The Right Thing Easy

by Laina Villeneuve

  Gabe had his arms linked with Dani’s. They rocked side by side, his right hip pressed against her right, both nodding their heads in time to the music. Completely absorbed in the music and each other, he swung Dani in front of him, bumping opposite hips. His height worked to their advantage, and Hope openly appreciated how he worked like a puppeteer, swinging her out and into a move where it looked like they were gazing at each other through a window of their arms. Their eyes were locked on each other, but Dani’s slipped away from Gabe and locked on to Hope’s. She faltered coming out of their window move, but Gabe easily righted her. He looked over toward Hope and smiled broadly when he found her.

  Hope ducked away to find Pauline which was easy since, even seated, her husband towered over everyone in the place. He wore a bright blue Western shirt with a bolo tie and his long black hair loose. She found them at a table right next to the dance floor, four drinks in front of them. Pauline leapt up and gave Hope a warm hug. “Never thought for a minute that you’d actually come.”

  “Hope,” Burley said, raising his drink. He never talked very much, but Hope liked him. Pauline talked enough for both of them, anyway. “You want one?”

  “Just a soda, if you really don’t mind.”

  “Happy to.” He ducked through the crowd in the direction of the bar.

  Hope offered Pauline money for her drink.

  “Makes him feel like the hunter/gatherer equation is balanced,” Pauline said, pushing the bills back to her. “Did you see Gabe out there with his professor? They’re something, aren’t they?”

  “They look great,” Hope agreed.

  “Gabe sure can lead. You should give it a try after this song.”

  Hope didn’t want to remind Pauline of how Gabe had given up on teaching her back when they’d dated. She’d spent more time on his feet than the dance floor and could never match his rhythm. Since Pauline was watching too, she didn’t feel uncomfortable observing them finish the song. They returned to the table they were sharing with Pauline and Burley.

  “Hope! What a surprise,” Gabe said, breathing heavily. He took a long draw of his beer.

  Dani smiled too, and when she sat next to Hope, she briefly rested her hand on her shoulder. “No do-gooding to do tonight?” she ribbed lightly.

  “Pauline said you two dancing shouldn’t be missed,” Hope said, noting that Dani and Gabe didn’t sit particularly close to each other. Gabe didn’t put his arm around Dani like Burley did Pauline when he came back with Hope’s soda.

  “And she’s been wanting to try some line dancing. We’ll get her up for the next song,” Pauline said.

  “That’ll be something to see,” Gabe said. “No two-step for you?”

  “You know how that went the last time I tried.”

  “But that was years ago. C’mon.” He extended his hand, let’s see if I’m any better at leading.”

  Hope took Gabe’s hand, reluctant to leave him hanging. As they walked out on the floor, she said, “You know it was my fault before.”

  He shook his head and pointed at his ear, pretending he couldn’t hear her. Resigned, she took his hand. He bent down and said over the volume of the band, “Quick-quick-slow-slow-quick-quick. Just follow me.”

  “Backward,” she shouted back.

  “I won’t run you into anyone, I promise.”

  “And no fancy stuff.”

  “No ma’am.” He squeezed her right hand and pushed it back, signaling her to move her feet. She chanted his quick-quick-slow-slow, guideline in her head, and they made it around the dance floor without incident. “See? Easy.” She nodded and looked toward the table. Everyone watched, but she swore she felt Dani’s eyes on her. Gabe followed her gaze and bent to talk right into Hope’s ear. “Thanks for sending her out to look at the place. She’s great.”

  “I’m glad you like her.” Hope said. To talk, they had to press closer together again, and Hope noted that while it became easier to follow Gabe in the two-step, her nerves and heart remained quiet, not reacting to his proximity at all.

  “Yeah, it’s like having Kristine around again,” he answered excitedly as he continued on about Dani. The way he looked at Hope made her feel like he was looking inside her, like he meant more than what he was saying with his words. Could he tell that the look Dani had given her from across the room had made Hope’s entire body flush hot with a piercing sting of desire?

  Was he telling her as a way to let Hope know that he had no romantic interest in Dani? Could he somehow know the real reason she’d never been attracted to him? Maybe he was trying to tell her that, like Kristine, Dani was gay. Dani’s gaze had been falling on her like that since they’d met. It was just that Hope didn’t want to hear the message they sent. She’d been right in her first impression of Dani in the library. If it turned out that Dani was gay, she would be in trouble fast.

  Caught up in her thoughts, she was startled when Gabe dropped her hands, fumbling in his pocket, pulling out his phone. He glanced at the screen and then apologized to Hope. “It’s Kristine. I’ve got to take this.”

  Hope started to walk off the dance floor, but Gabe stopped at the table to whisper something to Dani, who got up and met her, arms up. Like Gabe, she took Hope’s right hand and cupped her left shoulder with a dancer’s familiarity. She leaned close, and her voice sending electricity zipping through Hope, she said, “Gabe asked me to take over the lesson. Quick-quick-slow-slow. You with me?” Not trusting herself to speak, Hope simply nodded and allowed Dani to steer her back on to the dance floor to wait out what had to be the longest country song in the history of country songs.

  “You’ve got the steps now,” Dani said, that rich voice liquid heat in Hope’s ear. “Now try to trust that and feel the music. Relax your hips as you move.” Her hand on Hope’s hip, she pressed, emphasizing the movement each time she took a step. “That’s right. That’s much better. It’s easier to spin and turn if your hips are loose. You want to try?”

  “I never had any luck with that,” Hope warned.

  “It’s easy. On the next quick-quick, I’m going to spin you around, and then you go right back into the slow step. Got it?” Dani asked, her eyes holding Hope as much as her hands.

  Lost in that gaze, Hope didn’t answer immediately. “I’ll follow you,” Hope said, her mouth dry. She wasn’t thinking at all, just feeling the beat of the music and Dani’s hand in hers and at her hip. Before she could worry about what her feet were supposed to do to execute the turn, Dani had guided her through it, and they were back to the pattern and moving in the big circle around the dance floor.

  “Pretty good,” Dani said. “But you’re spaghetti, waiting for me to fling you around. Be a rubber band.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “We’re talking through our hands, our muscles. When I push you into a turn, you’ve got to use some elasticity to snap back. Try it.” Hope held her muscles more taut, feeling the way Dani used that tension to move her a little closer and a little farther away from her. “Ready?”

  Hope nodded, mute.

  Dani guided her through another turn. “Better!” she praised.

  Hope’s body tingled as Dani’s intense brown eyes found hers again, and when they dropped down to Hope’s lips, she couldn’t help wetting them with the tip of her own tongue. When she realized what she was thinking, she dropped her gaze to their feet, trying to redirect her thoughts. Halley had said that Dani was a great teacher. Hope convinced herself she was simply reacting to Dani’s instruction.

  That explanation held true until the song ended and Dani let go of her hand. If it were merely learning the steps, wouldn’t she be excited to reach out for Gabe’s hand and try dancing with him again? Instead, the moment she lost contact with Dani, her instincts screamed at her to reach out for it again. Fighting to control the urge, she tucked her hands in her back pockets and followed Dani to the table.

  “Look at you!” Pauline said. “You’ve been lying to me about how you’re a terrible dance
r for years.”

  “You two looked terrific out there,” Gabe agreed.

  Hope busied herself with her drink, not trusting herself to hide the rush of feeling that dancing with Dani had instigated. A floodgate she’d been holding tight finally burst, and she was sure if she met anyone’s gaze, they would know for certain what she was thinking and feeling. “The band really is good, isn’t it?” she said, needing to say something and wanting to shift the attention away from herself.

  She needn’t have worried. Gabe and Dani huddled together and Pauline and Burley shimmied out to the dance floor, Pauline doing most of the shimmying, leaving Hope to bring her emotions into order. The intensity dancing with Dani surprised her and even more so her own willingness to trust her. Had Dani asked for the next dance, she would have had a hard time refusing despite the fact that part of her brain was trying to remind her that dancing with another woman might cause some talk around town. She hadn’t felt like anyone had reacted, and she wondered how much of that had to do with the fact that they’d both been dancing with Gabe. That made her feel safer in what was becoming increasingly dangerous territory, her desire inflamed by someone who was making much more than a temporary appearance in Quincy.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I’ve gotta move,” I announced, grabbing Gabe’s hand and dragging him on to the dance floor.

  “Isn’t it kind of rude to leave Hope alone? We could’ve waited for Pauline and Burley to come back.”

  I glanced back at Hope, praying her eyes weren’t on me. They were. “I like this song,” I said lamely, unable to talk to Gabe about what I was pretty sure was happening. Gabe being the gentleman he is humored me and swung me out like he likes to, showing off, getting the most mileage he could out of half the town thinking we were dating.

  That wasn’t what Hope was thinking about. Gabe’s saying that she’d broken things off with him because of her religion had thrown me, but I was pretty sure watching the two of them dance that she’d broken it off for an entirely different reason. Dancing with her myself confirmed it. She’d been so stiff moving around the dance floor with him but so supple in my hands. Or was I making that up?

  No, there she was again, looking. Watching. I’d been having a lot of fun going out dancing with Gabe, but it had taken dancing with Hope to feel alive. Watching her to gain her trust, I discovered pale freckles close to her eyes. I smiled thinking about how they reminded me of a Pony of the Americas, recognizable by the characteristic speckling around their eyes.

  “Stop thinking about it,” Gabe growled at me. “You’re freaking me out.”

  “I’m not even thinking about your firming up plans with them,” I said, knowing that would get to him more and happy to get my brain away from reevaluating the weight of Hope’s hand on my hip and what that had meant.

  “Stop,” he warned.

  “You have to have a sense of humor about it. I’m sure stress isn’t good for your little swimmers.”

  He started spinning me and just kept twirling my fingers, without giving me any out.

  “Uncle! Uncle!”

  He spun me once more for emphasis, and we danced in silence, our thoughts in really different places. I considered telling him that I hadn’t even been thinking about Kristine’s call, but given his past with Hope, I didn’t think he’d be very much help on the topic. I was pretty sure I was on my own but had no idea what to do with my musing. Whether he was distracted or wanting to avoid conversation with the others at the table, Gabe kept us going song after song. When we finally took a break, he frowned at his warm beer and headed to the bar, offering to grab me something as well. Agreeing to another whiskey, I sat next to Hope.

  “I could watch you two all night. The way you dance…”

  The faraway look in her eye and sweet smile did a number on my heart. What was I thinking? I looked for Gabe, wondering what was taking him so long.

  “You should give it a go again, yourself,” I encouraged. “You’ve got the basics. The rest of it really is just letting Gabe have his way.” Her laugh warmed me, and I searched for something else witty to say to hear it again.

  “He’s in rare form tonight,” Pauline said. “Did Kristine work him up about something?”

  I froze, completely unprepared to field any questions on the topic of Kristine and Gabe.

  “Her leaving put a lot of pressure on him to buckle down and take responsibility for the ranch. I wondered if she was busting his balls about something, having just come into town and everything.”

  I shrugged. “Not that I know of.” I keyed in on the band like a lifeline, not trusting myself to look at Pauline and her librarian’s stare that would surely force me to spill all. I wondered what they taught in library school that allowed them to hone in on troublemakers and liars. I felt like both as I sat there studiously ignoring her.

  Thankfully, Gabe returned with the drinks.

  “How is your sister these days, Gabe?” Pauline asked.

  He set my drink down with such force that it sloshed a bit. His eyes met mine, assessing what I might have said. I tried my hardest to convey that I had shared nothing, that he was safe.

  “She’s on my ass to convince this one,” he thumbed in my direction, “to turn her champion barrel racer into a broodmare this spring. She knows we go dancing Fridays and called to remind me.”

  “And he thinks he can convince you by spinning you until you throw up?” Pauline asked.

  “Something like that,” I said, sipping my drink. The band took a break, and we sat in the quiet, oddly silent ourselves now that we didn’t have to holler to be heard over the music. I felt too close to Hope, too aware every time her eyes slipped over in my direction. I remembered how she’d looked frightened when we met up on the road and how she’d been more relaxed around me since she’d sent me and Gabe out dancing.

  I turned to her as it struck me that she’d stopped by Gabe’s ranch simply to see me, the book in her hand an excuse. That meant the discomfort I sometimes saw was her fighting a serious internal battle. She and Pauline made predictions about the winter based on the first few snows of the season, and Gabe and Burley discussed something about diesel engines. None of them tried to pull me into their conversation, leaving my mind free to work on the puzzle of Hope.

  Her slender fingers traced the beaded water from the rim of her mostly full glass to the table. I still felt those slender fingers at my waist. Was I reading too much into the amount of pressure I remembered feeling? She wore her hair my favorite way, just a tiny bit pulled away from her face into a clip on the top of her head, the honey-colored tendrils escaping and falling softly around her face. The rest fell beneath her shoulders in a soft waterfall. It flowed away from me, and I looked up to meet questioning eyes. How long had she been staring at me staring at her? I smiled shyly, considering her from a very new perspective. That small smile was too much. She started to reach back for her jacket, apologizing that she needed to call it a night so early.

  “Not before I get one more dance,” Gabe said, extending his hand.

  “Gabe…”

  “What if you don’t come dancing again for another ten years? I’ll need another dance to get me through.”

  Burley nodded in time to the song Gabe and Hope stepped out to. I recognized it from backroads country where the stations play what they consider real country, not the stuff that can pass as pop. It had a good beat, and Gabe and Hope did well together, even when he tried a few spins. He put her neatly into the “sweetheart,” and a surprised smile flashed across her face when she realized what they were doing. As they had all night long, her eyes found mine, and I wanted to be where Gabe was. I wanted a chance to press my hip against hers and see if I was right about what she was feeling.

  The song wound down, and Gabe swung her out of the “sweetheart” and kept her feet moving as they started into Keith Urban’s “Kiss a Girl.” I tapped out the rhythm with my boot as they continued to dance, but within one verse, she was stepping all
over Gabe and looked ready to bail. I found myself on the dance floor, intercepting them.

  Without question, Gabe let me take Hope’s hand. Before she could protest, I leaned over and explained. “You’ve got to change your step. Try doing one slow. So quick-quick-slow-quick-quick-slow. Let me show you.” We moved out on the revised step, and she fell into it easily. You wouldn’t think taking out one step would make such a difference, but it did, sweeping us across the dance floor at what felt like breakneck speed. I’d danced it a lot, and I felt reckless, but I knew that was more due to the woman in my arms. Though I should have let her stick with the step, I spun her, and she snapped right around, giving me more confidence. I twirled her into my own “sweetheart,” our arms crossed in front of each other’s body, hips evenly matched. I hadn’t realized that she was barely taller than I am, so her frame just clicked with mine.

  Our bodies were talking to each other. I felt the heat of her and how comfortable she was right there next to me. I was aware of everything in that moment, how perfectly the lyrics matched my own desire to kiss Hope. Completely immersed in that feeling and encouraged by the bit about being ready “to cross that line,” I tried something different. I thought I knew what Gabe did to put us into the “open window” where our left hips touched and we faced each other with one set of hands high above us and one down low.

  I wanted to see her eyes and read whether she was hearing the lyrics like I was. Instead, I tied our hands up in knots. As I tried to untangle the mess I’d made, I came face-to-face with a panting Hope. Our bodies pressed together for the briefest of moments and oh, I wanted more. I longed to wrap my arms around her and to pull her into a kiss. I could almost feel the softness of her lips on mine. Her eyes drifted to them. She was thinking the same thing, I was certain as anything.