“What kind of talents do you have?” I asked, and she looked at me, her eyes impossibly large. “Avery?”

“Do tell,” Jacob coaxed.

Brit jumped. “Talents are fun.”

“They can be.” I was thinking about all the talents I had that I was more than willing to share with her as I bent my head. There was only a mere inch or two between our mouths, and her soft sigh trilled through my blood. “Tell me what your talents are, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart,” Jacob murmured, sighing.

“Dancing,” she said. “I danced. I used to dance.”

Curiosity poured into me. What were the chances? “What kind of dancing?”

“I don’t know.” She grabbed the package of Skittles, dumping them into her palm. “Ballet, jazz, tap, contemporary—that kind of stuff.”

“No shit?” Jacob’s brows shot up. “I did tap when I was like six, for about a month, and then decided I wanted to be a fireman or something like that. That shit was hard.”

Brit snickered. “I tried dance and discovered I had no coordination or grace beyond shaking my ass. Were you any good at it?”

Shortcake shrugged, her gaze fastened to the pieces of candy. “I took classes for about ten years, did some competitions and a lot of recitals.”

“Then you were good!” Brit exclaimed. “I bet you did all those crazy turns and tricks.”

I couldn’t believe it as I stared at her. She was a dancer. I never would’ve thought it, because all the dancers I knew were overflowing with confidence, but it explained the lean muscle I had spied in her legs, the kind of tone that never really went away.

“My sister did dance since she was around five,” I told her, somewhat amazed. “Still does. I think she’d cut someone if they made her stop.”

She finished off the Skittles, nodding. “Dancing can be addictive if you like it.”

“Or are good at it,” Brit interjected.

I bumped her shoulder with mine, drawing her attention. For her to be dancing for that many years, I was surprised that she talked about it in the past tense. “Why’d you stop?”

A far-off look appeared in her stare, and I knew that where she was at that moment, it wasn’t in the present. I’d seen that look creep over her a lot and I always wondered where she went in those moments.

Finally, she shrugged again as she went for the M&M’s. “I guess I got tired of it. Does your sister do competitions?”

I didn’t believe her. Not one bit. Dancing was in the blood, but I didn’t press it. Not right now. “She’s traveled all over and spent the summer at the Joffrey Ballet School on a scholarship.”

“Holy shit!” Her mouth dropped. “She must be damn good.”

Full of pride, I smiled. “She is.”