by the next class. Violet appeared, still sporting Avery’s braids from yesterday. She waved to her father, beamed at Carrie and then shot Avery an angry death glare.
Avery tugged on the ends of her hair and mouthed, “Nice braids,” earning an eye roll from the girl.
“You know she’s five,” Gray whispered, leaning in. “You’re supposed to be the adult.”
Oh, yeah, Avery’s girlie parts wanted to shout as Gray’s heat and masculine scent washed over her. All grown woman right here.
“Kids shouldn’t be coddled,” she answered instead, then bit the inside of cheek, hating that she sounded like her mother.
“Dad used to say the same thing,” Carrie told them both. “That’s a strange coincidence.”
“Stop distracting me. I’m pretending to care.” Avery ignored both Carrie and Gray, even when she felt them share a look behind her back.
She’d never admit it, but she did care. It was infuriating to have her emotions manipulated by a financially strapped dance teacher and her students, but Avery couldn’t help it.
Of course she still didn’t believe she could help Josie. Maybe that explained the tears that pricked the backs of her eyes when the final students, three awkward and lovely preteen girls, took their bows.
As the parents clapped, Josie glided toward Avery with a triumphant smile. “Well?” she demanded. “Weren’t they magnificent?”
“Yes,” Avery said simply. Maybe she wouldn’t have chosen the word magnificent to describe the dancers, but the show of solidarity and the attempt to sway her from a path she hadn’t chosen was something to behold.
“Does this make you change your mind about selling the building?” Josie asked, her tone so hopeful it made Avery’s heart lurch.
The children had followed their beloved teacher, and Avery felt her cheeks burn as everyone in the room seemed to hold a collective breath waiting for her answer.
“I can’t... There isn’t...” She shook her head. “I don’t—”
“We don’t have a plan yet,” Carrie said, jumping to her feet and taking Avery’s hand. “But Avery, Meredith and I are working on one. Our father loved this town, and Avery already sees how special it is.”
“I don’t,” Avery protested, teeth grinding at the gasps of horror that went up around her at those blasphemous words. “I do see that Magnolia is special,” she amended. “But I’m not—”
“Ready to give up on Dad’s dream just yet,” Carrie supplied.
Avery pinched the back of Carrie’s arm so hard the other woman yelped.
“Thank you,” Josie said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I know you’ll think of a way to save us. It’s what your father would have wanted.”
“I’m not anyone’s savior,” Avery said quickly. “Clearly neither was Niall. Despite what Carrie has led you to believe—”
“Can I pet your cow?” a girl asked, moving forward.
“She’s a dog,” Avery clarified.
Spot wriggled and licked the child’s hand as she rubbed her freckled nose.
“She’s cute,” another girl said, joining her friend.
A moment later, Avery was surrounded. She cringed as the dancers pummeled her with questions and invitations for Spot to have playdates with their various pets.
“Dogs don’t do playdates,” she muttered, eyes narrowing at the sound of Gray’s deep chuckle next to her. She sent him a desperate glance. “Help me.”
“Looks like you and Spot have got this one covered,” he answered, moving away from the sea of pink tulle.
Spot was shockingly in her element, so animated Avery wondered if the dog might have a heart attack from all the excitement. She lowered the animal to the wood floor, and Spot did her back-flop trick, much to the delight of the pint-sized ballerinas.
“Come to the gallery when you’re finished here,” Carrie said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll work on a plan.”
“The plan is selling the buildings.”
“Good luck with that,” Carrie offered, then made her way out of the crowd.
Luck was just what she needed, Avery thought, wincing as several dancers shrieked when Spot let out a loud dog fart.
Luck and a giant bottle of headache medicine.
CHAPTER EIGHT
GRAY