an hour ago to tell her he had the flu and wouldn’t be able to take her to the dance. All dressed up and nowhere to go.
Gina had kept quiet about her change of plans during the excitement of her mother snapping pictures of the twins and their respective dates in front of the fireplace. Giselle looked lovely standing next to her date in her lemon-yellow chiffon gown with its multilayered tiered skirt. Garrett had returned home after picking up Leenie Harden, his steady girlfriend and the daughter of the mayor, to have their pictures taken. Then the four teenagers left to meet friends and head to the dance.
“Shouldn’t your date be here soon?”
Gina looked at her mother. “Ric called a while ago. He’s not coming.”
“What?”
“He’s got the flu. He said it started as a cold and got worse as the day went on. He’d hoped to be able to make it which is why he called so late, but…”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. You were so excited about your date.”
Gina sighed. “Ric isn’t a date. I mean, yes, he was my date tonight, but it’s no big deal.”
No big deal.
The words echoed inside her head.
Words that had become her mantra in the last two weeks.
Words Justin must’ve taken to heart because he was back to treating her as a polite acquaintance at best. With his working days and her working nights, it wasn’t as if she’d had much of a chance to see him anyway. He wasn’t outright ignoring her, but was treating her with cool indifference. As if everything that had happened between them was, indeed, no big deal.
Gina sank to the corner of the couch and closed her eyes, determined not to let her mother see her unexpected tears. Why was she upset? It was just a silly high school dance. So what if she spent a small fortune on the dress and heels?
“You don’t have to stick around.” Head dipped, Gina slipped off one shoe and wiggled her toes. She’d worn the Betsey Johnson peep toes around the house all week trying to break them in. “I know you and Hank have plans.”
“You could still go.”
“Show up alone? I don’t think so.”
“Gina Marie Steele, those children are counting on you.” Her mother’s tone got the desired results. Gina looked up at her. “Not to mention the other chaperones.”
Her mother was right, of course, but she hated the idea of walking into the school gym all by herself. Maybe she could hide out in the girls’ restroom. Or roam the halls making sure no one tried to find a dark corner.
“I know, Mom, I know.”
“Hank should be here soon. We could take you over to the school on our way to the movies.”
Gina offered a half-hearted laugh. “Dropped off at the dance by my mother? No, thanks. I’ll drive myself as soon as I change my clothes.”
“Change?”
Rising, Gina balanced herself, putting most of her weight on her bare foot. “Yes, change. Getting all dressed up for a date is one thing, but I’m not showing up alone looking like this. I’ll put on a simple dress and sensible shoes.”
“But, Gina—”
“No buts, Mom. Go powder your pretty nose before your guy gets here.”
Gina could see an argument brewing, but her mom turned and disappeared down the hall to her bedroom. Seconds later, the doorbell rang.
“There’s Hank. I’ll get it,” Gina called out before hobbling to the front door. Opening it, she bent and tried to wiggle her bare foot back into the new shoe. “Hey, there. My mom will be just a second…”
Her voice disappeared the moment she noticed the polished cowboy boots shining in the glow of the porch light.
Her eyes flew to his face, but a black Stetson, worn low over his brow, made it impossible to see anything more than his familiar straight nose, full mouth and square jaw.
Justin.
She gave up on her shoe and slowly straightened, clutching the high heel to her chest as she took in his dark suit jacket, matching trousers and stark white shirt. Instead of a standard tie, a bolo tie with a metallic gray stone surrounded by silver scroll work hung around his neck.
Justin Dillon stood on her front porch looking sinfully delicious all dressed up for a night on the town. And in his hands he held a clear plastic corsage box containing a cluster of yellow roses.
“If you’re looking for a Prince Charming to help you with that shoe, Cinderella—” the familiar low timbre of his voice stole