Save the Last Dance Read online

  Copyright © 2020 by Shelley Shepard Gray

  E-book published in 2020 by Blackstone Publishing

  Cover design by Alenka Vdovič Linaschke

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced

  or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the

  publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental

  and not intended by the author.

  Trade e-book ISBN 978-1-982658-60-1

  Library e-book ISBN 978-1-982658-59-5

  Fiction / Romance / General

  CIP data for this book is available from the Library of Congress

  Blackstone Publishing

  31 Mistletoe Rd.

  Ashland, OR 97520

  www.BlackstonePublishing.com

  To Connie Lynch—a tireless supporter of writers and readers, and one of the kindest women I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. Connie, I hope this book makes you smile.

  Letter to Readers

  On Thursday, December 13, 2018, Nicole Resciniti, my longtime agent, called with the incredible news that the team at Blackstone Publishing had just offered a contract for my Dance with Me series. I know this date because we had just started our drive from Cincinnati to Colorado Springs. We’d moved out of our house the night before, signed the papers for the new owners that morning, then started driving. And in the middle of that first morning—somewhere in the middle of Indiana—I received the call!

  I’ve often thought about how timely that call was. Like the women in the Dance with Me trilogy, I was about to start over in a new town. I was also excited about the prospect and sad to be leaving everything familiar. Since the day of that phone call, Tom and I moved to Colorado. We also remodeled most of a house, made new friends, found a new church, went through a lengthy shoulder surgery, and shoveled a whole lot of snow. In the midst of all of that, I wrote Shall We Dance?, Take the Lead, and Save the Last Dance.

  Now, like Shannon, Traci, and Kimber, I’ve at last settled into a new home and will be forever grateful for the opportunity I was given to start over.

  I’m honestly a little sad to say goodbye to all the characters and places I made up in the fictional town of Bridgeport. I loved writing all six books set here, both the Dance with Me trilogy and the original Bridgeport Social Club books.

  I’m so pleased to share that I’ve recently been given another contract from Blackstone. These books will be more romantic suspense in nature and take place in Ross County, Ohio. They feature English characters but many Amish secondary characters—which of course, are close to my heart. I hope you enjoy Edgewater Road, the first book in the series, which will be published in 2021. The first chapter is in the back of this book!

  I always say I write books not just for myself but for my readers. So, dear reader, thank you for traveling to Bridgeport with me, and I’ll look forward to greeting you in Ross County very soon!

  With my blessings and my thanks,

  Shelley Shepard Gray

  CHAPTER 1

  December 1

  She couldn’t get off the phone fast enough. Pacing the length of her small bedroom, Kimber Klein fiddled with her earpiece and tried to come up with a legitimate reason to end the call. Esme wasn’t making it easy, though. Her girlfriend approached most conversations in the same way she directed her modeling career—with grit and determination.

  “Kimber, you never answered my question. Is that guy still stalking you?”

  That guy was Peter Mohler. Peter, who had worked on one of her photo shoots a year ago, had been trying to get closer ever since. Peter, who’d sent her flowers, cards, and creepy lingerie. Peter, who her agent Brett seemed to think she was making too big a deal about.

  She didn’t feel the same way. Even thinking about Peter Mohler made her feel sick. “I don’t think so.” She really hoped not.

  “You mean he finally stopped sending you those creepy notes?”

  “It looks like it. I haven’t gotten anything from him in weeks.” Of course, she’d also moved from New York City to small-town Ohio . . . and essentially stopped modeling.

  “You aren’t sure?” Esme sounded confused.

  Kimber couldn’t really blame her. She was confused by her behavior as well. She’d always been assertive and direct—

  sometimes to a fault. When she was a teenager, she’d been proud of herself, feeling like a “real” New Yorker.

  Over the last year, she’d changed a bit, though. She was more patient, more subdued. Hesitant.

  Peter’s constant notes and gifts had made her uncomfortable. His sudden appearance at one of her modeling shoots had freaked her out. About to call the police, she’d touched base with Brett. He’d been upset on her behalf and told her to relax because he was going to take care of Peter.

  But then she’d discovered that he’d never done a thing.

  “I don’t really think about Peter anymore,” she lied, focusing back on their conversation. “He’s in my past.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s good,” Esme said. “It’s probably healthier, huh?”

  “It is. I feel better. I mean, all of me feels healthier now.”

  “I still don’t understand how you were able to walk away from your whole life, Kimber,” Esme said with a new spike of incredulousness in her voice. “Grand Cayman was gorgeous and the designer gave us all samples. I got the most divine silk chiffon gown in spearmint. You would have loved it.”

  Kimber barely refrained from rolling her eyes. That was how she used to talk too. She used to be amazing at describing items of clothing in a way no one who didn’t work in the fashion business would even think about. “I bet.”

  Esme paused, obviously waiting for some more envy-laced comments or another couple of questions. When Kimber remained silent, she added, “You would have had a ball.”

  “It does sound like a good time,” she murmured, because modeling bathing suits on a beautiful tropical island had once been her dream job. She’d loved the beach and the downtime and the gorgeous clothes and samples that she’d been given. “I would have loved those days on the beach . . . if I wasn’t retired.”

  Esme cleared her throat. “You didn’t have to be, Kim. We were all talking about you. John Creek swore that you could have gone another five years.”

  John Creek was one of the top photographers in the business. For him to say such a thing was a compliment—and very generous.

  Kimber guessed it was maybe too generous. She might have had three more years modeling, and that would have been stretching it.

  She could have gone for a while longer . . . if she’d been willing to continue the same grueling pace.

  That was, she would have had a ball modeling bathing suits and ball gowns for high-end fashion magazines while getting paid an obscene amount of money to pose on the beach on a Caribbean island.

  All she would’ve had to do was stay hungry, swallow her pride, and pretend that nothing else mattered to her except being photogenic and having a hefty savings account.

  But that was the thing—for the last year, none of that really seemed to matter anymore.

  Or maybe it never had.

  Feeling drained, Kimber said, “Esme, it’s been nice talking to you, but I’ve got to go.”

  “How come? What are you doing these days?”

  She was currently doing a lot of nothing . . . except for her new volunteer gig at the elementary school library. “I’m still ge
tting my bearings, though I have been volunteering lately.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Hey, don’t knock it. Doing nothing feels pretty good.” Before Esme could reflect on that, Kimber softened her voice. “I am real glad you called, Ezzie. You didn’t have to think of me. I appreciate it.”

  “We’re friends, right?”

  She felt terrible. “Right. We are friends. I’ll call you next time.”

  “I hope you will. Oh! Door’s ringing. I’ve gotta go. Bye.”

  “Bye,” Kimber replied, though the line was already dead.

  After swiping the screen a couple of times to check that she didn’t have any messages or emails, Kimber set the phone down. If the last phone call hadn’t done it, the lack of anything would have cemented the state of her life. She was currently doing next to nothing with her life.

  She’d thought it would feel a lot better than it did.

  * * *

  “Everyone, let’s say a big Coyote hello to Miss Klein and tell her thank you for being our reading volunteer today!”

  Kimber smiled then tried not to step backward as the group of nine-year-olds howled at her. Someone needed to tell them to tone it down a notch.

  When the librarian looked her way expectantly, Kimber said, “I don’t have to howl back, do I?”

  “Absolutely not, dear.”

  “Whew. I was a little worried there.”

  She’d been serious, but everyone in the room chuckled—the kids, the librarian and her aide, and even the kids’ classroom teacher.

  Actually, everyone seemed pretty amused by her except for Jeremy, who was standing in the back of the room with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his worn jeans. She’d learned during her first visit that the dark-haired fifteen-year-old was earning some volunteer credits this semester. He came to the elementary school a few times a month and helped various teachers for an hour or two. Mrs. Lentz, the librarian, loved having him shelve books.

  Kimber figured she normally wouldn’t have given the teen a second thought, but there was something about him that called to her. Maybe it was because he looked just as uncomfortable in his skin as she felt. There he was, wearing faded jeans, tennis shoes, and a pullover and looking pretty much like every other fifteen-year-old boy in the area. But there was something in his blue eyes that seemed far older than his years.

  Not for the first time, she wondered what his story was.

  “Miss Klein, would you like to begin now?”

  “Oh. Yes. Of course, Mrs. Lentz.” Holding the picture book up, Kimber said, “This is one of my favorite holiday stories, The Christmas Mouse.”

  As she began reading through the well-loved story, everything that had been bothering her began to fade away—the doubts, the boredom, Peter Mohler and his creepy fixation with her.

  One by one, the kids stopped fidgeting and got caught up in the story. Little by little, they began to smile about the little Christmas mouse’s adventures.

  All except for Jeremy. He kept shelving books but stopped frequently to listen. She loved that. However, every time their eyes caught, he looked away, like he was embarrassed.

  When Christmas Day came and the little mouse had a cozy home all his own, Kimber closed the book with a satisfied sigh.

  “So what did all of you think?”

  Hands shot in the air. Laughing, she called on the little girl with the red pigtails in the front row.

  “I want a Christmas mouse.”

  “I do too. Does anyone have a favorite part?” She called on a boy in the back corner.

  “When he was almost caught in the trap. That was scary.”

  Kimber nodded. “I thought so too.”

  Mrs. Lentz joined them. “Everyone, it’s time to line up. The bell’s going to ring soon and we need to get you back to class.”

  Immediately, all twenty-four of them jumped to their feet and hurried into line. They’d already completely forgotten about her and were excited to move onto the next part of the day.

  After the kids left, she glanced at Jeremy. He had picked up the book and was examining the cover.

  She walked to his side. “It’s a cute story, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m a fan of picture books. I’m always in awe of the illustrations. Do you like them?”

  “They’re all right, I guess. I . . . I’d just heard this one before.”

  “Did your mom read it to you when you were little or something?”

  He paled. “I’ve gotta go.” Looking like he couldn’t get out of the room fast enough, he spoke a few words to Mrs. Lentz, held out a card for her to sign, then grabbed his coat and strode out the door.

  Unable to help herself, Kimber watched him until he was out of sight.

  “He got to you, didn’t he?” Jeanie Lentz said.

  “I guess he did, but I’m afraid I just scared him off. I don’t know what I did, though. Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Jeremy is a good kid, but he’s a little aloof.”

  “I know you can’t share too much, but is he okay?”

  “I think so.” She paused, then said, “He’s in foster care, with a single dad.”

  “He’s a foster kid? Poor guy.”

  “People say he’s been through a lot.” Jeanie smiled softly. “I heard his parents died in a car accident or something a couple of years ago, and he’s been in a couple of homes since then.”

  Now she felt terrible. “No wonder he took off so fast. I asked him if his mom used to read The Christmas Mouse to him.”

  Jeanie shrugged. “No reason to feel bad, dear. You couldn’t have known about his parents. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t have been too surprised if he had told you all about his mom. He might have enjoyed sharing that memory with someone.”

  “Maybe.” Thinking about her own mom—who had adopted her when she was just a baby—Kimber nodded. “Well, I guess it’s time for me to get out of here as well. Thanks for letting me come back.”

  “It’s my pleasure. You have a great rapport with the kids, and it’s obvious that you love the books too. I’m delighted that you’re volunteering.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Actually, no pressure, but if you’d like to do more around here, I’d love it.”

  “You mean read to more classes?”

  “Yes. And help check books in and out. Maybe do a little bit of tutoring.”

  “Wow. Let me think about it.”

  “Sure. Like I said, it’s all unpaid, so just do what you want.”

  “I’ll let you know next week.”

  “Perfect. Now, you better get on your way. The final bell’s about to ring. If you’re not careful, you won’t be able to get out of the parking lot for another twenty minutes.”

  Kimber grabbed her purse and coat. “See you soon,” she said before rushing down the hallway. After making a quick stop at the volunteer desk, she trotted out to the parking lot.

  Her pace slowed as she realized it was too late—she was going to be there for quite a while. There was already a long line of parents waiting to pick up kids.

  Then she stopped at her brand-new, gleaming-white, all-wheel-drive Mercedes. Two of the tires were flat.

  Flat like she wasn’t going to be anywhere anytime soon. Flat like they’d been slashed on purpose.

  And then she spied a familiar-looking note with the familiar-

  looking handwriting tucked under one of the windshield wipers.

  Peter Mohler had found her again.

  Standing there in the middle of the Bridgeport Elementary parking lot, Kimber tried her hardest not to burst into tears.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Amazing grace! How sweet the sound

  That saved a wretch like me.

  I once was lost but now am found,
>
  Was blind but now I see.”

  —john newton

  Never in his life had Gunnar Law seen such a pretty woman have such a royal hissy fit in a school parking lot. He’d been sitting in the parent pick up line, flipping through the radio stations, trying to find one that wasn’t already playing Christmas music—honestly doing nothing but biding his time until he could pick up Jeremy and get home.

  He’d been bored, a little stressed, thinking about the car he could have been working on at the shop . . . when, there she was. A tall woman, at least five foot nine, slim, with gorgeous hair that hung in rich, dark waves to her shoulder blades. She had on dark jeans, black boots, an ivory sweater, and a form-fitting light-blue parka.

  She was stunning, there was no other word for it. Heck, he hadn’t even known that word was in his vocabulary until it popped into his head.

  Sitting behind the tinted windows of his Chevy truck, he watched every step she took. Then, in spite of the distance, he found himself worrying about her when she drew to an abrupt halt in front of a gleaming-white Mercedes sedan, dropped open her mouth and froze.

  For a split second there, he’d been sure she was petrified.

  She inhaled deeply, preparing to let out a full-on scream, but then she seemed to catch herself at the very last minute. To his surprise, she covered her mouth with one gloved hand and stomped her feet. It was kind of cute.

  It was also kind of odd.

  He didn’t know a lot of beautiful Mercedes-driving women—okay, he didn’t know any beyond the ones who owned the cars he worked on—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t tell when something was wrong. He finally looked down where she was staring.

  Two flat tires.

  And he knew right away that he wasn’t looking at two tires that had come into contact with a couple of stray nails on the road. No, someone had done some real damage to her car.

  beep.

  He jumped, then realized he was holding up the car line. He moved forward, catching sight of Jeremy standing off to the side. The boy looked calm and a little removed from his surroundings.