Dancing with the Single Dad

Single Dad of Seattle, Adam Eastwood, knows that dance school is just the thing for his precocious daughter, Mira. She already spends most days twirling around the house in a tutu and tiara, why not pay a professional to teach her how to do it properly? Only Adam didn't account for that professional to be the Violet Benson from a very famous New York ballet company. Not only is Violet a natural beauty who floats more than she dances, but she's the kind of woman Adam's been searching for all his life.

“Can I wear my princess dress to dance class? And my tiara? And my cape?
And my light-up princess shoes? Can I bring my magic wand? My fairy wings?”

Adam Eastwood had to stifle a chuckle at the excitement of his
four-year-old daughter, Mira. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. It says here that
dancers are expected to wear tights, bodysuits and leather ballet or jazz shoes.”

“What about a tutu?”

“It says a small ballet skirt is optional.” He grabbed his phone and
brought up the registration email that had shown up in his inbox last week.

Mira abandoned her dress-up box and came to sit next to him on the
couch, immediately running her small hand over his short-trimmed beard. It was
one of her favorite things to do. A sense of comfort for her. After her mother
moved out, Mira had fallen asleep every night stroking her father’s beard. Truth
be told, it’d become a sense of comfort for him too.

“See, baby. It says here no
princess dresses or costumes. Because they’re worried about you not being
able to move enough in the dresses or they might get wrecked.”

Her big blue eyes, with long lashes, blinked a few times as she stared
at the email from Benson School of Dance. She made an adorable pouty face but
finally nodded. “Not even my tiara?”

She couldn’t read, so he pointed at the address. “Says right here, no
tiaras. Same reason as the costumes. What if it fell off and someone stepped on
it? Cracked it?”

“I would be sad.”

“That’s right. So let’s just stick with the new dance outfit we bought
you yesterday, okay?”

Her sigh was big. His daughter was quite melodramatic when she wanted to
be. “Okay.”

He kissed her on the side of her head, her dark hair like watermelon-scented
silk beneath his lips. “That’s a good girl. Now go get changed. Dance class
starts in half an hour.”

She slid off the couch and skipped down the hallway. “Can I at least
wear my princess underwear?”

Adam nodded his head and laughed. “Sure, honey. Go for it.” He pushed
himself up on the couch and wandered into the kitchen to prepare his daughter a
snack for after dance.

It was only a one-hour class, and he would probably stick around, at
least for the first class. But if swimming lessons and her small bout in
gymnastics had taught him anything, it was even the smallest amount of play or
exercise made his picky eater of a child starving.

“Pack my water bottle, Daddy,” Mira called from down the hall. “And a
grolla bar. The one with the chocolate chips.”

Adam rolled his eyes. She knew what she wanted, he had to give her that.
She just went about getting it in a very dictatorial way.

“She’s going to be a leader,” his grandmother would say. “A titan of
industry.”

“Or she’s going to take over a nation and enslave the locals,” his
grandfather would add.

His grandmother would just chuckle, then scoop Mira up in her arms and
plunk her on her lap, nuzzling her hair. “Our tiny Napoleon.”

Mira’s heavy-footed run echoed down the hallway as she ran her
long-legged body toward him. She was tall for her age but all limbs. A bit
gangly, but hopefully she would grow out of that. “Can you help me with my
straps, Daddy? They’re twisted.” She made a face to describe what she meant,
twisting her lips and wrinkling her nose.

He bent down and untwisted the straps of her bodysuit, then grabbed her
skirt from her hands and helped her step into it. “Almost ready to go?”

She was all smiles. “Yep. I just need to get my ballet slippers.”

“Okay, well, be quick about it. We don’t want to be late on your first
day.”

She was already halfway down the hall. “Okaaaaay!”