn’t above admitting he didn’t like to be wrong. And although he had no intention of controlling the situation with Spellman, he had found himself more curious than he would’ve been if Noelle weren’t involved.
Who was he kidding? He did want control. But controlling situations was what he did best. Hell, he ran the entire St. Claire family estate. And meeting with Spellman was about making sure things were right for Noelle. The woman had him all twisted in knots.
As if on cue, she appeared. Dressed in a pink leotard with a soft skirt the same color tied around her waist, she all but floated across the stage. She led a line of little girls, Annalise included, clad in pink as well with tutus sticking out from their middles. Noelle lined them up in rows before descending the side staircase and taking her place in front of the center of the stage and at the front of the audience area.
Amidst the murmurs of people in the audience as they pointed and waved at their children, the music began and Noelle guided the girls through their steps. All eyes were on the children but Wes’s were glued to Noelle. Her smiled never wavered, a continuous encouragement to the kids who missed steps and at times bumped into each other. But man, they were cute, and their teacher was downright breathtaking. Her hair was twisted up on the top of her head, the bun held together with pink lace. A few tendrils fell on either side of her face, a whisper of color against her fair skin.
He’d had the privilege of feeling that skin against his fingertips as he’d slid them into her hair, her face cupped in his hands. Her lips beneath his were soft and tasted of vanilla with a hint of mint. That night in his penthouse had played over and over in his mind since. Caramel lingered on his taste buds as well from the thought of the second time he’d kissed her, both instances the most heated moments of his life.
“She’s doing great,” Mike whispered to him.
“Yes. She is.”
“I meant my daughter, you lovestruck fool.” Mike’s full-body chuckle jostled their chairs. “Be careful. You might get drool on your shirt.”
The urge to tell his brother to shut up was derailed by their father shushing both of them like they were school kids. Mike went back to filming Annalise’s performance while Wes continued watching Noelle.
He loved her. It was that simple. Well, he wished it were that simple. Admitting it had been less painful than he’d imagined it would be, but now that she hated him, it was a moot point. Or was it? He had the second Bake-Off the next night and he clung to the hope that she’d still help him learn to bake for the third. That would give him a chance to explain to her, help her see that his intentions had centered around wanting good things for her.
What had begun as a silly fundraiser his dad volunteered him for now looked to be his best chance at making things right with Noelle. As the audience applauded and the students bowed, Wes made a mental note to do something he’d never imagined doing—thank his dad for volunteering him to bake.