Page 26 of The Hot Shot

Okay, what? Not what I was expecting.

CC:Ballet?

GQ:Yes. Ballet.

CC:Ballet?

GQ:Are we talking in circles here?

Biting my lip against a grin, I rest my forearms on my balcony rail and answer.

CC:No. I’m trying to convey my skepticism.

GQ:You know, for an independent career woman, you’re awfully old fashioned in your outlook, Ms. Copper.

CC:Fine, I’m exposing my double standards. Send a picture as proof.

GQ:So untrusting. Here’s your proof,Mrs. Doubtfire.

He sends me a selfie. Wearing a tank top and baggy gym shorts over tight compression shorts, he’s in front of a mirror wall with a barre bar attached to it. Jake is with him, and they’re both making goofy faces, their tongues sticking out like Gene Simmons from KISS. Between them stands a thin and elegant older woman in a leotard. She grins with pride, her arms around the two men as if they’re her boys.

I laugh, and tap out a quick message.

CC:My mind is officially blown.

GQ:Is that all it takes? Should have done a pirouette for the shoot.

CC:Fairly certain would have resulted in panties going up in flames when that got out.

GQ:You say the nicest things, Chester.

Since I know he’s doing it to irk me, I let “Chester” slide.

CC:I’ll bite. Why are you taking ballet classes?

GQ:Jake found out about it when he pulled a hamstring and had to limber up. It’s great for flexibility, balance... stamina.

GQ:It’s GREAT for stamina.

CC:You keep repeating that like I’m supposed to be impressed.

GQ:Oh, you will be.

Cheeky, little... I start to type out an answer but he sends another text.

GQ:Plus, all the women in class are very eager to help me maintain my form.??

The happy fizz in my belly instantly goes flat, and I’m left with a sour stomach instead. If that isn’t a sign to put the brakes on this, I don’t know what is. I have plenty of male friends. None of them inspire jealousy.

CC:Don’t strain something while you’re at it.

GQ:If I do, will you give me a rubdown?

Right there. That’s flirting. I put down the phone and pace away. Who am I kidding? We’ve been flirting from the start.

James walks in the door and drops his key in the dish. He immediately spots me wearing a groove in the floorboards. “Well, someone has lost her happy face.”

“What did we agree on about reminding me to smile?” I warn, not stopping my pacing.