The Ballerina's Stand

Love reaches far beyond words

When she was growing up, a deaf child in foster care, dancing gave Lauren Ramsey a sense of belonging. Now she’s a prima ballerina with her own dance studio; everything’s finally going right. And then lawyer Jason Hawkins turns up and drops a bombshell: Lauren’s unknown father has left her a fortune. Well, Jason can take that money and shove it. Except...he can’t. Once he sees Lauren dancing, he can’t stay away...

Lauren had never liked surprises.

Even good ones, she thought, though there were few to reference.

Jason drove toward Glendale. Not too far from home, but not a part of town she was familiar with. The sights intrigued her, and she felt a sense of anticipation.

Finally, Jason pulled into a large parking lot filled with pickup trucks. The neon sign on the roof of the bar shone bright orange, casting a glow over everything.

Lauren had never been to any place like this, and her anticipation threatened to morph into anxiety. Jason squeezed her hand and gave her another of those smiles.

“Come on,” he said, climbing out and coming around to her side of the car. As they walked across the parking lot, he took her hand again, and she let him. It seemed...right.

His hand was strong, warm and callused, and any uncertainties she’d had fled. She let herself smile back at him and relaxed for the first time that night.

Dear Reader,

As a kid, I was always fascinated with people whose lives were different from mine. I read any biography I could get my hands on. Helen Keller and Annie Sullivan were two people I always admired.

A couple years ago, I was given the opportunity to take sign language classes at work and, through that class, I met someone who left a lasting impression. The instructor for those classes made me think and work hard to learn this new language. She taught us more than the signs, she also showed us a whole new fascinating culture.

As always in new situations, my brain came up with ideas for characters, and a story that scared me enough to make me question my ability as a writer and my sanity. I wanted to show this new culture I’d come to respect and like. This story touched my heart, but proved to be the hardest one I’ve ever taken on.

I hope you’ll enjoy getting more acquainted with the third brother in the Hawkins family, Jason, and the woman who steals his heart, Lauren Ramsey. I also hope to share a respect and understanding of the challenges the hearing-impaired face. Any inaccuracies are purely things I still have to learn in this lifelong journey.

Angel Smits

The Ballerina’s Stand

Angel Smits

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANGEL SMITS lives in Colorado with her husband, daughter and puppy. Winning the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart® Award was the highlight of her writing career, until her first Harlequin book hit the shelves. Her social work background inspires her characters while improv writing allows her to torture them. It’s a rough job, but someone’s got to do it.

This book is dedicated to some very amazing people. My critique partners, Pam McCutcheon, Karen Fox and Jodi Anderson, who slogged through this with me. And my husband, Ron, who had to listen to me all the way through. But mostly to Lauraan, who showed me what a strong person can do in this world. Thank you all.

Contents

COVER

BACK COVER TEXT

INTRODUCTION

Dear Reader

TITLE PAGE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DEDICATION

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EXTRACT

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

APPARENTLY, MOST OF Jason Hawkins’s siblings had been bitten by the love bug. Standing here in the basement of the church, listening to a local country band, a warm beer in hand, Jason simply watched and shook his head.

His younger brother, DJ, looked as handsome and happy as ever in a black tuxedo. Tammie, the newest addition to the Hawkins clan, glowed in her lacy confection of a wedding dress as DJ spun her around the dance floor.

Those two didn’t even seem to notice there was anyone else in the room—except their son, Tyler, who, at the age of nine, took his duty as best man very seriously. He’d banged a spoon on the drinking glasses so many times, to get his parents to kiss, that Jason was getting a headache.

Wyatt and Emily, Jason’s older brother and his fiancée, were busy gathering all the silverware to get it to the church ladies in the kitchen and out of Tyler’s reach.

Jason considered helping, but they were having entirely too much fun doing it together.

One of his younger sisters, Mandy, sat nearby, her little one, Lucas, asleep in her arms. She was smiling and swaying to the song’s beat as if she wished she were out on the dance floor.

Not like she hadn’t been out there plenty. Lane, Mandy’s boyfriend, and Lucas’s father, had done his due diligence. Now the poor guy was running to get drinks for them at the bar. Mandy and Lane hadn’t announced anything official about their relationship yet, but the entire time Jason had been back home, Mandy had stayed at Lane’s place. The man didn’t look one bit put out about it, either.

Jason figured he’d have yet another wedding to attend soon. He just wasn’t sure whose first. Wyatt’s or Mandy’s?

“I don’t see you taking anyone out for a spin, brother dear.” His youngest sister, Tara, sidled up to him.

He gave her his best outraged glare. “I danced with Addie, and you.”

“Obligatory dances with your sisters don’t count.” They both watched Addie glide by on the arm of one of the ranch hands. Paulo, if he remembered correctly. Jason couldn’t keep all the guys straight. He only came back to the ranch a couple times a year and the staff always changed. Chet the ranch foreman, and his wife, Juanita the cook, were the only constants. They, too, were out on the dance floor.

Jason grinned. He’d always enjoyed Tara the most of his siblings. Logical and straightforward, she was the most like him. If he could say anyone in this family was like him.

Otherwise, if it weren’t for the physical family resemblance, he’d think he was adopted. Wyatt was a rancher. DJ a soldier, although medically retired now, who worked with Wyatt on the ranch. Addie taught school. And Mandy was a stay-at-home mom, working in the ranch office part-time and helping Lane with the Hot Shot fire crew he worked on. All hands-on, active, people.

Jason looked at Tara, who was nursing a beer of her own. Even she liked to get her hands dirty, working with food as a chef. “What about you, sis? Anyone on your horizon?”

“No! And don’t jinx it. I’m too busy. I have a restaurant to open, remember, oh mighty lawyer-from-hell with all the paperwork?”

He laughed. She’d grumbled at all the contracts, signatures and forms he’d had her fill out. But she’d be much better off in the long run—and protected. He’d made sure of that.

Even she fit in better here than he did. She wanted to settle in Texas. Near enough to the ranch and family, but far enough away to have her independence.

He understood that last point—it’s why he’d moved to California. He glanced around at the simple church basement, contrasting it with his usual surroundings—his office and his Los Angeles apartment.

Contemporary was more his style. Chrome and clean. Linear.

Addie flopped down in the chair next to him. “Okay, Tara, your turn.” She panted, giving her sister a pointed look.

“I’m not dancing with Paulo again,” Tara said as softly as she could and still be heard. “The man’s not light on his feet, or mine.”

“Well, I’m not, either. Jason, it’s your brotherly duty to protect us from cowboys with big clumsy feet, right?”

“How did I get involved in this?” He looked from sister to sister. “I’m sure as hell not dancing with him.” Their laughter, while warm and welcome, didn’t let him off the hook, and he knew it.

He was the last unclaimed male over eighteen in this family. He glanced at his watch. Didn’t he have a flight to catch?

Damn. Not for twenty-four more hours.

Three of those hours later, the wedding reception finally wound down. Jason made sure he was nowhere around for the bouquet toss by heading to the ranch house for shelter. He had no intention of being anyone’s target when they caught the thing, nor for the garter throw. Let a ranch hand or some local hang the piece of silk from the rearview mirror of their truck.

“So, this is where you snuck off to.” Tara’s voice came through the screen door before she opened it and stepped into Wyatt’s big homey kitchen.

“With you right behind me,” he told his little—amend that—younger sister.

“You making coffee?” She pointedly glanced at the familiar green canisters behind him that had come from Mom’s house. “’Cause there’s a whole plate of Addie’s cookies that need a cup of warmth to wash them down.”

“Thinking about it.” He looked at the heaping plate, amazed there were still some left.

“Well, quit thinking and get it done.”

He laughed and set to work. Tara sat in the big captain’s chair at the head of the table, the soft blue fabric of her bridesmaid’s dress rustled loudly. Her high heels thunked to the floor.

“You realize this is just the first one, don’t you?” He sat in the next seat.

“Yes. Lord. Are we going to survive six of these?”

“Hey, at least one of them will be yours.” He grinned at her.

She groaned as she crossed her arms on the tabletop and rested her head on her forearms. “Not any time soon, I hope.”

The coffeemaker gave off a last gasping sputter. Jason rose to get them each a cup.

They’d just taken a sip of the rich brew when more footsteps sounded on the walk outside. “You’ll have to make another pot,” Tara predicted. “Should we hide the cookies?” She took a big bite of the one in her hand.

Jason laughed, snagging one more for himself as the rest of the family came through the screen door. Addie made the best cookies and the comfort they gave wasn’t something any of them would give up.

Wyatt entered the kitchen and made his way to the stairs, a sound-asleep Tyler draped over his shoulder. The boy would be staying here while DJ and Tammie went to South Padre Island for their honeymoon. Addie and Emily settled around the table with the rest of them.

Jason served the last of the pot and made the second. The decibel level in the room rose, though that didn’t seem to faze baby Lucas. He was sacked out in a swing in the middle of everything.

Jason leaned against the counter, watching and listening to the big rambunctious family. It felt good to be home. Wyatt soon joined him as they both sipped their coffee.

“You’re really going to go through this insanity yourself?” Jason asked Wyatt. The engagement ring on Emily’s hand still sparkled with the newness of gold and diamond.

“In time,” was all Wyatt said. It had taken him forever to propose, so Jason figured the wedding would take just as long. Jason was fine with that.

A knock at the door surprised them all, and Wyatt went to answer. A cowboy, not one of Wyatt’s men, stood there. “Come on in, John.” Wyatt pushed the screen farther open and the tall, lanky man stepped inside. He hastily yanked the Stetson off his head and nodded toward the room’s inhabitants.

“What can I do for you?” Wyatt lifted a cup, silently offering the man some coffee.

“No. I’m good. Gotta get up early and that’ll keep me awake. I’m here to see the lawyer.”

The room grew quiet, and every head turned to look at Jason. He frowned. He wasn’t here to work. Besides, what would a cowpoke need with a corporate attorney? “Uh, that’s me.” He pushed away from the counter.

“Good. Good.” The man twisted his hat in his hands. “Can we talk in private?”

Jason looked around, and Wyatt shrugged. Jason followed the man out into the yard. The big lights were still on, bathing everything in a white glow. Night sounds and a soft breeze broke the prairie quiet.

“What can I help you with? John, right?” Jason knew the man was seeking help—he’d seen that desperate look in too many clients’ eyes.

“It’s not me, sir.” The man twisted his hat around again. “My boss sent me.”

“Who’s your boss?”

“Pal Haymaker.”

Jason cursed. Jason didn’t want anything to do with Haymaker, a man who’d tried to run Wyatt out of business and had nearly killed Lane and Mandy with his stupidity.

“I’m not interested in working for him.” Jason didn’t even try to keep the contempt out of his voice.

“Please, sir.” The man stepped forward. “He’s not doing so good.” The man looked up at the sky as if hoping to see an answer written in the heavens. “I know he ain’t been good to you and yours. But he asked me to tell you it’s not about your family.” The cowboy swallowed and Jason saw the man’s Adam’s apple bob. “He said he don’t trust no one but you with this.”

Jason cringed. He hated when a potential case piqued his interest this way. It made it hard to keep his distance and objectivity and turn it down.

“You have any idea what it’s about?”

The cowboy shook his head. “He asked me to have you come see him tomorrow mornin’. If you can.”

Jason sighed. What could it hurt? “I can be there around nine?”

The cowboy grinned. “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.” Relief rolled off the man’s broad shoulders.

Jason watched the cowboy amble away and climb into a battered pickup. A cloud of smoke rose up behind the vehicle as it left the yard.

What would Haymaker have done to the guy if Jason hadn’t agreed? He didn’t want to know.

“What the hell was that about?” Wyatt spoke from the now-open screen door.

Jason slowly walked back to the house. “Apparently, Pal Haymaker has a legal matter he only trusts me to handle.”

“He’s up to something.”

“Yeah. But I’m curious enough. I think I’ll go see him.”

“You’re not going by yourself.”

“Why not? I meet with clients on my own all the time.”

“I don’t trust Pal and you know why. You might need a witness.”

Wyatt did have a point. “Well, you can’t go—he’d probably shoot you on sight. And same goes for Lane, especially since their last go-round after the fire. And DJ’s not exactly available.”

Wyatt laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah. Take Chet with you. He and Pal go way back. He’s the only one of us the old man won’t try to blast into the next county.”

Jason nodded. “I can do that.”

“John give you any idea what it’s about?”

“No.” Jason stared at the empty driveway, a frown on his brow. He was usually good at reading people, and that cowboy hadn’t just been doing his boss’s bidding. He’d been scared.

“I thought Pal was half-dead.”

“Yeah, well, until he’s actually six feet under, don’t count that bastard out. He’s still powerful around here.”

The silence settled around them, comfortably. Jason had always respected Wyatt. Only in the last few years had Jason gotten the chance to get to know his older brother better. Man to man.

Wyatt had stepped into the role of parent when their dad died. Wyatt had been fifteen, while Jason had been eleven. Those roles still permeated their relationship.

“How’re things going out there in LA?” Wyatt tried to sound casual. Jason almost laughed. Wyatt couldn’t fathom the idea of living in a city. Jason loved the pace, the pseudo privacy, the beauty of the big, active city.

“You and Emily should visit. I’ll show you around.”

“That’d be nice.” Emily’s voice came out of the darkness, as she stepped outside to lean against Wyatt. His arm went around her almost as a reflex. They were as comfortable as any long-married couple.

And then it hit him. “Wait.” Jason stared at them. “Wyatt, you rat.” Jason punched his brother in the arm, just like when they were kids. “You two aren’t going through this insanity. It’s already a done deal.”

Wyatt laughed and Emily blushed, her cheeks shadowed in the dim night light.

Jason was surprised at the hitch of some unusual emotion ripping through him as the two shared a look. “When?”

“A couple weeks ago,” Emily whispered, not taking her gaze from Wyatt’s. “My boss performed the ceremony one afternoon. Convenient working for a county judge.” She shrugged and smiled.

Jason glanced over at his brother who looked totally smitten.

“Congratulations. But, why?”

Wyatt looked down at Emily. “It seemed like the right thing to do. We didn’t want to interfere with DJ and Tammie’s day. They needed the big to-do. We just needed—” Wyatt paused and his smile softened. Jason felt himself smile, too, pleased that this woman made his brother happy.

“Each other,” Emily finished for him on a whisper, gazing up, just as besotted, at her new husband.

“I—uh—think I’ll turn in.” Jason headed into the house, fairly certain neither of them heard him leave.

Inside, Tara and Addie cleaned up the few dishes, their dresses rustling in tune as they moved, while Mandy fed the baby and Lane sat nearby. It was comfortable, safe. Home.

The day was winding down. Jason wouldn’t tell anyone that Wyatt and Emily had eloped—that was their news. Though he was tempted to tell Tara she would need to buy one fewer bridesmaid’s dress. She’d be relieved.

After saying his goodnights, he went upstairs to the guest room, his mind full of coffee and curiosity. What the hell was Pal Haymaker up to? And how would it affect the people downstairs? His family.

Jason didn’t live here in Texas. He wasn’t a provider like Wyatt, nor a soldier like DJ had been, but he had his own way of protecting the people he cared about. He’d studied the law and every one of his siblings had benefited from his advice at some point—Wyatt with the business of the ranch, Tara with her restaurant idea and Mandy with her son’s future.

Jason knew he’d do just about anything, even work for an asshole like Pal Haymaker, if it kept those people downstairs, nearly all the people he loved, happy and safe.

* * *

ACCORDING TO WYATT, Pal had been banned from the big house. Pal Jr. had paid the bail money and hired a high-profile attorney, but wasn’t speaking to his father after he’d nearly burned up the entire county. As for Trey Haymaker, Pal’s grandson and DJ’s friend, he had disappeared. If anyone knew where he was, they weren’t telling. Jason didn’t blame him.

The old man had done a number on everyone.

The original hundred-year-old ranch house was still impressive, though. It dwarfed even Wyatt’s place, and the trees had easily been around for an additional century. An older woman answered the door, nodding but not smiling as she let Jason in. He followed her as she slowly walked down the long hallway, her serviceable shoes squeaking against the polished wood floors.

She stopped at the wide entry of a room, waving him in before turning back and returning the way she’d come. Squeak. Squeak.

“Someone should buy that woman some decent shoes.” Pal’s voice came from the corner of the big room.

The old man sat there in a leather recliner, his scrawny legs lifted up, a newspaper spread over his lap. Clear green tubing from an oxygen tank beside the recliner snaked around the chair, finally wrapping around Pal’s weathered face. He aimed a remote at the giant TV screen and turned it off.

“You wanted to see me?” Jason didn’t hesitate.

“Have a seat.” Pal leaned forward and lowered the footrest. “I ain’t gonna get a crick in my neck for this, and I sure as hell can’t get up.”

Jason nodded and took the chair facing the man. He hadn’t brought his briefcase, or anything to write on. He didn’t intend to take this job. Curiosity had brought him here today—that, and the need to make sure this jerk was no longer a threat to his family.

“What did you want to talk about?” Jason leaned back, forcing himself to look casual, uncaring.

“I got business out in your neck of the woods.” Pal slowly folded the newspaper. “I’m heading out there on Monday.”

“I thought you were under house arrest.”

The old man laughed—laughter that dissolved into a fit of coughing. “My attorney’s taking care of that.” He looked Jason in the eye. “I’ll be dead long before they can lock me up. So, what’s the point?”

He probably had a point, if the blue tinge to his skin was any indication. As a corporate attorney, Jason mainly worked on business deals, but oddly enough a lot of business deals resulted from deathbed promises.

“What kind of business are we discussing?”

“My demise. I’m adjusting parts of my will—”

“I’m not helping you screw your family more than you already have.” Jason began to rise. He’d had enough of this man.

“Now sit your ass down, young man.” Pal spat out. “I ain’t gonna take anything away from either of my boys.” Another coughing fit made Pal pause. “I’m talking about someone else.” Oddly, Pal’s eyes and voice grew faded and distant. “Somethin’ I gotta make right ’fore I go.”

Pal Haymaker had a smidgen of conscience? Not possible. “What are you talking about?”

The old man leaned back, spearing Jason with a glare. “I’ll let you know when I get to LA.”

“That’s not much answer, old man.” Jason sat on the edge of the chair, preparing to leave. He had a plane to catch.

“Not supposed to be.” Pal leaned closer. “There’s too many ears in this house.”

Was Pal paranoid, or was there a grain of truth in what he was hinting at? He wouldn’t put it past Pal Jr. to place a spy in his father’s house.

“Here’s the deal.” Jason stood. “You get to town, get in touch with my assistant.” He pulled a white utilitarian card out of his wallet, flicking it with a decisive snap onto the side table. “If you time it right, I’ll meet with you.” He headed to the door. “You’ve done enough damage to this world, so make this good.”

He didn’t wait for Pal to dismiss him. Walking out into the hot Texas morning, Jason took a deep breath, the fresh country air clearing his head of the stink of rotten old man.

“You learn anything?” Chet leaned against the truck’s fender.

“No. He’s as tight-lipped as usual. But Wyatt’s right. He’s up to something.” They climbed into the sun-heated cab of the truck. “He’s heading to LA next week. Wants to discuss the details then.”

“How’s he gonna do that? He can barely move.” Chet drove toward Wyatt’s place.

“I don’t know.”

“Wyatt won’t like it that you’re meeting him again.”

“I don’t recall being accountable to my brother, not since I turned eighteen.” Jason met Chet’s gaze, holding it until the older man looked away.

“It’s your skin.”

They turned into the yard of the ranch, which was a hive of activity. All the siblings were leaving today. Everyone was packing up their things, filling vehicles. Tara was taking Jason to the airport, so he hastily grabbed his bags and slung them in the back of her car.