“My mother never imagined this is what I’d end up doing, Curious Quinn.” His stilted answer made her wonder. His too-blank expression told her he was hiding something.
She ignored the new nickname. “You said your parents moved to Florida before you and your brother and sister moved back to Castle Ridge.” The three siblings appeared to be close. She couldn’t imagine the parents not being part of it. “Where did you move back from?”
He didn’t answer right away. The music played on and she was content being in his arms. Very content.
“New York.” He spat.
She leaned back to see his expression. Why hadn’t he mentioned this before? “New York City?”
His lips puckered, as if tasting something sour. His eyes darkened. He twirled her around in a flourish. “Yes.”
The answer was as surprising as the advanced dance move.
“We might’ve met or passed each other on the street.” She studied his tall frame and broad shoulders in flannel shirt and jeans. In her New York world, most of the men were thin and lanky, strong. Not big like Reed, though. Dancers, not construction workers.
“I don’t think we ran in the same circles.” Sounding offended, his movements stiffened.
She wanted to bring the more easygoing Reed back. The one who’d offered to dance and agreed to perform in her showcase. “Were you in real estate and construction there?”
His movements halted altogether. “Which reminds me, I have work to do.” He removed his hand from around her waist.
A chill ran from her waist up her spine. He didn’t want to answer her questions. He wasn’t an open book. He’d allowed her to read the first few pages, but because of her insistent questioning, he’d slammed the book closed.
He tugged his other hand out of hers and she slid her hand off his shoulder, releasing him. For now.
While she’d been asking questions, he’d been dancing without instruction. He knew how to dance. The puzzle of Reed grew deeper. She wanted to dig down and figure him out, put the pieces together.
Why? The internal question shook her, trembling traveled from her head to her toes. None of the other men she’d dated ever had her so intrigued. Why did Reed?
* * *
Reed was almost finished attaching the barres to the walls in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors in the dance studio. Good. Because he was tired of looking at himself. He couldn’t help noticing how much he’d changed from the accident. The limp was pronounced, but he’d adapted his walk to make it less noticeable. The scars hadn’t faded, but the skin around the scars had gotten tanned, and less attention was called to the disfigurement. It was his body that had changed the most. He used to be long and lanky, toned but not muscular. Now, his shoulders were broader, his arms were thicker, and because he’d done so much physical therapy both of his legs belonged on a steroid-filled bodybuilder.
The new shape had made him appear a hulking monster. Studying himself now he didn’t look terrible. Did Quinn prefer her men skinny or thicker? Not that it mattered.
The door chimed and Dax trotted in. “Done admiring yourself, brother?”
Reed’s cheeks heated at being caught studying his body in the mirror. “What’re you doing here?”
His brother had his long hair tied back. His ski jacket flapped open, revealing a fluorescent sweatshirt matching his ski pants. Not his ski patrol attire. “Thanks to your poetic words from the other night…”
He didn’t speak poetically much anymore. Another way he’d changed. He spoke in a grouchy voice with short sentences, while his brother spoke in hurried words as if there was a party he always had to get to. Except for the other night under Quinn’s window, when Reed had new lyrics tapping at his brain.
“…I’m taking Quinn skiing.”
A shaft of green struck his middle, an anguishing, powerful ooze. Turning away, he tried to school his features to his normal indifferent expression. The man staring back at him in the mirror had a thundercloud imprinted on his face. Guess she preferred lanky over bulky.
He had to respond with some comment. “That’s progress.”
Dax strutted next to him and checked himself out in the mirror. “This is where Quinn will spend her days, while she spends her nights with me.”
His egotistical strut and his machismo claim roused Reed’s protective instincts. His little brother needed to treat Quinn with respect. “Be good to her.” He jerked back. His protective instincts usually covered his siblings first, not a woman he’d only met a few days ago.
His brother flashed the reflection his famous pick-up-line smile. “Maybe I should put mirrors on my ceiling. You’d do that for me, right?”
Jealousy flared, incinerating the green ooze into a major fire inside his body. Every muscle in his body stiffened. His hands shaped into sharp claws. Trying to control his streak of envy, he took a deep breath. This was his little brother. “Glad to see your confidence is back. Guess you don’t need my help anymore.”
His brother’s confidence melted, as if touched by his internal heat. Dax’s expression dropped. His cocky expression turned scared. He grabbed the collar of Reed’s shirt. “You can’t abandon me. Let’s see how today goes.”
“You’re on ski patrol and an expert skier. I’m sure today will go great.” He’d always helped his little brother. He hated he’d knocked him down a peg with a few words. Obviously, Dax’s confidence was shaky.
Hatred for this ex-girlfriend drilled Reed. He’d never known his brother to be so confused and unsure. The cocky demeanor was lovable, but he wondered if it was a pretense.
“On the slopes I’m an expert. What about après-ski?” Dax’s panic was comical.
Reed didn’t laugh.
“Après-ski?” Quinn floated into the studio wearing a decorative knit hat, her long hair streaming from beneath. Pink ski jacket and ski pants, and black snow boots lined with fur completed the outfit. She resembled a fashion model with her thin, athletic frame and perfect, gleaming smile.
Reed swallowed, trying to control his rushing pulse. Rushing from his heart to his cock.
Dax’s fake grin returned. He stepped toward her. “You’re hot.”
That wouldn’t have been Reed’s choice of words. Gorgeous. Amazing. Worshipful.
Her smile grew wider. “I haven’t skied since I was ten. Let me get through the skiing part first, before we talk about après-ski.”
His brother took her gloved fingers. “You’re with a professional. You’re in good hands.”
More like fast hands.
Half of Reed cheered him on. He wanted the fun and happy version of his brother back. The other half, the one that cared about Quinn, wanted to kick Dax’s ass.
As if she’d read Reed’s mind, she slipped her hand away. “Do you want to go skiing with us, Reed?”
The offer shot his spirits in the sky, cooling the jealousy. Even though the actual question was an arrow to his heart. “I can’t ski.” He studied the ground. The bright shine off the wooden dance floor made his eyes sting.
“That’s what you said about dancing.” Her determined tone made the arrow sticking from his chest quiver.
The two things were completely different.
For the most part, dancing was slow and steady, performed on a flat surface and in comfortable shoes. He glanced at her again. And in the arms of someone you were attracted to. Skiing was off-balanced and downhill, reckless. The hard boots wouldn’t conform to his misshapen ankle, making the entire experience painful.
“I didn’t want to dance. I can’t ski.” He kept his voice short and rough. He didn’t want her feeling sorry for him. He could walk and the doctors told him he’d never do that again. He could play the piano, although he hadn’t wanted to until recently.
She opened her mouth to push the point.
He became a rock, impenetrable. “Go. I’ve got work to finish.” He picked up the drill from his toolbox not sure what exactly he was going to do with it, he just needed something in
his hands. Something to distract.
“Are you sure?” Dax must’ve seen something on Reed’s face. His wish to ski, or his wish to ski with Quinn. “You know, there’s adaptive skiing—”
“No.” He didn’t want someone guiding him around a mountain he knew like the back of his scarred hand. He didn’t want help. Revving the drill, he wanted them to leave. “Go and have fun.”
The last part was the hardest sentiment. He didn’t want them to have fun, yet he did. Dax was his brother and Quinn was…was a friend. Possibly his brother’s future girlfriend.
The athletic couple left the studio side by side. Their fast paces and smiling faces were proof they should be together. Same abilities, same socialization skills.
He slapped his forehead. More lyrics. Fast paces and smiling faces. The rhyming words and the new melody wouldn’t leave him alone.
Staring out the window, he watched the couple dash across the street laughing at something. Together.
A gloom descended. Any hope of being with Quinn wilted inside, knowing he hadn’t had any real chance. He’d always known. With his disabilities, he missed too much of regular life. He couldn’t get involved with a woman and have her miss part of life, too.
Better for his brother to be with Quinn. Someone Reed knew and trusted, not a complete stranger. As long as Dax behaved himself and didn’t continue his wild playboy ways.
Chapter Seven
Reed sat at the piano with his hands poised above the keys. Nerves flitted in his stomach, making him ill. The song, his song, buzzed through his brain. The one whittling away at his conscious. A song wanting to be written, heard, completed. Sharp notes of doubt punctured through the music. Could he really have a new song inside him? His fingers itched to play each new note, to hear them slide together in musical harmony, to put them together with the words dancing in his head.
Dancing because the lyrics were about one specific person.
He slammed his hands on the piano. A person he shouldn’t be attracted to and shouldn’t be writing songs about, ever. Quinn was on a date with his brother. She’d never see him as a strong, virile male. Dax might be heartbroken, but Reed was broken. His brother’s heart would mend, while Reed’s body was unrepairable.
His cell phone rang, taking him out of his confused thoughts. He answered automatically.
“This is the Castle Ridge Hospital Emergency Room,” the calm voice on the other end of the line was the opposite of the news it would convey. Hospitals rarely called with good news.
His heart stuttered. Had his risk-taking brother finally gone too far? “What happened?”
“Quinn Petrov—”
His stuttering heart swelled and spasmed. He immediately assumed the worst because he’d been through the worse. He tamped down on his trembling lips. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine.” If she was fine, the hospital wouldn’t be calling. “She had an accident on the slopes.”
“Where’s Dax? She was skiing with him. Is he hurt, too?” Reed’s pulse skyrocketed. His worry and fear spiked into anger at his brother.
The crinkling of papers came across the line. “She was brought in by the ski patrol.”
“Dax is ski patrol.” Dammit. Reed wanted the entire story. “He’s not injured? Or there? How bad is she?”
“She’s hurt her ankle and hit her head.”
“Concussion?” He’d been a skier his entire life. He knew the risks and the common injuries.
“We don’t know yet.” The tone on the other side remained calm. “She asked for you.”
Calm was the last thing he was experiencing. His swelling heart beat to a hopeful song. She’d asked for him. Not his brother. Where the hell was his brother?
He needed to get to Quinn’s side. She shouldn’t be alone. “On my way.”
He bolted out the door as fast as his stupid limp would carry him. He thought about driving, but between holiday visitors and parking at the base of the mountain, it would be faster to walk. For most people.
Where was Dax?
He’d been skiing with Quinn. He was a ski accident expert. Why hadn’t the clinic called him? Why wasn’t he at her side when she’d fallen? The unanswered questions whipped around in Reed’s head like the swirling wind. He took out his phone and dialed his brother.
“I can’t talk right now.” Dax sounded breathless when he answered. “I lost Quinn on the mountain and I’m trying to find her.”
Reed’s head pounded with a bass note. “She’s not on the mountain.” He clenched the phone in his hand trying to control his anger at his brother’s irresponsibility. “She’s in the emergency room.”
“What?”
“She’s hurt.” His chest constricted.
“How hurt?” Dax’s voice squeaked.
Reed pushed harder and faster, not caring about the pain shooting from his ankle to his calf. The hospital said head injury. Any accident with the head was serious. He knew. Shuffling past the ticket booth and restaurant, he spotted the red cross of the small emergency hospital. The ski patrol headquarters were located next door.
“I don’t know. I’m almost there.” The bass in Reed’s head hit harder. How could his brother not take better care of Quinn? She was a precious package to be protected. “How did you lose track of her?”
“She skied real slow.”
“You should’ve stayed with her.” He couldn’t stop the censure. His brother had always been reckless. And Reed had always been around to clean up the mess. Who had helped his little brother when he’d been in New York? They were both too old for this.
“I’m not used to skiing with beginners, big brother.” Not exactly an explanation, and certainly not an apology.
Reed should’ve lectured his brother before the start of the day. “She told you she hadn’t skied since she was a kid. She doesn’t know the mountain.” He strangled the phone in his hand, wishing it was his brother’s neck. “What were you thinking?”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Dax fired back. “I deal with these kind of emergencies every day. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
This wasn’t about any old emergency. This was about Quinn. Reed’s worry grew bigger, pushing out the air in his lungs. He was suffocating.
“She better be.” He put a threat in his tone. Or his little brother would have to deal with him.
* * *
Quinn’s eyelids were glued shut. Her head thumped, and every part of her body ached. Her left ankle throbbed. Images returned. Hurrying down the hill, crossing her skis, falling…and crashing. She remembered the soft voice of the female ski patrol member, and the swishing of the snow beneath the basket carrying her down the slope. Where was she now?
She lay on a cushy surface, and something soft covered her. An antiseptic smell stung her nose. A beeping filled her ears. She tried to move her legs.
Her belly clenched and nausea burned. Her heart charged. Her legs wouldn’t move. Struggling to open her eyes, she took short, shallow, gasping breaths.
The world was fuzzy. Two large figures loomed. Dax wearing his ski helmet. And Reed.
The burning cooled and some of her panic receded, knowing he was close.
His face was etched with lines of concern. He held his chin between white-knuckled fingers. Staring, his gaze never left her face. The burning returned to her cheeks this time. He studied her as if she was a piece of art, not a big mess.
“She’s awake.” Sounding relieved, Dax sent a flirty smile toward the door.
Not at her. She focused out and noticed a cute nurse exiting the room. Quinn felt nothing. No jealousy about the man she was on a date with smiling at someone else. Someone probably much prettier at the moment. Her warm cheeks scorched higher. Reed must think she looked terrible. She tried to raise her hand. Tubes and cords slowed her movement. “How do I look?”
“More importantly, how do you feel?” He leaned forward, possibly wanting to examine inside her head. Her body overheated from his closeness and his c
oncern. “When I got the call, I was so worried.”
Dax nudged his brother’s shoulder, pushing him aside. “I’m so sorry, babe. I lost you. One moment you were behind me and then you were gone.”
She didn’t remember the day the same way. A quick lesson, a single easy run, and Dax had led her toward the back of the mountain. The entire day she’d been playing catch up, trying to follow the speck of his green coat racing ahead. Dax had pushed her to the edge of her abilities. That’s how she taught, so how could she complain?
Except she hadn’t let go of Reed when they’d danced. She hadn’t wanted to let go. Her hand on his shoulder had quivered with attraction. Their joined hands had connected them on a deeper level. She’d peered into his green eyes with tiny flecks and been lost in their depths.
She never should’ve said yes to skiing or yes to Dax. Her gaze strayed to his older brother.
“Reed called me when he got the call from ski patrol. I got here as fast as I could.” Dax plopped on the edge of the bed.
Pain sliced through her foot and ankle, and she grimaced.
“Get off the bed.” Reed’s sharp voice had her examining him. She could see his concern. “You’re jostling her.”
“Sorry, sorry. I’m not very good in hospitals.” Dax’s cheeks flamed red. He shot an uneasy glance at his brother.
She sensed the tension between the two men. “I thought you were on ski patrol.” The statement accused. He’d been too fast all day. Fast talker, fast teacher, and way-too-fast skier. She couldn’t keep up.
“Avalanche expert.” Standing, Dax stuck out his chest. “I know how to deal with emergencies and accidents on the mountain. Once they get to the ER, I’m outta there.”
“And you’ve obviously never been a ski instructor.” She huffed, too exhausted to show much anger, even though he was the reason she was in the hospital.
Reed cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. “People from Castle Ridge practically ski before they walk.” His explanation didn’t make up for his brother’s impatience, but she liked that he tried to protect him.
The Romance Dance: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance Page 8