Dance in my Heart

by Jones, Marjorie

  Chapter Six

  Hawk seated Candice at a small table in the center of the crowded diner, then took the seat opposite for himself and grabbed the menu. He’d spent nearly an hour with the three boys who came to see him while she perused the hoop dancing books he’d loaned her.

  He still felt tense. He admitted to himself it wasn’t his guilt alone which made him stiff with tension. He still wanted her. Were they alone right now, he would take on the tabletop. He really should be taken out and shot.

  “Thank you for the books,” she offered.

  “No problem.”

  “You’re not still upset about this weekend, are you?”

  “Who me? Nah. I’m a rock.”

  She laughed. “Good. Because you didn’t offend me in the least. I know how these things work.”

  How these things work? He hated her thinking of him like that. He’d never had a one-night stand in his life. Not that he hadn’t had the opportunity, but he was raised better than that. Women were something to be treasured, not used. And he’d used her. Given the chance, he couldn’t swear he wouldn’t do it again.

  The light, spilling from the picture windows behind her, cast a halo effect around her golden hair. She looked like an angel and he’d treated her like a whore.

  “So what’s good here?”

  He cleared his throat before answering and shifted his position in the chair. His entire body ached to hold her, one very specific aching part of his body wanted to do more than that. “The turkey club, or if you have a real appetite, the chili burger is good, too.”

  “Hey girly, whatcha doing here with Tonto. You his parole officer?”

  Hawk’s body tensed for a whole new reason at the slur. He fisted his hands, nearly ripping the menu he held in his white knuckled grip.

  To her credit, Candice ignored the remarks and continued to scan her own menu.

  “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

  Hawk sensed her lack of comfort. She had no idea what to do, he reckoned. She’d probably never been faced with this sort of blatant racism in her whole, sheltered, white existence.

  “Just ignore him. That’s Wiley Cotton. He’s an asshole.”

  She swallowed, and replied with a barely perceptible nod. “We can go somewhere else.”

  “I don’t run from assholes.”

  She leveled her gaze on him and he felt the impact of her eyes to his core. “But it bothers you.”

  It wasn’t a question. How did she see inside him like that? The connection they shared unnerved him, but he couldn’t lie. “Eya’. Yes, it bothers me.”

  The waitress stopped by Wiley’s table before she came to take their order. “I’m sorry about that, Mike. You want me to give him the boot?”

  “No, Leslie. It’s okay. I wouldn’t want to cost you your tip,” he answered as he smiled at the woman he’d known since high school. “I’ll have a chili burger and a Coors. And for the lady?” He looked at Candice and noticed her eyes misted as she studied the menu like it was the missing Dead Sea Scroll.

  “A salad,” she completed for him, her voice hoarse. “And a Diet Coke with lemon?”

  “Sure thing, hon. Dressing?”

  “Vinegar and oil, please.”

  When she handed the menu to Leslie, the laminated card-stock shook wildly. Candice put her hands in her lap and glanced at him. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly.”

  “No, you’re not. But don’t worry about it. His bark is worse than his bite.”

  “How do you put up with something like that? I mean, I’ve covered stories from Moscow to the Middle East, and I’ve never seen anything so vicious.”

  “You’ve been lucky. This is nothing, Candy. Really. Ignore him.”

  “You must be the most laid back guy I’ve ever met. Does nothing rile you?”

  “Sure. Lots of things.”

  Men who take advantage of lonely woman and skulk off into the night without so much as the proverbial ‘thank-you ma’am’, for instance.

  “Like what?”

  “Let’s see. This week, it’s the unemployment rate on the res. We’re up to eighty-nine point four percent this month. And then there’s the teen pregnancy rate. That’s down to eighty-four percent. I’m saving my temper-tantrum about alcoholism until next month.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  Their drinks arrived and she took the wrapper off her straw. She used the straw to sink the lemon wedge in her coke before she took a sip.

  “It’s getting better,” he shrugged. “This is the seventh generation. A time for change and prosperity. The new kids, the one’s coming up now, are savvier than their parents and grandparents. I’m hoping within a few years, things will really start to change.”

  “So what exactly do you do?”

  “Like the fake gold plastic on the door said. I’m a social worker.”

  “Okay, so you take children away from their parents and you’re the safe-sex poster child.”

  Her reminder of their liaison sent a tremble down his spine. He did his best to ignore the continued pulsing in his groin. “I don’t take children from their parents unless I have to. Most of the time, we can change a few habits and return the child to her home. But sometimes, yeah. Sometimes, just like in the rest of the world, the child is placed permanently. Mostly, I co-ordinate youth activities, sponsor education workshops, counsel the kids and their parents. That sort of thing.”

  “What kind of activities?”

  Leslie placed a large salad in front of Candice. He shifted his weight back and took his elbows off the table so she could set his chili burger in front of him. He lifted the top bun and removed most of the chili before he replaced it and took a bite.

  “Lots of things. Last month, we took the youth group rock-climbing. The month before, we went to the Mall of the Americas.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “I guess so.”

  “It wasn’t?”

  He suddenly wished he hadn’t brought it up. Two of his female teen-age charges had been caught up in a scuffle at the movie theater and suffered more taunting insults than Wiley’s limited brain could ever come up with. The girls had cried nearly the whole trip home. He’d done his best to console them, but he couldn’t take the burning impression of the local boys’ hands off of them. Where did these kids learn this shit? Sexual assault at the age of fifteen was inexcusable.

  “No. It was great,” he lied. He’d already shattered Candice’s illusions more than enough for one afternoon. She didn’t need to hear about something this dirty.

  “You’re lying, but that’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

  He looked into her eyes. He still couldn’t figure out how she knew so much of him. But then, he’d always been a lousy liar.

  They finished the remainder of the meal in friendly silence.

  Candice pushed her nearly empty plate away, and reached for her wallet with trembling hands. Her mind whirled with the memories of his expert touch and nimble fingers. Her pulse raced in a cadence reminiscent of the drums he’d danced to on Saturday. It was as if he danced in her heart.

  “Put your money away. I’ve got it.”

  He placed a twenty-dollar bill on the table and reached for her hand, apparently to help her to her feet. He threw a wave at Leslie, the waitress.

  “See ya later, Mike,” she called from behind the register.

  “She seems nice,” Candice offered. “Have you known her long?”

  “Since high school.”

  Candice weighed the possibility that they had dated, surprised at how much she didn’t appreciate the possibility. A hand reached out and held her arm, stealing her wayward thoughts back to her surroundings. She looked at the hand and followed the large arm with her eyes until she glared into the face of Wiley Cotton.

  “Whatcha gonna leave with him for? You his squaw woman?”

  “Let her go, Wiley,” Hawk spat from her side. “Now.”

  Wiley’s expression turned ominous, but
he did release her arm. Gaining his feet, he matched Hawk’s height, but his girth boasted too much beer instead of solidly packed muscle.

  “It’s okay, Hawk. Let’s just leave.” Tension grew in her belly as he watched the two men face each other, one man’s expression as deadly as the other. They wouldn’t fight right here in the diner. Would they?

  “You better do as she says, Tonto. ‘Fore you get hurt.”

  “Shut up, Wiley,” a man shouted from the door. Candice’s eyes instinctively shot in the direction of the newcomer.

  A uniformed sheriff’s deputy stood in silhouette as the heavy metal and glass door eased closed behind him. The deputy continued speaking as he removed a pair of wire rimmed sunglasses. “I mean it, Wiley. Not another sound, or I’ll take you in.”

  “On what charge, Carl. Speaking?”

  “On whatever charge I damn well please. Now sit back down.” To Candice, he said, “Miss? If you were on your way out, I suggest you continue on your way.”

  Candice raised her face to Hawk’s, searching his eyes for his intentions. She may not know him well, but she’d been around men enough to know each one had his limit of patience. Had Hawk reached his?

  “Go on. I’ll be out in a minute. I’ll meet you at your car.”

  As she stepped away from Wiley and Hawk, the deputy pushed the door open.

  The diner, rife with tension, grew increasingly silent as patrons caught on to what was happening at the booth by the door.

  Hawk closed his fists at his sides. Wiley Cotton was hardly worth his time or his energy. He’d never before allowed his bigotry and ignorance to get under his skin quite like this. But when he’d touched Candice, Hawk thought he would explode. He sensed Carl’s slow approach and reluctantly turned his gaze to his old friend.

  “Your lady friend is waiting.”

  The words were more than a statement. They were Carl’s invitation for Hawk to leave the diner.

  He would leave. He’d been on his way out anyway. He gritted his teeth and stared into Wiley’s eyes as he spoke to Carl. “I’m going. But if he touches her again, I’ll kill him.”

  He stalked out of the diner, his temper raw and callused. Where the hell had that come from? He’d just threatened a man’s life in front of a law enforcement officer. That would look terrific on his resume.

  Candice sat behind the wheel of her car, cranking the engine. He slid into the seat beside her. She stopped turning the key and shifted her weight to better face him.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m great. How are you?”

  She smiled. He was being an ass, and he knew it. She took his tense demeanor in stride, though. Most women would tell him to shove it, but she seemed to sympathize with him. Just being this close to her made everything better.

  She reached over and patted his thigh before turning the key one last time. The engine roared to life and she pointed them back to the reservation. If he had any hope of escaping the invisible net she threw to him, he needed her to leave. Soon.

  Only one problem with that plan. He didn’t want her to go anywhere. Except, maybe back to bed.

  Chapter Seven

  The drive back to the reservation seemed to take less time than when she first arrived. Candice pulled her rented Corsica into a parking space in front of Hawk’s office. Her eyes fell onto the bright red Indian motorcycle parked horizontally directly beside the building. How had she missed it earlier?

  It didn’t matter, really. What mattered was she didn’t want to say good-bye to Hawk. Her stomach clenched with remembered passion.

  “Here we are.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

  “Yeah, here we are.”

  She reached into her satchel and removed the books. “Thanks for letting me photocopy these.” She handed him the books and his hand brushed against her fingers as he took them from her. Heated shockwaves raced up her arm and settled with tingling intensity in her breasts.

  Please, don’t say it? Don’t say good-bye.

  “I’m glad I had a chance to see you again. I really am sorry about the way I left.”

  “I’m glad too,” she whispered before clearing her throat. “And please, stop apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  He offered her a tentative grin. When he leaned toward her, her breath caught in her chest. Was he going to kiss her?

  Please, let him kiss her. An instant later, he shoved open the car door and climbed outside. Leaning into the window, he stared into her eyes. “I’m glad I know you, ozawahn weenessisee.”

  She didn’t have time to answer before he disappeared into his office building. Her heart shattered into pieces, searing her from the inside out. She already missed him.

  The sigh trapped in her lungs finally escaped. Dwelling on the impossible would get her nowhere. She should have learned that lesson when she and her husband called it quits. She thought she had, until she met Hawk.

  She turned the ignition key, telling herself things would be clearer in the morning.

  The engine stuttered, then died. She pumped the gas pedal twice, then tried to turn it over again. A clicking sound echoed through the cabin. She backed off and tried again.

  More clicking.

  This time, the clicking slowed, until, when she tried a third time, nothing happened. No click. No roaring engine. Nothing.

  Great. Now what?

  She leaned her forehead on the steering wheel and glanced sideways at the red brick building.

  ~* * *~

  The clock ticked time away as if nothing mattered. Maybe the clock was smarter than him, but Hawk couldn’t shake the feeling he’d just thrown his whole life away. She was probably half way back to her hotel by now. He smiled ruefully. The way she drove, that might not be an exaggeration.

  Actually, only ten minutes had passed since he left her in the car. He already regretted not kissing her. He wanted to taste her again. He needed it.

  Unable to concentrate, he packed several files into his black leather backpack and shut down his computer.

  He didn’t even have a picture of her, he sighed. Damn, but he was a wimp. His own thoughts sounded like the idiotic, pubescent ramblings of his boy’s group.

  Get over yourself. She probably won’t even remember your name next week. He threw his pack over one arm and headed out of his office.

  “I wouldn’t ask, but my cell phone died, and I just need to call a tow truck.”

  His head snapped up at the sound of Candice’s voice in the lobby. His feet carried him swiftly in her direction of their own accord. She spoke with Celeste, looking a little sheepish and entirely beautiful.

  “You won’t get one to come out here this late. At least, not for a tow clear into the city,” he answered. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s officially dead, I think. I’m no mechanic, but at the very least, the battery is dead, and I’m not real keen on driving half a day on borrowed power.”

  Were the spirits trying to tell him something? Twice now, he’d left this woman and twice she’d come back through no design of her own. If he were his brother, Adam, he’d consult the spirit world. But he wasn’t a dream-walker, like his older brother. He was just a man with gut reactions. And right now his gut told him to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

  “Well then, it looks like you’re stuck here. I have room at my place.”

  Certifiably crazy. He really should seek help.

  Still, he held his breath as he waited for her reply. She hesitated and then took a step in his direction. “Are you inviting me to spend the night at your house, Hawk?”

  “Eya’. Yes.” His heart felt like it would explode. He tried to cover his anticipation by leaning easily on the counter.

  “Are you going to be there when I wake up?”

  “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

  “In that case, I’d love to.”

  He felt like a little boy on Christmas as his mouth spread into a huge grin. He felt like dancing. �
��Good. Here, take this,” he handed her his motorcycle helmet. I only have the one, so you better take it.”

  “Take it?” she quizzed him.

  “Yeah. You wear it on your head,” he smiled. “When you ride on a motorcycle. You know?” He hinted with a fair dose of sarcasm.

  “You want me to ride on the back of your motorcycle,” she replied.

  He laughed at the inflection in her half-statement, half-question. “Of course. How did you think we would get there?”

  Her eyes widened for a split second before she squared her shoulders as if she prepared for battle.

  “Have you never ridden on a bike before?” he hedged, taking her elbow and leading her toward the door.

  “Well, sure,” she cleared her throat. “I mean, the kind you pedal. The ones that go really slow and don’t take high-octane.”

  “Well, then, Candy, you’re in for a treat.” He smiled as he pushed open the glass door.

  The wind had picked up in the last few minutes. Dark clouds circled on the horizon. The whipping snap of the American flag on top of the building cracked like a bottle-rocket above their heads.

  “You better grab anything you need out of your car. You can put some things in the saddlebags.”

  Candice had ridden in a tank once. She’d flown on a zip line in the Amazon, stood twenty feet from the edge of a live volcano and once, she’d even scuba dived with a Great White shark. But she’d never had the nerve to climb on the back of a motorcycle.

  Insane. She thought she’d be terrified, but instead, her lips spread into a wide grin as she lifted her laptop and camera from the backseat of the car, locked the doors and pocketed the keys.

  A very few minutes later, her items stowed neatly in black leather satchels covered in silver tooling and fringe, Hawk lifted one leg over the seat of the bike. He lifted the heavy machine with apparently little effort and settled it between his muscular thighs. She closed her eyes as her stomach shifted against her ribs. An image of his naked, sinewy flesh flashed in her mind. Her trepidation about riding behind him wasn’t the only thing making her palms sweat.