by Kait Nolan
“Relax. Eyes on mine. You’re thinking too hard about what you’re doing.”
“I told you I’d be terrible at this.”
“You’re not terrible. You haven’t stepped on my feet once. Norah would’ve broken three toes by now.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “Seriously?”
“God’s truth. I love her to death, but woman can’t dance to save her soul. Admittedly, she did try to warn me.”
“Was that before or after she and Cam got together?”
He considered. “Mmm, well, before they told anybody they were together, anyway. Details are rather sketchy as to when they actually coupled up. Now Cam, he’s got some rhythm. He and Tyler will be our big competition.”
“I figure everybody will be big competition. And what’s with the easy jazz? Jive is more upbeat than this, isn’t it?”
“It is, but you’ve gotta crawl before you can walk. I need to get a sense of how you move. How well you can follow direction.”
She stumbled again and made a growling noise before breaking away to pace across his living room. “I suck.”
“Were you able to balance at the top of the pyramid your first day as cheerleader?”
“No.”
“Okay then. You learned that, and you’ll learn this. Come here.”
Sinatra rolled into Dean Martin.
Corinne sighed and took his hand again.
“It’s hard to trust a partner you don’t know. So why don’t we do a little Q and A?”
“Okay.” But she drew the word out, as if she wasn’t sure what he’d ask.
“What is your favorite food?”
She relaxed a fraction. Had she really thought he was going to go somewhere deeply personal right off the bat?
“Fried calamari.”
“Seriously? Squid?”
“Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it,” she shot back.
“Touché. I’m a bit more prosaic. Pizza. In every possible form. It is the world’s perfect food.”
“Kurt would be inclined to agree with you. My turn. You’ve always been into dance and theater. I remember from back in school. Why? What’s the draw?”
“Well, apart from the fact that it’s fun, and the fact that I knew how to dance meant I never had to worry about getting a date for stuff, I guess I love it because it makes makes me feel good. Dancing always made me smile.”
“Didn’t the jocks hassle you?”
“That’s two for you, little missy. But I’ll answer anyway. No, they mostly didn’t. And that was on Brody. Playing football, he straddled both worlds, so I guess that bought me a pass.” He ignored how she stiffened again at Brody’s name. Brody was a part of his world, and she’d just have to get used to it. “Okay, let’s see. What were your favorite movies as a kid? The ones you could quote all the way through?”
Her answer was instant. “Footloose.”
“Reaaaaally?” he drawled. An idea was forming in his head. “What did you love about it?”
“I appreciated that Ariel ultimately bucked her restrictive parents. Plus, it’s fun.”
Lot of identification there. But he didn’t want to bring it up because she’d finally stopped thinking about what her feet were doing and was actually following his lead.
“I’m more of a Singing In The Rain kinda guy.”
She eyed him. “I can see that. You’ve got a bit of Gene Kelly air about you.”
“Why, Miss Dawson, am I to understand you like old movies?”
“I do. I used to watch them with my grandparents, before they passed. My grandma adored Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire.”
Tucker spun her out, then back again. “Looks like you’ve got a bit of Ginger to go with my Fred.”
Surprised pleasure flickered over her features. “I did it.”
He grinned. “You did indeed.”
“Then I concede. You’re very good. I suppose the cockiness is justified.”
“Helps that you’re a natural. You’ve got good rhythm and good awareness of your body.” He had a good awareness of her body, too. With a spin and a dip, he finished the dance and stepped away before she gained too good an awareness of certain parts of his. “I can absolutely work with that.”
Striding over to the fridge, he grabbed a couple of bottles of water, tossed her one.
“Thanks for being a patient teacher,” she said.
“Thanks for being a good student.” He took a long pull of water. “Can I ask you something?”
“Oh, are we still playing Q and A?”
“Why didn’t you fight back when Whitney got in your face?” Tucker regretted the question the moment it fell from his lips because the light that had sparked in her eyes went out.
Corinne shrugged. “Whitney’s not wrong.”
“You’re not that girl anymore.”
Her gaze tracked to his. “You’re the only one who believes that. Why?”
“I’ve got eyes. Give them time. They’ll see.”
“I appreciate your optimism,” she said dryly.
In the awkward silence, he cursed his big mouth.
Corinne stepped into the breach. “So do you have any ideas on music? I’ll bow to you on this.”
“Yeah, I’ve got some thoughts. I’ll let you know for sure tomorrow. I made a few calls, got us in to the fellowship hall at the Methodist Church. We’ll need more floor space to practice than we’ve got up here. What time works for you?”
“I need to work around my shifts at the diner and studying for the exam, not to mention spending time with Kurt. I’ve seen so little of him this past semester.”
Tucker could see how the guilt weighed on her. And he realized rehearsal time would likely cut into much needed work hours for her at the diner.
They settled on a practice time for the next day. “I promise I’ll have some choreography ready, and we can play the rest by ear.”
“That’s fine with me. Despite your ability to channel Gene Kelly, it’s probably only going to be for the next week anyway. I don’t quite have the same faith you do.”
He tapped his half empty water bottle against hers in a toast. “Then I guess I’ll have to have enough faith for the both of us.”
~*~
For one blessed hour between 9:30 and 10:30 on Monday morning, after the breakfast rush was past and before the early lunch crowd trickled in, Corinne finally got a chance to slide into the booth across from Malika and study for her licensure exam. She hadn’t looked at the material since Friday, splitting her weekend between Kurt and rehearsal with Tucker. This wasn’t going to cut it. That she’d been studying her ass off for a year didn’t matter. She needed to have this material down cold, which meant finding more study time. Somewhere. She could make do with four hours of sleep. She’d done it before.
Corinne squinted at the list of practice questions and read the next one off. “To facilitate drainage of oral secretions in a child who had cleft lip repair, the nurse should place the child in what position? Supine, Side-lying, Trendelenburg, or High-Fowler’s?”
“Side-lying,” Malika said.
“Correct.”
“When communicating with children, what most important factor should the nurse take into consideration?”
Cracking a yawn, Corinne answered without hearing the choices. “Coffee. How much coffee she’s had.”
Malika laughed. “I thought you were supposed to have more time for sleep since clinicals were over.”
“I was delusional.”
Mama Pearl set down a tray carrying three cups and a pot of coffee before sliding into the opposite side of the booth with a sigh that had Corinne wondering if she’d been on her feet more than she’d claimed. “Drink up.”
“Bless you. But I could’ve done that.” She reached for the pot, expertly pouring a cup for each of them. “How’s your ankle?”
“Fine.”
Which had been her stock answer since the incident had happened.
“So what’s
the plan for this here test?”
“I’m waiting on school to send transcripts to the testing center so I can register.” And there went a couple hundred bucks she didn’t really have to spare. She couldn’t afford to screw up this first attempt. “Meanwhile, we’re studying.”
Mama Pearl took a slow sip of coffee. “Can’t have much time for that, while pulling double shifts and practicing for the competition.”
She’d hit the nail on the head, so Corinne didn’t argue with her. What was there to say?
“Competition?” Malika asked.
“I’m the diner’s representative for a local fundraiser.”
“I’m pulling you off second shift,” Mama Pearl continued.
“What?” No. She needed the money, needed to make up for the hours she hadn’t been able to work during the semester. “But Mama Pearl, I—”
The older woman waved a hand. “Hush now. I’m not finished. I’m the one got you into this competition. It’s for the diner, so it counts as work. I’ll be paying you for all the time you’re putting into it.”
Corinne bristled. Had Tucker said something? He knew how worried she was about fitting everything in.
“I don’t want a handout.”
Mama Pearl sniffed. “It’s no such thing. I’ll get more mileage out of this competition than a whole passel of newspaper or radio ads. I want the publicity, which means I want my team to win. Which means y’all need time to practice. So hush yo’ mouth and deal with it.”
There was no arguing with The Tone. Greater men and women than she had tried and failed.
“’Sides, you need to be spendin’ some time with your youngin. I got no intention of taking you away from him any more than you already are.”
Corinne’s throat went thick with gratitude. Mama Pearl Buckley was the other person who’d been unfailingly kind to her since she’d come home. Direct and prone to sharing hard truths, maybe, but at the root, always kind. She’d given Corinne a chance to show she was no longer the misguided girl she’d been. And Corinne had to believe that eventually, hopefully, others would follow her example.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Ain’t nothin’ to say. You just put your all into this competition. I got a side bet with Cassie over at The Grind and I want bragging rights, damn it.”
Corinne huffed a laugh. The coffee shop was the other primary gossip center in town. The owner, Cassie Callister, was in a permanent competition with Mama Pearl for the crown of Gossip Queen. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
Mama Pearl shoved to her feet and picked up her coffee. “I’ll let y’all get back to your studying.”
Corinne watched her shuffle back toward the counter and realized she wasn’t limping. At all. “Your ankle.”
“It’s better.”
At that level of improvement, Corinne wondered if it had been sprained at all in the first place. Had she been played? “Then you could dance.”
“Child, these old bones cain’t move the way they need to to win this competition. Yours can.”
Realization slammed into her like a freight train. “You set me up!”
“I ain’t confirming or denying.” Which was as good as a confession.
“Why didn’t you just ask me?”
Mama Pearl turned knowing eyes in her direction. “Would you have said yes?”
No. No, she’d have found some way to get out of it because she already had a million things on her plate.
“That’s what I thought.” Mama Pearl nodded to herself, as if confirming the wisdom of her actions. “Now you’re in it. The officially registered representative of the diner. And you finish what you start. So go dance and do us proud.”
She would. Of course she would. But… “Why me?”
“I told you—”
“I know what you said about Darlene and Cindy. But really, why me?”
“Two reasons. First, you’ve been hidin’ long enough, lettin’ folks pick and poke at you for what amounts to ancient history. It’s time you got out there as who you are now and held your head up high. You’re making a life for yourself and your little boy, and that’s something to be proud of.”
Her throat went thick again. “And the other?”
Mama Pearl winked. “Because you could do with a little fun, and Tucker McGee offers that in spades.”
Corinne was still gaping as her boss swung through the door into the kitchen.
This was a matchmaking attempt? It was one thing to get such a thing from her mother. Marianne would look at Tucker and see nothing but his position in local society, his success as an attorney. But Mama Pearl?
“Tucker McGee? The hot attorney who was all defending your honor last week?” Malika shoved her books aside and leaned forward on both elbows. “Tell me all.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
One brow winged up. “Am I gonna have to get the scoop from Mama Pearl?”
“We’re only dance partners.”
“Right, because Mama Pearl thinks you could use a little fun. Which, by the way, I am in full agreement with.”
“I don’t have time for ‘a little fun’, the euphemistic kind or otherwise.” And seriously, calling Tucker “a little fun” was like saying Godzilla was a little lizard. She’d laughed more during their rehearsals this weekend than the last three months combined. Tucker was… He was… Charming. Funny. He’d grown into the gawky, long limbs she remembered from their youth. And that smile…
She wondered why she’d never noticed him in high school. She’d seen him, of course. Known who he was. They’d been on student council together. He’d been the class treasurer. But she’d never really seen him. Probably because he was usually attached to Brody, and when Brody was around, she’d never been able to see anyone else.
“And yet you’re about to be paid to have it.” Malika’s teeth flashed in a delighted smile.
“She’s barking up the wrong tree.”
“Why?”
Corinne blew out an exasperated breath. “Because even if I had time for something—which we have established I don’t—he’s out of my league. He’s not interested in me. Why would he be? A college drop out. A single mom with a less than pristine past. Nobody wants that package.”
Malika’s expression darkened. “Don’t make me come across this table and kick your ass. That’s my friend you’re talking about. Who is an awesome mom to an even awesomer little boy and who just finished one of the most rigorous nursing programs in the state, while working full-time. You set out on your own to start over after life blew up on you. That makes you one of the bravest people I know. So make all the excuses you want about not having time, but don’t you dare act like you’re not worth his attention.”
One corner of Corinne’s mouth twitched. “I’ll consider my ass kicked. I love you.”
“Love you back.”
But as she turned back to her textbooks, Corinne couldn’t help but think that dancing with him made her remember she was still a woman, not merely a mother. She hadn’t expected that and wasn’t entirely sure she liked the reminder.
Forget it, she ordered herself.
After the competition was over, however long they lasted, Tucker McGee would go back to being entirely out of her league. And that was fine because she had more important life stuff to focus on. Like passing the NCLEX and taking care of her son.
Mind made up, she turned to the next page of questions. “A nurse caring for a client with a platelet count of 60,000 should observe for which initial finding…”
Chapter 7
“We’re going first?” Corinne’s voice rose to a squeak. “How did that happen?”
“Luck of the draw,” Tucker told her.
She wrapped her arms tight around her ribs and paced a small circle in the “backstage” holding area The Babylon was providing for the dancers. Her breathing was too shallow for his taste. Around them, the other competitors talked quietly as event volunteers moved in and out of the room, carr
ying on last minute prep for the show.
“It’s no big deal. Think of it like a pep rally. You ought to be used to being the first to hype people up.”
She stopped pacing and glared at him. “At a pep rally, I had a full squad of other cheerleaders.”
Wanting to put her mind at ease, Tucker crossed over and took her by the shoulders. “Don’t worry. You absolutely nailed this routine in practice.”
“No one was watching in practice.” Her teeth worried at that full bottom lip.
Tucker wanted to kiss it to soothe the hurt. Shaking his mind away from that idea—whenever he did kiss her, it wouldn’t be in front of an audience—he rubbed his hands down her arms in a gesture he hoped was comforting and kept his voice low, for her ears only. “I’ve got this. I’ve got you. Trust me.”
Her head canted to the side, awareness flickering in those pretty, sky blue eyes, along with a hefty dose of confusion and uncertainty. Because they both knew he wasn’t just talking about the dance. And this was so not how he’d planned to approach all this.
“Mommy!”
At the sound of the happy shriek, Corinne turned away from him, her face lighting up like Christmas morning. “Kurt!” She opened her arms and her three foot firecracker flew into them. “Hi baby.”
Kurt pulled back. “Grandma brought me to see you!”
“I see that!” Corinne looked up as her mother approached. “Thanks for bringing my cheering section, Mama.”
Tucker had seen Marianne Dawson around town over the years. In a town the size of Wishful, how could he not? But he hadn’t actually interacted with her since high school. She was an older, harsher version of her daughter.
“Past his bedtime, so we’ll go after you’re through,” she said. Not a word of actual encouragement. Which was pretty consistent with how he remembered her treating Corinne back then. He suspected nothing had changed in that department.
“Well, that works out because we’re up first.”
Tucker recognized the fake it ’til you make it smile Corinne pasted on.
“Hey Tucker!” Kurt lifted his hand and, to Tucker’s surprise, flawlessly executed the complicated fist bump they’d come up with the day they’d played HORSE.