Evolving Dreams (New Beginnings Series) (2 page)

“Um, wine I guess.”

Trace looked a little uncomfortable. “They don’t really have a wine list here. Nothing too fancy.”

“That’s okay. Whatever red wine they have. Surely there’s a house red. I’m not too picky.”

He seemed surprised. “Oh. Okay.”

Sean moved off towards the bar near a group of women on the other side of the room. There was an uncomfortable silence in which no one seemed to know what to say. Meg smiled weakly at the group. “I hope we didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Oh no!” said Charley. “We were just having a beer and keeping McKenna
company while he waited to meet you and Sean. So you’re a dancer, huh?” He was an open-faced, wholesome redhead with a ready smile.

She was a little surprised at how shaggy they all looked—no military buzz cuts. Then she
remember Sean had mentioned that they had to blend in with the locals when they were called out for deployment.

“Yes, I
am
a dancer.” She looked over at Trace. So this was the heroic Navy SEAL. She’d heard a lot about him from Sean’s family and had built him up as this great mythical creature in her mind. He wasn’t exactly what she had expected. Not even six feet tall, but solidly built. He was obviously conditioned and she could tell he worked hard to keep himself that way. He had sandy hair with a slight wave to it, and ocean-gray eyes—blues, grays and greens all swirled together. She jumped when she realized he noticed her studying him.

“I’d just like to thank you for letting us stay at your house while we’re here. I know it’s asking a lot. I’ll try to stay out of your way, but feel free to let me know if I overstep. You have no idea what a luxury it will be for me to be able to stay in a real house for a few weeks. I get so sick of hotels.” She was babbling again and mentally told herself to shut up.

“You’re welcome. It’ll be nice to have Sean around for a while. And it’s good to finally get to know you. The family talks about you a lot. It’s like having another member of the family I’ve never met.” He seemed a little stiff and kept looking at her like she was some kind of a freak.

Meg looked over her shoulder at the bar to find Sean. He had his drink and her wine glass in his hands but was immersed in conversation with that group of women. She sighed. Well, she may never get that wine. After a few seconds the silence got to her again. She looked around the table at the guys and they were all studying her like she was some interesting specimen under a microscope.

“So are you all SEALs?” she asked.

“Yeah, we’re on the same team,” said Charley.

She nodded. Silence again. This was exhausting.

“Can I ask you a question?” Charley said.

She was so relieved someone else was advancing the conversation she would have answered almost any question. “Sure.”

“Do you want me to go over and knock some sense into Sean’s head?”

“What?!”

“Well, most women would do it themselves if their guy was flirting with a group of women in a bar right in front of them.”

“Charley! Shut up!” said Trace and he punched him in the shoulder.

Meg burst out laughing. “He’s not
my
guy. Thank God!”

“Oh.” Poor Charley looked stunned. “I guess I just assumed—the two of you being partners and all.”

“No. We’ve never been involved other than professionally and creatively. We met in college—both majoring in dance—and we’ve been partners ever since. From the beginning we’ve known each too well to get involved romantically. It seems like Sean finds a new true love everywhere we go. I don’t know where he finds the energy,” she smiled.

“That doesn’t bother you?” Trace asked.

“As long as it doesn’t affect our performances it doesn’t. So far so good.”

Sean finally wandered over with her wine and she sat back and listened to him catch up with Trace. Before long Sonny and Charley stood up to leave.

“So, McKenna, your turn to host Monday night football at your place tomorrow night.” Charley said.

“Well, maybe we can do it at your place.” Trace glanced over at her.

“No! Please don’t move it on my account. We’ll stay out of your way.”

“It’s not that. We just won’t want to disturb you. We can get kind of loud.”

“Please don’t cancel it. I’ll feel terrible.”

“Well, okay. If you’re sure.” Trace looked like he’d prefer to meet his friends over at Charley’s, but this was her chance to prove she wouldn’t get in his way. It was also her first chance in a long time to experience a real normal Monday night in a real normal home just like millions of other Americans.

CHAPTER TWO

Trace pulled into his driveway under the carport. Sean parked his rental in behind his Jeep and Meg pulled in beside Sean. He was surprised to see they both had rented cars. Sean explained that they liked to be able to go their separate ways sometimes, especially on long engagements in one location.

Trace walked back to Meg’s car to help with her luggage. When she stepped out of the car she stopped, closed her eyes and breathed in deep. “Wow! Smell that sea air. You have a cottage right on the beach?” She looked enchanted.

Trace smiled a little. “You make it sound magical. It’s a very small house that I had to put a lot of work into when I first bought it. But it
is
on the beach and that
is
the best feature. Come on in.”

It didn’t take long for him to give the grand tour. The front door opened into the living room, which included a dining area, separated from a small kitchen by a tiny bar. There were sliding doors at the back of the dining area leading to a little deck, which led to the beach. An archway between the living room and dining area opened into a short hallway. To the right, at the front of the house, was a very small guest bedroom big enough for a day bed, small dresser, desk and a chair. Trace dropped Meg’s luggage off between the bed and the closet door of that room. They continued down the hall to the left past a tiny bathroom and on to Trace’s larger master bedroom. When he bought the house he had the back wall on the beach side taken out and moved back to enlarge the bedroom and make room to put a master bath in. It had cost him about a third of the back deck, but it was worth it to him to be able to spread out a little.

“I hope the guest room is not too crowded for you,” he said to Meg as they came back down the hall toward the living room.

“Oh, no. It’s cozy . . . and again, thank you so much for your hospitality.”

“Sean, you’re on the couch. Hope you don’t mind.”

“At least it’s a big comfy couch. Thanks! I can crash almost anywhere,” Sean replied as he threw himself onto the sofa.

“Well . . . you’ve seen it all. Help yourself to whatever you need and if you can’t find something just feel free to dig around. There aren’t many places to hide things in this house.”

Meg was feeling the jet lag. They had just wrapped up a three-month tour a couple of days before and she was looking forward to staying put in one location for a while. “I think I’ll get settled in, wash up and go to bed. Good night.”

“Good night,” both Trace and Sean chimed in.

CHAPTER THREE

Meg stepped out onto the
deck and stealthily slid the patio door closed. After she sat on the steps and tied her running shoes she headed south down the beach on a morning run. Not too fast, she thought. Not used to running on sand, she didn’t want to turn an ankle. Meg was looking forward to this gig at the San Diego Dance Institute. For six weeks she and Sean would be teaching workshops and coordinating a showcase. They would be the featured dancers but would also be organizing the Institute’s advanced students to participate too. It was a great opportunity in more ways than one. Not only professionally, but finally she had a chance to settle down for a while—even if it was only temporarily.

Meg had been a gypsy for years. She’d dreamed of being a professional dancer since she was twelve years old. That was when her teachers first recognized how much talent was wrapped up in her tiny body. All through high school she periodically missed weeks of school at a time as she auditioned and toured in various shows.

She ended up graduating from high school through a home school program and earned a scholarship to the dance program at NYU’s Tisch School for the Arts. That’s where she met Sean Morgan.

From the start they just clicked. Both contemporary dancers, they had a deep love and respect for all forms of dance and loved to incorporate bits and pieces of them all in their choreography and freestyle pieces. While most of their peers were devoted to their various disciplines with no interest in broadening their horizons, Meg and Sean thrived on doing just that. They partnered up almost immediately and never looked back. Their style was unconventional and eclectic, but fun—both for them and their audiences. The duo started touring and performing together in college and had never stopped. They had developed a reputation as a highly sought after choreography team as well.

In the past few years their schedule had picked up to a neck-breaking speed. This was the first time Meg could remember that she would spend six weeks in one place. She had been craving that for some time now, so when Sean approached her with this offer, she jumped at the chance. He had an old friend at the SDDI who had contacted him but he wasn’t as keen on the idea as she was. She had finally persuaded him to take the gig. So here she was. She planned to enjoy every minute of it.

When Claire, Sean and Trace’s mom, had suggested they stay with Trace—if he were going to be in town—or at least at his house—if he were deployed—Meg thought that would be too good to be true. But it had all worked out, so she was in heaven. Then she saw the cute little cottage on the beach and she had to pinch herself. She was going to be the best houseguest ever so Trace wouldn’t regret opening his home to her and Sean.

Meg turned around to head north back up toward Trace’s house. It was still really early. She had passed only one man out walking with his dog. The dog was mostly chasing seagulls, though, instead of walking.

As she jogged along she reflected on Trace. He was pretty much what she expected—strong, quiet, brave, good looking. And he was more than she expected. She felt a connection—an attraction. He made her nervous in a way she couldn’t remember feeling since her last crush in high school. But how could that be? She’d barely spent any time with him. It must have been the jet lag. Maybe it was because she had heard so much about him from his family. Sean, Claire and Michael had told so many Trace
stories, of course she thought she knew him. She looked up and her heart stuttered. There he was, sitting on the deck steps drinking his morning coffee.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Trace had woken with a start early that morning. After a few seconds he realized he’d heard the patio door slide shut. It was very quiet, but his senses were finely honed. He could drop off to sleep quickly but it didn’t take much to snap him fully awake. He had glanced out the windows that made up the whole back wall of his room and saw Meg take off running down the beach. It was still the soft light of daybreak and he was surprised to see her up. But then everything about her surprised him.

He had known a lot of dancers in his life. The son of a dance teacher would be accustomed to having them around. He had dated several of his mother’s students that he met around the studio while working as a handyman there in high school. It had never seemed to turn out well. Some were cool, but the most talented of them seemed to be self-involved and self-important. Divas he thought they called them. And from what he’d heard about Meg from the family, she was the most talented of the talented. And she was unexpected.

He’d laid in bed and watched the waves from the window for a couple of minutes as he reflected on her, then decided he wouldn’t be able to figure her out. But it could be fun studying her for a little while. For the first time he didn’t regret agreeing to let her and Sean stay with him for a few weeks. That’s when he smelled it. Coffee—already made—without him having to get up and make it himself. Yeah, he thought as he swung his feet to the floor, this might shape up to be a pretty good six weeks.

He pulled on sweatpants and a well-worn Navy t-shirt after stopping in the bathroom and padded into the kitchen for coffee. He noticed Sean, still unconscious on the couch, as he passed through the living room. He let himself out the back door quietly and sat on the steps down to the beach to enjoy his coffee. It tasted better than his. What was that—a pinch of cinnamon?

Trace glanced to his left and saw Meg in the distance jogging toward him wearing running shorts and an old t-shirt with
Dance Dance Dance
in faded rainbow colors down the front. Her dark hair, pulled back into a ponytail, bounced behind her.

“Mornin’,” he called as she came nearer.

“Hi. Hope I didn’t wake you up this morning.”

“No, not at all. I’m usually an early riser. Thanks for the coffee, but you really don’t have to do that . . .”

“It’s no big deal—just a pot of coffee. It’s not like I refinished your floors or something.” Meg looked a little embarrassed.