The Perfect Ingredient (Dare Valley)

by Ava Miles

“And now I see your taste in movies has changed too,” his friend drawled. “Jill, since you’re being more forthcoming than my friend here, tell your old pal what’s going on.”

  Dr. Evil would never rule the world with that mouth. She spilled the whole sordid story to his friend in under a minute. Rhett settled back against Jill’s desk, crossing his cowboy boots at the ankle.

  “Looks like a pretty nice dance movie marathon you have there, bubba.”

  “You can laugh all you want, but I’m not doing it.” He threw the movies down on Jill’s desk. “No woman is worth this shit, and no man is supposed to parade around in front of a bunch of women wiggling his hips like some jackass while they laugh at him.”

  “That’s two hundred dollars, T,” Rhett said, stroking his chin.

  “I damn well know how much it is.” He was losing his cool, and he knew it. Taking out three hundred, he took a deep breath.

  “Our friend, Rye, has made a career out of taking his shirt off and wiggling his hips in front of the ladies, if you recall.”

  “I’m not Rye.”

  “No, but I’ve never seen you back down from a challenge.”

  Rhett re-stacked the movies and handed them back to Dr. Evil, who was trying her best not to laugh out loud.

  “You’re not thinking straight,” Rhett finally told him. “No one is going to expect you to know all the moves. Right, Jill?”

  Dr. Evil sat on her desk. “Nope. Most of the women don’t, even the regulars, and certainly not the new routines.”

  “See! When I used to play against players better than me, what did I do?” He pointed to his massive chest.

  “I don’t know. You brayed like a jackass.”

  Dr. Evil laughed, and Rhett patted her thigh.

  “Sort of. I turned the tables on them. Threw them off their game. Did something outlandish, something guaranteed to upset their rhythm.”

  Jill started to hum. “I see where you’re going with this.”

  Terrance slashed his hand through the air. “Well, I don’t. I have to get back to the kitchen.”

  “And who’s coming to town this weekend for his bachelor party who knows how to strut his stuff in front of a whole bunch of women?”

  “Oh, shit,” he said, “Rye.” And out came another hundred for his Cuss Fund.

  “That man sure knows how to move,” Dr. Evil commented, bouncing up and down now. “You could learn from him, Terrance.”

  Pointers from one of country music’s biggest stars? For a second he was intrigued, and then he said, “No way. I don’t want this disaster leaving this room. I’ll go to Elizabeth’s class on Monday night and hole up in the corner. Do my best to get through.”

  Rhett stood up and crossed the short distance between them, towering over him. “You need to man up. One rooster in a flock full of hens never goes unnoticed.”

  Terrance slapped a hand to his forehead. “Where do you get such lines? Is Popular Hick Sayings for the Day a daily email blast I’m not signed up for?”

  “Be nice, bubba,” Rhett said. “We’re only trying to help.”

  Deep down, Terrance knew that. But he still wanted to get the hell out of Dr. Evil’s office. The next song in the routine had come on. How was he supposed to hold up his head after gyrating to “Man! I Feel Like a Woman?”

  “Okay, I’ll keep practicing with my lovely choreographer at lunch and see how it goes.” But he wasn’t doing the movie homework. No freaking way. “As for Rye, all he wants to do this weekend is hang with his boys, eat, and play poker. I know. He’s already sent me a list of things he wants to eat.”

  No one appreciated food like Rye Crenshaw.

  “You might be surprised by what Rye wants to do once he knows all the options. And if you feed him, of course.”

  “I’ll kill you if you tell him.”

  Rhett’s laugh was like a movie villain’s. “Then prepare yourself to be charged for first degree, since I have a witness right here.” He slung an arm around Dr. Evil herself.

  Rhett was so going to tell their friends.

  Chapter 14

  Instead of playing poker at Rye’s bachelor party, what were they doing? Talking about Terrance’s upcoming dance class.

  Clustered together in the large salon in The Grand’s penthouse, the guys were reclining on a massive sectional, beers in their hands. Rye had arrived with his friends from Dare River: Clayton Chandler, who helped manage his career, and John Parker McGuiness, who served as his lawyer and sometimes songwriter. The trio had known each other since college, and Terrance had met them through Rhett and Mac over a game of poker.

  Rhett had sold him out to the guys without pity. Clayton laughed so hard, he had to wipe tears from his eyes.

  “You’re dancing for a date?” he wheezed out. “I know Vixen is—was—hot, but seriously, T, have you gone plumb crazy?”

  Their Southernisms never failed to amuse him. He knew the term was different than the plums that grew on trees, but Terrance had no idea how anyone had come up with such a phrase. Still, he wasn’t about to crack a smile anytime soon.

  “I think it’s romantic,” John Parker said, the only one who wasn’t laughing uproariously.

  “You would, preacher kid,” Clayton said.

  “Now you all can see why I insisted Terrance turn the kitchens over to his sous chef for lunch so he could join us,” Mac said with a knowing glance at Rhett.

  “Exactly! Rye is the perfect man to help you, T,” Rhett said, his lips twitching. “He’s made a fortune wiggling and shaking on the stage.”

  “Good God, Rhett, you make me sound like a jellyfish. What you’re referring to are professional moves.” With that, he stood and rolled his hips from right to left with a wink.

  This only brought on another wave of laughter.

  “Rhett,” Terrance said, “I swear I might not murder you—who wants to rot in prison?—but I will slip a diuretic into one of your drinks at the hotel while you’re playing poker. You’ll have to leave the table and forfeit the game to go to the bathroom.”

  “That’s just plain evil.”

  Apparently he’d learned something other than dance moves from Dr. Evil.

  Clayton lifted his glass. “I love it. Even Mac’s laughing, and it’s his hotel.”

  Mac settled back against his Italian leather sofa. “When you do slip Rhett a mickey, I want you to let me know. We might have to close the men’s room for cleaning.”

  “Now that’s just mean,” Rhett drawled.

  Rye was being oddly quiet, stroking his chin and staring at Terrance in a way that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention.

  “What do your female fans love about you the most?” Rye asked. “Besides your ability to cook?”

  “My wicked sense of humor,” he responded dryly.

  “Try again. Your body, my friend. Don’t women ask to see your tattoos when they run into you in real life?”

  He so didn’t like the way this was going.

  “I’ll bet some of them have even gotten griffin tattoos just like yours, right?”

  When Terrance got the tats in high school, he’d chosen the griffin—a mythical creature that was half eagle, half lion—for two reasons. The lion had kick-ass courage, and the eagle could soar. They represented his plan to fly out of his bad neighborhood and land in a better place.

  “Yes, some have,” he said, “but it embarrasses the shit out of me.”

  He fished out another hundred and placed it in the crystal bowl Rhett had appointed the Cussing Jar. Being around his friends had made his mouth revert back to its old ways. His Cuss Fund had definitely put him in the red this weekend.

  “You need to turn the tables on Elizabeth. Take your shirt off and move like you know what you’re doing—even when you don’t.”

  “No f-ing way.” Parade around shirtless in front of a bunch of women? His friend was nuts.

  “Stand up,” Rye said like a drill sergeant, giving him an assessing glance. He a
dded insult to injury by circling him. “You need to wear something designed to drive the women wild. If they’re so hot for your body, none of them are going to match the beat. How about no shirt and some tight bike pants?”

  His ears were growing hot. “No way I’m parading around like that in front of a bunch of women.”

  “You sound like a choir boy,” Clayton drawled. “Come on, T, where’s that badass attitude now?”

  Dammit, he’d never been able to pass up a dare. “Fine.” He tore his shirt off. “Satisfied?”

  The men whistled, and he had the urge to cross his arms over his chest.

  “Cut it out,” he yelled.

  “I think you have a plan,” Rhett drawled.

  Terrance rounded on his friend. “No way am I dancing without a shirt on in front of a bunch of women.”

  “Afraid to start a stampede?” Mac joked.

  “Shut it, Maven.”

  Rye drew off his own shirt. “Okay, now you’re not alone, T. Show us the dance moves. We’ll practice with you. Clayton? You game?”

  “Why not?” He shrugged and tossed his shirt aside, then ran his hands over his chest in a flirty pantomime. “Who wants me?”

  The other guys started to laugh, and even Terrance felt his mouth twitch. “You’re all nuts.”

  Rhett rose to his feet and set his beer aside. Moving his arms and hips like he was a human choo-choo train, he strolled toward Terrance and scared the crap out of him by lifting his shirt up inch by inch. “Come on, now, you know you want to see it.”

  The playful shove he gave his friend only made everyone laugh harder. Soon they were all snorting and holding their bellies.

  “Mac Maven, it’s your turn to show us what you’ve got,” Rhett cat-called.

  “No way in hell. And if you try and undress me, which only a crazy bastard like you would, I’ll have my wife arrest you for sexual harassment.”

  Rhett clucked his tongue. “Since I know you mean that, consider yourself a bystander. J.P.?”

  “My mama might lose her job at the church if word gets out that I participated. Consider me another bystander, but please…feel free to show Mac and me what y’all got.”

  If they were on reality TV right now, their ratings would be through the roof. Here Terrance was, standing shirtless with one of country music’s biggest stars and two other men who were wearing only cowboy hats and tight jeans.

  “He has the video Jill took of the class,” Rhett told everyone.

  Dr. Evil could have been a spy. She’d used her smart phone to capture the routines so he could practice them in secret.

  “Can’t you keep your mouth shut for once?” he fired back.

  “Give it up, T,” Rye said. “I need to see what kind of moves we’re talking about here. Hand over your phone, or we’ll go digging for it.”

  They would too. He held it out without a fight.

  Mac rose and took it. “I’m going to call our audio expert for the hotel up here to hook the video up to the big screen TV. He’s discreet, although I can’t imagine what he’ll think when he walks in on this crowd of shirtless wonders.”

  Never let anyone say Mac didn’t run a tight ship because five minutes later, Jerry had everything hooked up. Terrance almost felt bad for the guy. His eyes had nearly popped out of his head when he walked through the door.

  When the video started to play, Terrance was reminded of the reason he was going to all this trouble.

  Elizabeth.

  She was so beautiful, laughing as she started to warm up the class with a sway here, a twist there. Her moves were so sensual his mouth went dry.

  “Holy hell,” Clayton drawled. “She’s even more beautiful than I remembered.”

  “Let’s keep it clean,” Rhett replied. “She’s like my sister.”

  Rye stepped closer to the big screen. “She sure can move. Come on guys, let’s line up and nail this even though the music is going to give me a migraine.”

  The Grammy-winning singer stumbled through the steps just like the rest of them. After seeing how much some of the men were struggling with the hip movements, Terrance felt better. He wasn’t the only one who sucked at Latin dancing.

  After fifteen minutes, Rye paused the video and turned to look at the other men. “T, you’re going to need help. No way you can learn to move like that in a few days. If we all go with you, the focus won’t all be on you. You’re right. You don’t want to look like an ass in front of your woman.”

  “Go with him?” Clayton drawled. “We’re leaving on Monday, Rye.”

  “We can leave after the class.” He nudged Terrance with an elbow. “Our friend here needs some wingmen. Who’s with me?”

  Clayton groaned. “I guess. Rhett?”

  “Is my name Butler?”

  “Yessah. Now we really need to learn these moves,” Rye said. “Maybe I can use some of these steps in my upcoming tour, but dear sweet baby Jesus, who picked the music? I love Shania Twain, but this is like party music for a rabid women’s group.”

  “Apparently Elizabeth created a bunch of new routines just in case I decided to show.” Devious little hellion that she was.

  “She’s got sass,” Rye said. “My fiancée has the same quality.”

  “Tory would do something like that too,” Rhett mused.

  “That’s why I’m marrying her.” He grinned like the lovesick fool he was. “Now call your teacher and see if she can come in for a lesson today. We’re going to need her help.”

  Unleash Dr. Evil on four shirtless men? He might as well call in a hurricane. Or a missile strike.

  “Not a good—”

  “I’ll call her,” Mac said, interrupting him. “I have her on speed dial.”

  Was that glee in Maven’s voice?

  “She’s the mother of baby twins,” Terrance protested, desperately wanting to put a shirt on now. Dr. Evil was going to have a field day with them.

  “Hi, Jill,” Mac said and headed out of the room.

  Uh-oh. What in the world was his friend saying to her?

  Thirty minutes later, a knock sounded on the door to the suite. When Rye opened it shirtless and stepped aside, he had his answer.

  Dr. Evil had brought friends. Mac’s wife and Rhett’s, Natalie Hale and her sisters, and Meredith Hale. Now there were more than half a dozen witnesses to his disgrace.

  His evil dance instructor picked a few kernels of popcorn from the bag in her hand and popped them in her mouth. “We heard there was a show.”

  Leave it to Jill to bring her own popcorn. He wasn’t even going to ask where she’d gotten it.

  “Come on in, ladies,” Rye said grandly, bowing at the waist. He made introductions all around, even though some of the men and women were well acquainted, as in married.

  The ladies hustled in, some blushing, some drooling, and only one keeping a straight face. That would be Peggy, Dare’s deputy sheriff.

  “Thinking about quitting your day job to start stripping, Chef T?” she asked, and even he saw her mouth twitch. “That’s illegal in this state. I’ll have to bust you. Just a warning.”

  “He’s going to need a lot more practice if he’s going to make a living on tips,” Dr. Evil commented.

  “That’s pretty low,” Natalie said to her cousin. “Are you as bad as she thinks, Terrance?”

  Great. Now the women were going to judge him. “Maybe we can order up some score cards like the ones you used at the tasting.”

  “We were all at lunch when Mac called,” Natalie told him. “Girl chat. Then we got a better offer to come watch all you studs.”

  Her sisters nodded, and he knew what it felt like to be a piece of meat.

  “Okay, boy wonders,” Dr. Evil said, walking to the head of the room like the dictator she was. “I see you’ve been watching the video of Elizabeth’s class. I’ll rewind a bit, and you can show me what you’ve learned so far.”

  Their backs were to the other women—except for when they had to do those embarrassing
turns where they slapped their butts like they were riding ponies—and Terrance could tell most of the women were fighting the urge to laugh. Well, except for Abbie, Rhett’s wife, who was blushing, sweet lady that she was.

  Dr. Evil could learn a thing or two from her.

  When she stopped the video, Dr. Evil put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “Crenshaw, you have moves, but your salsa needs work. Chandler, your hips have the thrust move down pat, but you need to circle them more. Butler, you look like a chicken trying to stoop when you throw your hands out.”

  The men groaned. Yeah, they’d laughed at him before, but now they understood her nickname.

  Terrance held his breath when she finally stared him down. “Waters. You’re looking a lot better. You must have watched Dirty Dancing. Keep up the good work.”

  And with that, she turned the video back on and dragged her sister to the front. Meredith’s pregnant body moved a heck of a lot better than Terrance would have thought, given the basketball she was carrying in front.

  His Chippendale brothers in crime glanced over with a snort and mouthed, Dirty Dancing?

  Dr. Evil needed a new name. Something worse…much worse.

  Abbie and Peggy sat with Mac and John Parker as Dr. Evil continued to walk them through the new steps.

  When Natalie and her sisters got their fill of gawking, they joined them in the routine. Natalie bumped Terrance with her hip. “I used to be a big fan, but now I think I’m an admirer. I’ve never seen any man do something this romantic.”

  He grimaced. “She may still turn me down.”

  His new friend only shook her head. “Not a chance. And by the way, I’m going to stay at my mom’s house on Monday night. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from this class. I have a feeling my sisters will do the same.”

  At the rate they were going, they should sell tickets.

  Chapter 15

  Jane was coming to Elizabeth’s Monday night class. Latin dancing wasn’t her favorite workout, but she’d agreed to make an exception in case Terrance made good on his word.

  One of the women leaving the previous class opened the door to the studio, but Jane stopped Elizabeth from going in by tugging on her arm.