Read Online Slow Dancing on Price's Pier by Lisa Dale - Free Book Online Page B

eyes: “Oh you know. Boys will be boys.” Though Jonathan worked hard at his studies, never forgetting his homework, always getting A’s, Garret never failed to outshine him with little more than a good drive down the soccer field or a zinger of a joke that cracked up his class—even if it landed him in detention.
    Maybe if Jonathan hadn’t been so pissed off on the day of the snowstorm during his junior year. Maybe if Thea hadn’t been sick, and had been there to distract Garret from his need for adrenaline, and Jonathan from his need to compete. Maybe if it hadn’t snowed, and they weren’t bored, and the rungs leading to the tops of the telephone poles hadn’t been quite so appealing . . .
    Maybe then Jonathan wouldn’t have said, “Yes, but let’s make it a race.”
    On the steely, cold rungs of the telephone pole, Jonathan’s boots squeaked, but the treads held firm. His muscles worked until he perspired beneath his snow pants. He wanted to beat his brother so bad it made little black stars creep in at the edges of his eyes. As the ground disappeared beneath him, falling away inch by inch, the frozen white sky growing closer—he heard Thea’s voice. She’d come out after all; she’d found them. She was calling up to them, her voice cracking the air, calling get down , and he looked to see that he was ahead of Garret— ahead! —higher and higher than his brother, and he thought, with the thrill knights must have felt climbing towers for maidens, I’ll win this one for her, for her, because she’s watching —
    Right before he lost his footing and fell.
    At the hospital, tucked into a hard white bed, his parents stared down at him in disappointment and shook their heads. “You should have known better,” they said.
    And Jonathan could only close his eyes and pretend he was sleeping, because they were right: he should have known better. He always was supposed to know better—better than Garret anyway.
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    â€œIrina!” Thea called to her daughter, who was out on the floor, talking to Hollis and Dean as they set up their chessboard. She’d just come from practice. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail that hung down thin and straight, and her entire left side was a grass stain. She was telling them about it like a fisherman might brag about his catch of the day. “Irina!”
    Irina glanced over at her, then looked back at the chess players, going on with her story as if Thea hadn’t just called her name. Hollis, who was placing black pawns one by one on their squares, rolled his eyes—just enough so that Thea would see.
    Thea finished making a café breve of espresso and cream, and she set it on the counter for Claudine. “Will you take this to table six?”
    Claudine smirked. Her big bracelets clacked together as she picked up the drink. “ Mon Dieu . She’s a talker, that one.”
    Thea didn’t bother to answer. She hurried over to her customers’ table to save them from her domineering kid, wiping her hands on her apron as she went. “Sorry about this,” she said, smiling sweetly. “She’s always been a chatterbox.”
    â€œIt’s fine,” Hollis said.
    â€œLet’s just get to playing,” Dean said.
    Thea tugged her daughter by the arm away from the old men. Later she would bring over a few little butter cookies, on the house, to thank them for their patience. But for now, she glared at Irina—embarrassed that she would so publicly and purposefully misbehave. “Irina, I was calling you.”
    â€œI know,” Irina said.
    â€œYour uncle Garret is going to be here any minute,” Thea said. “Now come with me.”
    Irina didn’t simply follow Thea back across the room, she stomped . Once behind the counter, Thea bent until she was at her daughter’s level, where they were both hidden from prying eyes by