“Max loves Drum and feels compelled to give back to the community,” I said. “Take tonight, for example; and Tutoring Club is a way for us to support Drum’s most important resource—our children.”

The couple exchanged a glance. “Do you tutor high schoolers?” Kay asked as she turned back to me. “Our son Spencer is in summer school, repeating English and social studies so he can start his freshman year in August.”

An idea popped into my head. I felt guilty for even considering it, but I figured it would be a win for everyone. “I usually work with elementary and middle-school students, but I’d be happy to meet with him and see if I can help.”

“What experience do you have?” Donnie asked.

“I worked at a tutoring center in Atlanta before I moved to Drum last year. I confess, most of the kids in my group are significantly younger, but I’m willing to meet with your son one on one.” I smiled. “The last thing he needs is to be coming in with the younger kids. I’m sure a tutoring session will be hard enough for him to accept.”

“I don’t know,” his father said, his gaze sweeping over me. “Somehow I think he’ll be okay with it.”

I resisted the urge to cringe. I didn’t want to encourage a fourteen-year-old boy to have a crush on me, but I could also put a stop to it fairly quickly. “I have time tomorrow if Spencer does.”

“He doesn’t have summer school tomorrow. Will late morning work?” Kay asked.

“Sure,” I said. “I’m not sure if the electricity will be back on by then, but we can meet outside at one of the tables.”

Kay made a face. “I was hoping you could come to our house. I realize that’s an imposition, so we’d be happy to pay you twenty dollars an hour.”

“Now, Kay, wait a cotton-pickin’ minute,” Donnie protested.

“He’s failin’ summer school, Donnie,” she said, seething. “Neither one of us can help him. If she can…”

He pressed his lips together.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” I said, “when did Spencer start falling behind? I’ll see how he’s doing where he’s at, but it might help to know how far back this goes.”

They exchanged another look, then Kay said, “Spencer was in an accident a little over a year ago. He missed a month of school.” She hesitated, her mouth twisting as though she struggled with how much to confess.

“He was arrested,” Scarlett said knowingly. “He didn’t go to jail or anything, but he was in bad trouble.”

“Scarlett!” Kay hissed, giving her a feather-light smack.

The new band began playing an uptempo country song.

“It’s okay,” I said with a smile. “I really don’t care about the reason. It’s just helpful to know for context.”

“I truly hope you can help him,” Kay said with tears in her eyes.

“I’ll do my best,” I said truthfully. “And if I don’t think I can, I’ll be sure to let you know so we can hopefully find someone who can.”

She reached across the table and clasped my hand. “Thank you. You’re an answer to my prayers.”

My guilt resurfaced. While I did intend to help him, I’d made the offer with ulterior motives. I glanced back at Marco’s table, surprised to see he was approaching us. A quiet anger simmered in my chest. Didn’t he trust me to handle this?

“Sorry to interrupt,” Marco said as he reached the table, “but the band’s playing our song.” He held out his hand to me with an apologetic look.

“Of course,” Kay said, grabbing her purse and pulling out a receipt.

“Marco,” I said trying to swallow my anger in front of the Genslers. “This is Donnie and Kay Gensler and their daughter, Scarlett.”

Marco tipped his head to them. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Let me just jot down our address.” Kay scribbled her address down, then pushed the receipt to me. “Will eleven o’clock work?”

“That works perfectly for me.” I took the paper and tucked it into my pocket.

“Thank you. You’re a godsend.”

“I say that every day,” Marco said, tugging me out of my seat and away from the couple, toward the dance area.

“What on earth was that about?” I asked, speaking as low as I could and still be heard above the band, barely restraining my anger. “You know this was a golden opportunity!”

“Carly—” Wrapping an arm around my back, he turned me to face him as we reached the edge of the dancing crowd. “—I know, but—”

“If you’re going to be a controlling—”

He leaned down and kissed me. When he lifted his head, worry filled his eyes. “Carly,” he said, starting again now that he had my attention. “Bart Drummond is here, and he’s watching your every move.”

My mouth fell open, and I realized I could practically feel his gaze burning a hole on my back. I turned my head to the side and caught a glimpse of him with his wife, Emily. They were waiting in Max’s drink line, and both of them had their attention on us.

Chapter Twenty-Five

We began to move to the country song about a man and his truck and something about a cow. Despite my worries, I laughed. “This is our song?”

He laughed too. “You know I’m pretty fond of the Explorer.”

I lifted my brow. “And the cow?” My eyes narrowed. “That better not be me.”

“Never.” He released my back and grabbed my hand, spinning me out and then reeling me in, catching me with my back to his chest. He placed a kiss at the base of my neck, and a shiver ran down my spine.

“If Bart hangs around much longer, I say we leave,” he whispered in my ear.

“And if he leaves?” I asked breathlessly, torn between wanting to take Marco home and wanting to stay and enjoy a rare night of frivolity.

He wrapped an arm around my stomach and turned me around to face him. “I’m dying to get you home, but I also know that nights like this are rare. You deserve to have fun, Carly, to forget about everything for at least a few moments, and I’m determined to make sure you can.”

“I love you,” I said, losing myself in his blue-green eyes.

He smiled. “I love you too.”

“Get a room,” teased an older man I recognized as a customer as he danced near us with his wife.

“I would, Barry,” Marco said. “But I heard you rented the last one at the Alpine Inn.”

Barry and his wife laughed, and we laughed with them, and I let myself forget that Bart was watching me. He knew I was with Marco, so there was nothing I could do about that, but I could at least deny him the satisfaction of knowing his presence was bothering me. So I laughed and danced and occasionally caught a glimpse of him while Marco spun me around the lot. I wanted Bart to see my happiness, but I couldn’t help feeling like I was poking more hornets’ nests.

The song we were dancing to stopped and Jerry tapped Marco’s shoulder. “Excuse me, but can I cut in?” He was wearing a clean pair of jeans and a button-down shirt that looked brand new. His hair was neatly combed, and he looked happier than I’d ever seen him.