Instant Bliss: The Moore Family Book 3

grace to at least say ‘hello!’ Standing in front of a person with her jaw hanging open was a new experience.
Could anything have prepared her for the force of meeting Harrison Moore?
She didn’t think so.
The three of them danced around the kitchen, an intricate ballet of movement and work, filling bowls and taking things out of the oven, reaching for silverware and lining the counter with food. Wine flowed and laughter warmed Willow’s still recovering heart.
She couldn’t keep her eyes off Harry and every time she glanced up, she found him watching her. His stormy gray eyes, quick and sultry, tracked her movements. She felt like she did in rehearsal, when the director stood at the front of the studio, taking notes on her performance. Like every one of her actions was being studied and analyzed.
And just as he studied her, she studied him, constantly aware of the space between them. Of the way he moved as he worked, so easy and confident. His quick laughter at Juliet’s gentle jokes. His hesitance to speak before he had a moment to think over what he wanted to say.
Before long, the house filled with Moores. As Juliet introduced Willow to each new family member, she did her best to keep her focus off Harry’s broad shoulders. She failed. Miserably. The man had her attention so firmly gripped in his strong hands, the world could have ended and Willow wouldn’t notice.
“A ballerina, huh?” asked Juliet’s soon to be father-in-law as everyone sat down to dinner. With his salt and pepper hair and distinguished face, Frank Moore had a comforting air that put Willow at ease. “That’s a very disciplined calling.” He infused a heavy dose of respect into his words.
“It is.” She smiled and picked at her salad. “I like it, though. It challenges me.”
“I’m surprised you’ve managed to take an entire week off. Isn’t that close to career suicide for you?”
Frank’s question surprised Willow. Not many people understood the blind dedication ballet required. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Harry studying her and for some reason, it sent a shiver of heat racing up her spine while her stomach did pirouettes.
“We get the last couple weeks of November off. Juliet was awesome enough to schedule her wedding around my break.” Willow set down her fork. “Had she pushed it any later I probably wouldn’t have been able to be here. Next week, we start rehearsal for The Nutcracker, and right after that show closes, we start setting the next ballet.”
Ian lifted his glass. “To The Nutcracker then, if that’s the reason I get to make this woman my wife so quickly.” He took Juliet’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“To The Nutcracker,” echoed Harry, holding up his glass as he met Willow’s eyes.
A wide smile stretched across her face as she lifted her glass in return.
Hell yeah, to The Nutcracker. If that means I’ll be spending a week getting to know Harrison Moore, I’ll toast The Nutcracker all night long.

Chapter Five
Willow
As the Moores toasted The Nutcracker, the still healing lacerations on Ellie’s face caught Willow’s attention. “Are you still in a lot of pain?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that once again, Harry’s attention was locked on her.
Why was he watching her so closely?
Was he as interested in her as she was him?
Or had he caught her staring so many times that she’d made him uncomfortable?
Willow wrenched her focus back to Ellie, who shook her head and shrugged, her dark curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Not like I was. I’m just glad to be able to do things for myself again. I was beginning to think the doctor would never let me off bedrest.”
James chuckled. “Ellie’s not very good at accepting help or admitting weakness.”
“Says the man who—” Ellie hiccupped and buried her face in her shoulder, panic widening her eyes. “Excuse me,” she said, struggling to get up from the table.
James slid his chair back and helped her stand. “Her morning sickness can’t tell time,” he explained with an apologetic grimace. “Come on, sweet Ellie. I’ve got you.” And with that, they left the room.
“Injury must be a constant worry for you,” Harry said to Willow, his voice sending whispers of adrenaline through her veins.
“It is.” She fiddled with her fork, afraid to meet his gaze in case she fell into his eyes and lost her train of thought again. Focus, Willow. You can talk to this guy without making a fool of yourself. “Just last week, I found a girl curled up, sobbing in the dressing room. She’s young. Brand new to the company. Her hip was really bothering her, and she didn’t know what to do.”
Frank grimaced. “What were her options?”
“I suggested she talk to the physical therapist, but I knew she wouldn’t. The PT would tell her to take time off and time off is the kiss of death for us. Especially when you’re new.”
“Have you ever been injured?” Harry asked.
Their eyes locked and once again, everything else in the room dimmed. The gentle conversation from the rest of the family. The sounds of forks on plates and ice in glasses. All of it faded away until it was just Willow watching Harry, watching her. Her answer was taking too long, so she broke eye contact to give herself a chance to think.
Maybe you can’t talk to this guy without making a fool of yourself.
“Luckily, I’ve made it this far without anything career threatening.” Willow licked her lips and tried to come up with a question to shift the focus away from her, but Harry continued.
“I bet you’d be devastated to stop dancing.”
“I would.”
It was the answer she always gave, the one people expected from her…even if it wasn’t completely true. It wasn’t quite that she’d be devastated, but more that she’d be lost.
Her life had been dedicated to dance and she didn’t know what she’d be without it—much less, what she’d do for a living. Sometimes those questions haunted her,