The Romance Dance: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance

by Burton, Allie

  “I’d love to learn hip hop…” The girl held up her limp hand. “I’ll probably need to start with something simple.”

  The mother rushed to take her daughter’s hand, as if to hide the offending limb. “Sara would really love to dance. I’m not sure she can physically handle the class.”

  Reed quivered, trying to hold back his fury. The mother didn’t believe in her daughter’s capabilities. He clenched his hands into fists. People hadn’t believed in him after the accident. Didn’t think he could ever walk or take care of himself. He’d proved them wrong. He’d completed extra hours of physical therapy. He’d pushed himself.

  He might not be able to ski, but he started his own construction business. A successful business where he labored hard. People had been right about him not returning to the symphony, but he’d made something of himself. He didn’t care for small talk or gossip, so he chose not to go out. Sure, he hid from aspects of his life—out of choice, not capability.

  “As I told Mr. O’Donnell here.” Quinn danced to his side and gripped his arm with both hands. “Everyone can dance.”

  He stiffened. While he felt sympathy for the girl, he didn’t want his own disability displayed.

  “I’m sure Mr. O’Donnell doesn’t have the same limitations Sara does.” The mother sounded insulted and afraid. She clutched her daughter’s hand tighter. Afraid for her daughter.

  Afraid Sara couldn’t keep up or would embarrass herself. Or embarrass the mother.

  The trembling returned. Justified anger for this child raced through him. He hated how the mother placed limits on the child’s abilities. The doctors and nurses had tried to stop him from doing the extra physical therapy, and if they had, he wouldn’t be standing here today.

  Sara needed to discover her own limitations. She should try everything possible. Even dancing. Even if it embarrassed her mother.

  He limped forward. “Actually, I do.” Bending down, pain slashed through his ankle and he didn’t care. He wanted to be at the same level as the girl.

  The mother pulled Sara back. The girl snuck from under her mother’s over-protective arm and came toward him. “Do you have an owie?”

  If only. “Yes, I do. Miss Quinn has promised she can teach me to dance. So if I can dance with a bad leg, you can dance.”

  “That’s right.” Quinn’s eyes shone with unshed tears.

  A glow spread inside him. He enjoyed helping her and this young girl.

  Quinn rubbed his back and he let himself enjoy the contact. “I’ve asked Mr. O’Donnell to dance in the grand opening showcase with me.”

  He jerked to a stand, letting the jagged agony of his injury slice across any good feelings. Turning to gape, his eyebrows practically flew off his face. He forced himself to not scream a big, fat, no-way-in-hell.

  She took hold of his hand and the torment slid away. “Do you think he should do it, Sara?”

  “Yes. Yes.” Sara jumped and clapped her strong hand against her weak one.

  The tepid noise went straight to his heart. The girl believed in him, and he believed in her. He wanted Sara to try to dance, but he didn’t want to be roped in to the showcase. An unrecognized yearning slid through his system, and stopped at his unease.

  “So if he can learn to dance and participate in my show, you can try out a dance class. And if you like it, you can sign up for more.” Quinn’s tone was solid. Her gaze pleaded with the mother.

  So did Sara’s. Her big, brown eyes begged.

  “I guess it won’t hurt to try.” The mother snatched the brochure out of Quinn’s hand and opened it to the sign-up page.

  After the mother finished the paperwork, Sara waved to him. “I can’t wait to see you in the showcase.”

  He couldn’t back out now. His wild thoughts spiraled into tunnel vision focusing on his betrayer.

  Once Sara and her mother left the studio and the door chime went silent, he pivoted toward Quinn. “Why did you set me up?”

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice went higher. Guilt flashed across her face, and color stained her cheeks, embarrassed at what she’d done. “When you told them I’d promised to teach you to dance, I thought—”

  “I. Didn’t. Agree.” He leaned in toward her, only a hairsbreadth distance. “Push-Quinn.”

  “What?”

  “Push-Quinn, like pushpin. Because you’re pushy,” he mumbled, because he really didn’t want her thinking he gave her much thought.

  “You were so inspiring talking about your injury and how it didn’t stop you. So sweet.” Her sapphire eyes widened like pools and his annoyance drowned in them. She placed her hand on his chest, not pushing him away.

  “I’m not sweet.” He’d done his best to stay away from people. To be reclusive. That wasn’t going to end because of Quinn and her stupid show. Because of her hand on his thumping chest making him feel alive again.

  “You’ll break the girl’s heart if you don’t dance.” The disappointment on her face, disappointment in him, caused the thumping to stutter and stop.

  “My pride will break if I do.” The admittance slipped out with his own failed expectations. He’d never be the man she thought.

  “So the inspirational talk was just that? Talk?” She pushed against him, disgust curling on her mouth.

  He didn’t move back. Thoughts tangled and swirled, similar to aleatoric music relying on elements of chance. He’d overcome so many physical challenges since the accident. Pushed and pushed and pushed some more. It was the mental challenges that brought the most anguish. He could deal with the pain of physical therapy, but the internal pain of misguided emotions put his entire body in a twist.

  This was why he’d gone along with Elizabeth’s plans and machinations. It was why he’d holed himself up in Castle Ridge and chosen a new profession where you didn’t need social skills and grace. It was why he chose to work with tools and not people.

  A thrill went up his spine. He wanted to dance with Quinn. The main thought excited and scared him. Spending hours in her arms learning the steps, getting closer. He was also afraid and he hated the fear. “I’ll do it.”

  “Don’t sound so terrified.” She placed her hand back on his chest and his heart beat again. He felt alive again. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

  “How are you going to guarantee that?” His shaky voice was unsure about his promise and his capability.

  “Because I’m going to teach you how to dance with your limp. It won’t even be noticeable.” Her deep-blue eyes pinned him down. Her determination drilled into him, making him believe maybe he could dance.

  Maybe he could do more with Quinn.

  He leaned closer, wanting to test the theory out. Wanting a kiss.

  She didn’t move back or object. Her tongue darted out and licked her upper lip.

  More thrills cruised up his spine, one after the other. His pulse pounded, rushing blood to where it was needed most. Catching his breath, he tilted even closer.

  The door chimed.

  She jerked back, breaking his trance. He glowered at the open door and the person standing there, watching, in his designer jeans and stylish jacket.

  His shoulders drooped and he took a step away from Quinn and temptation. Frustration curled in his midsection. “What’re you doing here?” He wasn’t welcoming.

  Dax rubbed his eyes as if trying to understand what he’d seen. “I came to see you.”

  “Me?” Both Reed and Quinn said at the same time, then scrutinized each other.

  Her red cheeks displayed guilt and surprise. But what she felt guilty about, the almost-kiss or the interruption, he wasn’t sure. He hoped it was the interruption.

  “Quinn, I think.” His brother ran fingers through his hair. “My head’s not totally clear. I thought…” Dax skimmed between Reed and Quinn again, confusion on his face. “I thought I was supposed to ask you out.”

  His brother hadn’t been as passed out as he’d thought last night. Dax must remember some of the conversation. Reed’s
cheeks torched, remembering the words he’d spoken.

  “Maybe I only dreamed last night.” His brother dropped his hand and went to turn around.

  “No, you didn’t dream it.” Glancing at Reed, she stepped around the counter. “We did talk last night. And I did say you could call to make plans.” She shot Reed another glance looking to him for guidance.

  He shifted on his feet. What could he do? Even though Reed had been attracted to Quinn, he hadn’t planned to do anything about it. He’d promised to help his heartbroken brother ask Quinn out. Mutual desire wasn’t supposed to happen.

  He took another step back.

  That’s what he needed to do. Step away. He didn’t want or deserve a relationship with Quinn. His happy-go-lucky brother would be better for her. Dax would take her out on the town and introduce her to people.

  Reed had created a certain type of life for himself. A hermit life. He wasn’t expecting to find love, and he shouldn’t mess things up for his brother because his male needs had suddenly made themselves known. He’d only hurt Dax and Quinn in the end. And if Reed stepped away now, no one would realize his attraction to Quinn. He’d deny desire even to himself.

  That evening, Reed returned to the empty studio to finish hanging the pictures. He’d left minutes after Dax arrived, and hadn’t returned until now. Seeing him ask Quinn on a date wasn’t Reed’s form of entertainment.

  Holding the nail between thumb and forefinger, he banged the nail into the wall with extra force. The thought of his brother holding Quinn in his arms, of them kissing, twisted inside his belly. Eventually, he might end up witnessing their togetherness, their happiness, and bear it as his own form of torture.

  The studio doors chimed and Izzy breezed in. She unbuttoned her light jacket and tossed him a casual smile. “Where’s Quinn?”

  “Hello to you, too.” The un-acknowledgement stung. Did both his siblings like Quinn better than him?

  “Grumpy, much?” Another woman who also wore her hair up most of the time because of her chef’s job. Tonight the reddish-blonde locks fell free. “I’m normally working the dinner shift so since I have tonight off, Quinn and I are going out for dinner. Did you want to join us?”

  The offer tempted. Being with Quinn and his sister would be an interesting revelation. Izzy was about over-the-top fun and flirting, and while Quinn seemed fun, she appeared to have a more serious demeanor. But he needed to stay away from her. She was dating his brother.

  The woman of his thoughts waltzed into the room, making everything brighter. Her eyes lit with excitement when she noticed him hanging her pictures. She graced a smile toward him, and hugged his sister.

  After saying their hellos, she asked, “Are you ready to go?”

  “I was asking Reed if he wanted to join. Do you mind?” His sister’s glance strayed between them, putting two and two together.

  As if putting them together.

  His muscles tensed. They weren’t together and never could be, no matter how close they came to a kiss.

  “Great idea.” Quinn’s rapid agreement had his pulse quickening. “I mentioned to Dax where we were going. He might join us as well.”

  Reed’s pulse slowed to a deliberate lento beat. He didn’t want to be in competition against his brother, because there’d be no competition. Dax was a ladies’ man, and the only reason he’d asked for Reed’s help was because his brother had hit a low point.

  “No, thanks.” Good thing Reed hadn’t answered quickly. “I already have plans.” Frozen dinner, beer, and television. Doesn’t get much better. The thought fell flat in his mind and his gut for the first time.

  “Good for you.” Izzy sounded super-positive, because she knew he never had any real plans, and maybe this time she believed he did. She kissed him on the cheek and said goodbye.

  Quinn gave him a wave. The two women left, talking rapidly to each other, a final female laugh lingering in the air.

  He wanted to reach out and catch the laughter to save for later when he’d be alone.

  Smashing the nail into the wall, he continued to work finishing hanging the pictures. He had nothing else to do. Swiveling around to check on his work, the piano caught his attention. He’d tried to ignore the instrument whenever he was in the dance studio. It was always a looming presence. Taunting him.

  Ignoring the instrument was easier when Quinn was present. He’d much rather watch and think about her than some stupid piano.

  Except Quinn wasn’t here. The piano was. And it called to him in his loneliness.

  In the old days, pre-accident, the piano provided solace whenever he was lonely and upset. While he loved being on the ski team with his siblings, he didn’t put in the extra hours they did. He put in extra hours at the piano. He’d written volumes of music while in his relationship with Elizabeth, most of it tempestuous or sad. The thought of her usually shredded through his mind. Now, the pain seemed less intense.

  In a daze, he found himself standing beside the instrument. The piano had called to him every time he’d been in the room. Tonight, he couldn’t ignore its siren call.

  Probably because of the almost-kiss.

  He sat at the bench and the warm wood felt right.

  Lifting the lid, his fingers thrummed, anticipating the playing. The sound. The joy. He brushed his fingers across the ivories without making a noise. Each key calling to him, play me.

  He glanced around. No one was present. No one could hear him cheat on the vow he’d sworn to never play again. Just this one time. He wanted to forget himself in the music.

  Placing his scarred fingers in position on the keyboard, he took a deep breath and blew the air out again. The scars were ugly, not painful. He’d used his hands to hammer and to paint and to carve. He’d worked hard on his physical therapy to make his hands able and flexible. It was his musical mind that had stopped working.

  That didn’t appear to be the case anymore. He wanted to play, and the music in his head wanted to be heard. His shoulders relaxed. His mind focused. And he played.

  Played as if he’d never stopped.

  The music returned to him filling the room with melodious tunes. Filled his mind with chords and notes and even the dreaded scales. Filled his heart with wonder.

  He ran through old pieces he used to play. He wasn’t perfect, the rhythm a bit off. He didn’t care. Throwing his mind and body and spirit into it, he swayed with the playing. With it came the memories. The joyous concerts, the applause and accolades, the discovery while writing new music. His music. He used to play because his creative spirit wouldn’t let him not play and create. Now, he played again with the same passion, if not the same practice.

  His fingers moved over the black and white keys of their own accord, picking out new chords and arrangements. Something haunting and beautiful. Something new.

  The rhythm in his soul soared. His body hummed with the new composition. He hadn’t been able to write music since the accident. He’d been blocked, and assumed it was punishment for his sins.

  His fingers stalled and the keys clattered together.

  Sins. His sins. Sins that still existed.

  Elizabeth was dead. While he was alive, but not really living.

  Chapter Five

  Quinn paused at the front door to the studio, listening to the piano. The first note stopped her, the chords flowing together in perfect harmony. She’d returned to the studio because she’d forgotten her business cards and brochures to hand out to people. Peering through the glass, she spotted Reed hunched over her piano. His fingers flew across the keyboard like a champion dancer flew across the stage. Shock and the music wove around, tying her up and keeping her in place. She’d thought he’d hated the piano. He’d kicked the instrument the day they’d met.

  His handsome profile stood out from the shadows of the darkened studio. His dark hair flopped in front of his face in an adorable, little-boy way. His eyes were closed, as he played from memory. His mouth set in a line of concentration as if the music
tortured him. His chin dipped and swayed with the tune. Passion branded his expression, and sent tingles of awareness through her bones.

  So much passion. Passion she imagined turned toward her.

  Stretching on her toes, she remembered their closeness this morning. He’d been about to kiss her, until Dax arrived. She’d wanted that kiss. Felt the attraction arc between her and Reed. He’d backed away and backed off, letting his brother have free rein to ask her out. The let-down had her saying yes to Dax.

  Oh, but the feelings Reed poured into the piano had her knees weakening. She wanted him to play her like he played the piano. The way he ran his fingers across the keys, she imagined him running across her skin. His intensity for the music she wanted directed toward her. And his passion—she wanted to experience his passion.

  The intense melody shifted into something more dramatic and haunting and lonely. He picked the keys out, as if he was making the song up. The eerie chords floated in her body and settled in her chest. He poured real emotions into his music.

  This common construction worker wasn’t so common.

  The music stopped, and he slammed his fingers onto a bunch of keys. The harsh din jerked her out of the haunting fantasy and back to reality. Lifting his hands, he punched his elbows onto the keyboard and dropped his head.

  This man was tormented. Why?

  She tilted forward, wanting to soothe and comfort him. To run her fingers through his hair and massage his temples. She wanted to know what had caused his anguish.

  Not now, though. He wouldn’t be pleased to know she’d seen his raw emotions. They didn’t know each other well. Turning, she hurried back to the restaurant, trying to push the image of his sorrow aside.

  “Did you get the cards?” Izzy asked when Quinn returned to the table at the pub around the corner.

  She came to a standstill. The question hit her dazed senses. “No, I…forgot.” She wouldn’t tattle on Reed to his sister. The moment had seemed private for him.

  “Forgot?” Her friend raised an eyebrow, amusement written on her face. “That’s why you went to the studio.”