Liz swallowed over the lump in her throat. “Yes, I do.” She wanted that, too, and the kids to go with that domestic scene. “What are we going to do?”
Maggie paused, looking at her quizzically. “We, my dear?”
Liz shook her head once. “I mean you, of course. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get me some lube. And I signed up for ballroom dance lessons.”
An involuntary gasp escaped from Liz. She was still reeling from the lube announcement when Maggie went on.
“You know dancing is really just foreplay. That’s how I met my Patrick. At a Catholic singles dance. And, woo, did we get busy after that.”
Liz’s cheeks heated. “I see,” she managed.
“Dance lessons start tonight,” Maggie said. “Come with me. Maybe you’ll meet someone too.”
She should try to meet someone. “Sure,” Liz said. “Can I bring Rachel along?” If she was going to meet someone, then Rachel had to meet someone too.
“The more the merrier! I got us some condoms too.” Maggie reached for her purse and pulled out a strip of condoms that proclaimed in large print, Extra-Sensitive Lubricated. “Gotta be safe, even at my age, what with the SDTs and all that.”
“Oh!” Liz decided not to correct her on the STDs, just to End This Conversation. “That’s…smart. You keep them. I’m sure I won’t be needing them.”
“I’ll pack a little extra in my purse. Just in case.” Maggie winked.
The doorbell rang. Thank God.
“Come in,” Maggie called. “It’s open.”
Ryan walked in, holding a bag of groceries in each arm. He was early today. “How many times have I told you to lock your door…” He trailed off, looking from one woman to the other. “Hey, Liz, what’s going on? Why are you so red?”
Maggie giggled.
Liz stood and waved him off. “I was just laughing so hard at something your grandmother said. I’d better be going.”
“Bye, Liz!” Maggie called. “She’s a fine girl, Ryan,” Maggie announced right in front of Liz.
Ryan didn’t step out of Liz’s way, and she was forced to turn sideways to slip between him and the loveseat in the tightly packed room. Close enough she could feel his heat.
“She is a fine girl, Gran.” He grinned down at Liz, and her face burned hotter.
“Bye!” Liz called as she hurried out the door, completely rattled. Her mind careened from the strip of condoms to Ryan’s sudden arrival. The timing felt like a sign from above. It didn’t mean anything, it didn’t mean anything, she chanted to herself as she slid into her car and drove away. She could only pray that Maggie hadn’t told Ryan her newest plans. Liz didn’t think she could bring herself to discuss it.
~ ~ ~
Ryan headed into Gran’s kitchen to put away the groceries, thinking of Liz. He could admit it—he wanted her. More than he’d wanted anyone in his life. She was intriguing. Cool and controlled, but at the same time, hot. He didn’t know if many people saw that about her, but he did. She practically sparked fire for him. He knew instinctively how to get hot Liz to come out and play. He knew they’d be good together in bed. And, dammit, she wanted him too. He knew by the way she’d kissed him that night, the way her breathing revved up when they got close to each other. But she’d turned him down flat. Because you’re…what? Whatever Liz had been about to say before her father interrupted, he knew it wasn’t good.
“I’m glad you sent her to me,” Gran said, appearing in the kitchen. “She needs me.”
It was the other way around, but Ryan knew better than to correct her. He inclined his head and pulled the milk and butter out of the bag.
“Any potato chips in there?” Gran asked, peeking into the bag.
“Not unless Dr. Gold is recommending them for your cholesterol.”
“Bah!” She pulled the whole wheat bread out and put it away.
“So, what are you and Liz up to?” Ryan asked, pausing to meet her eyes. He could tell a lie or evasion from a mile away. Gran had a tell—she smoothed her hair in place.
“A little tea, a little conversation,” she said, smoothing her hair back behind her ear.
“And?” he prompted.
“Why do you want to know? Planning on joining us?” Gran asked, hand on her hip, bold in a way she never was before the accident. What happened to the sweet woman I used to know?
“Should I be?” he asked.
“If you like,” Gran answered.
He set the carton of milk in the refrigerator along with some eggs and butter; then he shut the door and turned to Gran. The woman who rescued him and his brothers when they were too young to rescue themselves, who he loved more than anyone, who no harm was ever going to come to as long as he drew breath. “On a scale of one to ten, where does it rank on the danger scale? Ten being a zipline tour.” He shook his head, still finding it hard to believe his grandmother had gone ziplining. And Liz had gone along with it! If that flimsy zipline had broken…he didn’t even want to think about it.
“Zero. Zero danger at all.” She lifted her chin. “We’re going ballroom dancing.”
“Ballroom dancing. That sounds safe.”
“So you’ll join us? I’m sure Liz would like to have you for a partner.”
He snorted. Liz didn’t want to spend any more time than she had to with him. Just look at how she booked it out of here when he’d shown up. Anyway, he didn’t dance. And if she was into ballroom dance, Shane was more her speed. “No dancing for me.”
“Ryan O’Hare, come here this instant, young man.”
He groaned at “young man,” crossed the kitchen, and stood in front of her. “Yes?”
She hugged him, then took his hand. He let her lead him in a small waltz around her kitchen. “You’re my favorite, you know.”
He laughed. “You say that to all of us.”
“You should go for it with Liz,” she advised.
He grimaced. “No advice on my love life, please.”
“She’d make a good wife and mother,” Gran replied as they turned in another circle.
“Whoa. I’m not looking for that kind of responsibility.”
Gran stepped on his foot, probably on purpose. “It’s not about responsibility,” she huffed. “I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.” Ryan stopped dancing and looked in her bright blue eyes. “Are you happy?”
“I am. And I plan on getting even happier.” She smiled, and he had the uneasy feeling she was hiding something.
He paused. Is she sneaking happy pills? Abusing some prescription pain meds from her accident? Better to know and intervene. “How are you going to get happier?”
“Let’s just say I’ve met the instructor, and he seemed delightful.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Hope you learn a lot.” He turned to go. Behind him, he heard Gran giggle. He paused. Maybe he should go to their dance class, make sure she was okay. Nah, what could possibly happen?
~ ~ ~
Liz drove straight to Book It to tell Rachel the good news about this first step into their new swinging single life. The bell jingled as she sailed in, finding Rachel in her office working on her laptop.
She picked up Rachel’s cell from where she’d left it on the desk. “Hello, Universe, thanks for the call. We’ll be there.”
Rachel eyed her. “Where exactly will we be?”
“We’re going to a ballroom dance lesson tonight with Maggie. She said it’s a good place to meet someone. You did say it was time.”
Rachel took off her black-rimmed glasses and cleaned them on the bottom of her blinged-out Reader T-shirt, another of her own creations. The letters were done in rhinestones on a black shirt. Snazzy. She put her glasses back on. “I meant it was time for you. To be honest, I’m still not ready. I have terrible taste in men. Obviously. I didn’t know Drew was a psycho-stalker.”
“Not all guys are stalkers,” Liz said. “And I’ll be there to help you pick out the goo
d guys.”
“How many good guys do you think go to a ballroom dance lesson?” Rachel asked.
Liz thought for a moment. “Actually our odds are pretty good. Probably just guys that are confident enough to brave a room full of women.” She warmed to the idea. “And they’re probably looking for a relationship if they’re willing to do that. This could be very good.”
“I don’t know—”
“Come on, it’ll be fun, or at least interesting. Maggie’s never taken me to anything remotely boring.”
Rachel still looked uncertain.
“You owe me,” Liz said, pulling rank.
“How do I owe you?” Rachel sputtered.
“For inviting Ryan to my birthday party.”
“You wanted him there.”
“I did not!” Liz protested hotly.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll go. But there better be hot guys there!”
Chapter Thirteen
Liz, Maggie, and Rachel entered the Jorge Chavez Dance Studio and took in their fellow dancers. Six women ranging from sixties to seventies, Liz guessed, and a short old man with balding white hair and a beard that he kept way too long, probably to compensate for what he’d lost on top. He was all smiles, liking his chances with this ratio of male to females.
He bore an unfortunate resemblance to a gnome.
“I’m going to kill you,” Rachel hissed.
Liz patted her arm. “Maybe this isn’t everyone,” she whispered. “We’ve still got ten minutes until class starts.”
Rachel shot her a look that promised retribution.
“Come on, girls,” Maggie said. “Don’t just stand there. Let’s go meet the instructor, Jorge.” She glided by in a flowing blue floral skirt that ended just below the knees, paired with a white blouse with cap sleeves. She’d used gel to push her hair into white spikes on top “a la Judi Dench,” as she said.
Liz looked down at her usual button-down shirt and tailored pants and wished she’d thought to buy a flowing skirt. It would spin and twirl so nicely when dancing. She mentally added it to her to-do list, though she’d wait for it to go on sale at summer’s end. Rachel wore a red V-neck short-sleeve sweater that showed off her cleavage, paired with a denim skirt that was definitely too tight to twirl when she danced.
They followed Maggie across a shiny hardwood dance floor. The room was large and mirrored on three sides. In the center of the dance floor, a fiftyish man with slicked-back black hair, a black tank top, and tight black pants danced a complicated spin and dip move with a twenty-something woman wearing what looked like a real ballroom dance outfit—a one piece skin-tight red dress with a flared skirt. The dress was sleeveless and had large keyholes on the sides, showing even more skin. Her shoes were red leather strappy heels. How did the woman dance in those things? Liz much preferred her practical ballet flats.
Jorge looked up at Maggie and set his dance partner back upright. His teeth gleamed white against his golden tan when he smiled. “Maggie,” he crooned in a slight Spanish accent that was just this side of romantic. “You came. Lovely to see you.” He kissed Maggie’s hand, and she preened under his attention. Jorge turned to Liz and Rachel. “And who is this?”
Maggie introduced them with a huge smile.
“Lovely to meet you, Liz.” He leaned in slightly, smiling.
Liz held her hands behind her back to avoid any hand kissing. “Nice to meet you.”
He glanced at her posture, but remained unruffled. “Rachel.” He kissed her hand. Rachel waggled her eyebrows at Liz. “And this is my assistant, Arianna.”
“Welcome,” Arianna replied. “If you enjoy the trial class, please see me after about signing up for lessons.”
“We’ll be with you shortly,” Jorge said. “Please have a seat.” He gestured toward the row of folding chairs on one side of the dance floor, and Liz hurried toward them, with Rachel trailing behind.
Maggie was still talking and smiling at Jorge by the time Liz sat down. Then she gave a little wave and, with a slow swaying of her hips, positively sashayed to the chairs. Sashayed! And Jorge noticed, pausing in his conversation with Arianna to watch.
“Maggie,” Liz whispered when Maggie sat down. “Exactly how do you know Jorge?”
“Isn’t he handsome? A fine man. Very fine.” Maggie fanned herself with her hand.
“Yes, he’s handsome. But how do you know him?”
“He’s my neighbor’s nephew. I met him when he stopped by to do some yard work for her. And does he have muscles!”
Jorge looked up at that and winked.
Maggie blushed.
Omigod.
“Oh, great,” Rachel muttered on the other side of Liz. “The one cute guy here has the hots for her.”
“He heard you,” Liz warned Maggie. “Keep your voice down.”
“I know,” Maggie replied. “I wanted him to hear me. Don’t keep your light under a bushel. Let it shine, girl. Let it shine.” She said this while eying Jorge like he was some candy she couldn’t wait to unwrap.
And devour.
Liz couldn’t believe she was witnessing this. Was Maggie really going to get lucky before she was? The last time she’d had sex was with her cheating ex-fiancé, who thought foreplay was squeezing her butt while whispering, “Let’s do it,” in her ear.
A few more senior citizens arrived. Oh, wow, pinchy-lipped Diane and sweet Pam from knitting class were here. Liz gave them a little wave.
“Oh, I told Pam about the class,” Maggie said. “Didn’t know she’d bring Diane,” she added under her breath. “Hi, ladies!”
Diane stared while Pam smiled and waved enthusiastically.
Liz took stock. Ten women, plus the three of them, made thirteen women and one gnome. She exchanged a grim look with Rachel.
As luck would have it, the gnome was named Richard. “Call me Dick,” he told Liz, “everyone does.” He seemed to think he and Liz belonged together because their names matched Liz Taylor and Richard Burton. Never mind the fact that she was blond, whereas the famous Liz had been brunette. And then there was the non-gnome appearance of Richard Burton. None of this deterred him. He claimed her for every dance.
Maggie had no sympathy to spare. She was too busy purposely doing the moves wrong, so Jorge would feel the need to correct her.
“You must get the rhythm of it,” Jorge said, rolling the r in rhythm. He stood behind Maggie now, hands on her hips, guiding her in a box step. “And one, two, three.” She got the hang of it pretty quick, and he turned her around for a forward-facing waltz. “And one, two, three.”
“I think I’ve got it now, Jorge,” Maggie said, gazing up at him under her lashes. “You’re such a good teacher.”
They continued to dance.
He smiled lecherously while she giggled flirtatiously.
It was nauseating.
If Ryan saw the way they were carrying on, he would kick some ass. Poor Rachel was dancing with Miss Pinched Lips Diane. Pam was dancing and chatting with a tall, willowy woman, looking like she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
Liz worked on moving her way over to Jorge and Maggie, but Dick was difficult to redirect. She endured a tango that involved Dick’s face pressing too close to her breasts—an unfortunate combination of his stature and his enthusiasm.
Miss Pinched Lips glided with Rachel to Liz’s side, only to dip Rachel suddenly and hiss at Liz, “You think because you’re young and pretty you can just steal the only man.”
Liz’s mouth opened in shock.
“Hey, let me up!” Rachel yelled.
The sour woman pulled Rachel upright and whirled away.
Finally, finally her time with the gnome ended as Jorge announced the end of class.
“Never again,” Rachel said to Liz as they exited the dance floor.
“Maybe a different class would have some guys our age,” Liz offered. As long as the gnome wasn’t there, it could be good. She actually liked the dancing part. With the right partner…
<
br /> Rachel stared at her. “Read my lips, never again.”
Dick headed straight for Liz, and she braced herself. He pressed a business card into her hand. It read: Dick Wittleman, Connoisseur of the Finer Things. She shuddered to think of what “finer things” he meant.
“Here’s my number,” he said. “Call me.”
“Oh! I have a boyfriend,” Liz said. It was the only way she could think of to tell him not now, not ever. “But, um, nice meeting you. I’d better catch up with my friend.” She grabbed Rachel, whose shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter, and speedwalked to the desk, where Maggie was talking to Arianna.
Apparently, Maggie was signing up for ballroom dance and a series of four private lessons from Jorge. Liz didn’t even want to know what might go on in those private lessons. Maggie was a speeding dynamo of determination and newfound libido.
~ ~ ~
Maggie called the next morning to see how Liz liked the dance class. “I liked the dancing,” Liz answered truthfully, “but my dance partner was a little pushy. I don’t think I’m going to sign up for lessons.”
“Now don’t you let Dick deter you,” Maggie replied. “Dance with someone else next time.”
“You mean one of the other women?”
There was a pause. “I’ll get my boys to come along. You’re right; we need more men in there.”
“No! I mean, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure they don’t want to go dancing anyway—”
“They’d do it for me.”
Liz’s heart squeezed. She loved Maggie’s confidence in her grandsons.
“And if they’re all busy,” Maggie said, “could you still drive me? My night vision is terrible. I shouldn’t be on the road.”
“Oh, of course! I want you to be safe.”
“Good deal, then. I’ll see you next Thursday.”
“Okay,” she replied with a sinking feeling. What had she just agreed to? She knew once she got there, Maggie would insist she come inside. Would she be forced to dance with Miss Pinchy Lips or Dick? Or one of the O’Hare guys?
Relax, she told herself, Shane was the most likely one to go. And Shane was the kind of guy she should be with anyway. It would be fun to dance with him. He never made her feel off-center and jittery. She never made a fool of herself in front of him.
The Opposite of Wild Page 11