The Romance Dance: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance

by Burton, Allie

  Dax moved back toward her, grabbed her hand, and squeezed too tight. “I’m really sorry. When you get out we’ll do something you want to do.”

  His awkward apology soothed her temper. She didn’t have the strength to argue. “Okay.” She tugged her hand out of his.

  “Maybe you should leave while she’s in a forgiving mood.” Reed used the older-brother-knows-best tone.

  Dax’s focus shifted between the two of them, showing his indecision. “I don’t know. Quinn?”

  If he was uncomfortable and didn’t want to be here, that was fine with her. He was a distraction from Reed’s attention. “Don’t stay on my account.”

  His eyes widened, and his mouth lifted in a semblance of an awkward grin. “You’re sure?” His hopeful expression included a sheen of perspiration. He kept glancing at the medical equipment. He was truly anxious about being in a hospital.

  Softening toward him, she didn’t need him here as long as she had Reed. “I’m sure once they check the X-rays they’ll release me.”

  A woman shuffled into the room in ski patrol pants and jacket. Her long hair was tied in pigtails. She seemed vaguely familiar. “I’m Lexi.” She said to the room in general. “I brought you off of the mountain and wanted to see how you were doing.” Her quizzical perusal encompassed the three of them, stopping at Dax.

  She must know him. They both were on ski patrol. “I’m doing okay.”

  “You were the one who brought Quinn in?” Dax’s question accused. “Why didn’t you call me? She was skiing with me.”

  Lexi’s eyebrows arched. “I didn’t see you anywhere around.” She spoke slowly with a question mark at the end. Like, where the heck were you?

  The answer Quinn wanted. “He skied too fast for me.”

  “Give me a break.” He scowled at Reed. “I was born into a family of skiers. I don’t remember how to slow down and teach someone.”

  Which might’ve given her a break—a break in her ankle. Her muscles tensed, trying to control an ugly retort. “I told you I hadn’t skied in years.”

  “Yeah, but you’re athletic, babe.” The compliment didn’t appease. “I thought you’d be fine.”

  “And…” the ski patrol member’s cheeks reddened. She glared at Dax, as if knowing his irresponsible ways. “Not only weren’t you around, Quinn asked us to call your brother.”

  Her pulse pounded, beating out her mortification. She remembered saying Reed’s name. She’d been thinking about how his life must’ve changed after his accident. Had she bothered him while he was working?

  He flattened his lips together, hiding a smile. Did he find this amusing, or was he glad she’d asked for him?

  Dax glowered at his brother, as if noticing the slight smile, too. He fisted his hands together and inclined toward Reed in a menacing way. “What.”

  Not a question. More of a demand.

  The air in the room went frigid. Tension radiated between the brothers.

  Lexi swung her arms, trying to break the awkwardness. “Well, it doesn’t appear to be anything serious. Let me know how the patient is doing, Dax.”

  “I’ll follow you out. Text you later.” He bussed Quinn on the cheek, waved, and hurried out of the room. “Later, Reed.”

  Shaking her head, she watched Dax’s retreating back. He was a fun guy, but not responsible, and not for her.

  “Don’t take it personally. He’s got a phobia of hospitals.” Reed crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. He seemed to have run his fingers through his disheveled hair several times. Had he been worried about her? “You should’ve seen him when I was in the hospital. He only visited a couple of times, and I was there for months.”

  His words sent a stream of sorrow through her. She couldn’t imagine being in a hospital for months. “I hope I’m not here for even a few days.” She couldn’t afford to not open her dance studio on time.

  “You should know if anything is broken soon.” He paced to the edge of the room and back again, resembling a caged-in tiger, a limping-unsure tiger. Plunking down on a chair near her bed, he ran fingers through his hair. His stared at the ceiling, as if trying to decide what to say. “I’m sorry this happened. My brother doesn’t understand everyone can’t keep up with him physically.”

  Soothed, she relaxed against the small bed. Reed knew the right thing to say. He didn’t lie to make things sound better. He didn’t panic. She liked that about him. He was a pillar of strength in an emergency. She’d never had that before. The ballet doctors treated the dancers as commodities, trying to fix whatever was wrong with minimum days of dancing missed and minimum fuss.

  “Is that what happened to you? A skiing accident?” If he’d been in the hospital for months his accident must’ve been horrific.

  His facial muscles ticked. His eyes dimmed with sorrow. He shifted in the hard chair and avoided her gaze. The memories must be torturous and she wanted to reach out and hold his hand. “Your accident was nothing like mine.”

  “What kind of accident was it?” Her question came out slow and careful. She didn’t want to scare him away, yet she wanted to know.

  “Car accident.” His Adam’s apple moved up and down. The answer had been difficult.

  A bittersweetness flowed through her. He’d told her. The precious honor scared and drew her closer. She wanted to be his confidant, someone he shared his painful past with, someone he trusted.

  She didn’t want him remembering bad memories, but sometimes talking helped release the horror. “In Castle Ridge?” The wintry roads must be treacherous.

  His lips pursed in a mutinous expression. “New York City.”

  “You had a car in New York?”

  “No.” Back to one-word answers.

  Sorrow sailed through her bloodstream. They were going backwards, and she wanted to move forward. “With the city’s crawling traffic, most accidents are fender-benders.”

  “This one wasn’t.” The words sounded as if they being ripped from his soul. “Someone died.”

  His expression blanked. Thinking about it must be too harsh a memory. His skin turned an ashen color. He closed his eyes tight, forming small wrinkles.

  She placed her hand over his. The simple touch meant to calm, instead the contact ignited a spark deep inside. A spark of rightness. Holding his hand felt true. Like she belonged with him.

  Rubbing his cold skin, she caressed the ridges of the scars, trying to comfort. He was obviously tortured by the accident. Not the noticeable wounds on his hand or his limp, but inside. She wanted to help him with the internal scars, too. The urge to heal him overwhelmed, and she found joy in this need. “Whose fault?”

  The hospital machines beeped. The wall heater whined. The clock on the wall ticked.

  His breathing grew heavier and heavier. He gasped.

  Without him speaking, she knew. Knew the ugly truth.

  “Mine.”

  The word thumped in her chest and echoed, getting deeper and deeper, and sadder and sadder. “I’m sure it wasn—”

  “My fault.” His tone brooked no argument. His face seemed to age in seconds.

  Squeezing his hand tighter, she wanted to comfort him, to say the right words as he often did. She didn’t know how to react to his confession. Internally, she floundered. Her lips flapped, yet nothing came out. Here, she’d been honored with his blunt honesty, and she didn’t know how to respond. Holding his hand, they sat in silence, each of them stewing in their thoughts.

  “Good news.” The cute nurse breezed into the room holding a chart, not realizing the morose mood in the room or the important discussion Quinn wanted to finish, but didn’t know how. “You’ve only got a sprain. No concussion.”

  “Thank you so much.” Relief whooshed out in her voice. She’d been lucky. What if she’d broken a bone and it took weeks to heal? She wouldn’t be able to open her dance studio on time, which meant she couldn’t pay the rent on time.

  “Great.” Reed’s eyes lightened, as if he’d been worried about
her. He used his free hand to rub down her arm in a soft caress.

  Tingles of attraction spiked off contact, sending a trail of shimmering desire through her. She noted the lightness of his expression and the intensity of his gaze. The morose mood had vanished, but the meaning of their conversation lingered in her mind.

  “We need to finish up the paperwork and get you your release instructions. It shouldn’t take long.” The cute nurse scanned Reed similar to how she’d scanned Dax, earlier.

  Every unbroken bone in Quinn’s body tensed. She didn’t like the nurse inspecting Reed as if he was there for the woman’s pleasure. He was there for her.

  “Will you be driving the patient home?” The nurse hinted she wanted him to drive her home and right into bed.

  The pain in Quinn’s ankle traveled to her heart. She lolled forward, waiting to hear his response.

  “Of course.” No hesitation on his part. No flirty smile at the nurse. Reed didn’t even notice the woman flirting with him. The exact opposite of his brother. A hum of satisfaction danced inside Quinn.

  “I’ll need to run to the studio and pick up my car. I walked, because parking is so difficult.”

  Had he left the studio in a hurry to get to her? Her head swooned and she felt faint, except then she wouldn’t get to go home with Reed.

  The nurse held up the chart. “I’ll get the paperwork started, and by the time you get back she’ll have care instructions and be ready to go.”

  After the nurse left the room, Quinn grabbed his hand again. “Thanks so much, Reed. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

  “No worries.” His gaze shifted and he tugged his hand out of hers. Now they were alone, he acted nervous again. Could it be because he thought she wanted to return to their discussion?

  Not at this moment. She’d wait until they weren’t in a hospital room and could be interrupted at any minute. Beaming, she couldn’t wait to be alone with him for more than discussing his past.

  Wanting to put him at ease, she switched the focus to her problems. “I was so worried about hurting myself and I wouldn’t be able to open the dance studio on time. Which would mean begging you to let me pay the rent late.” She wasn’t worried anymore. She’d had sprains before. A little rest and she’d be fine.

  In the meantime, Reed had come to her rescue, so he must care. She sensed the attraction between them, and couldn’t wait to discover where it would lead. From what she’d seen, he was so reserved with women, she’d have to take the lead in this relationship just as she led in their dance. A tingle of excitement boogied down her spine.

  Another smile flitted onto her face, a flirty smile. A come-and-get-me smile. “Or bribing you with my body.”

  * * *

  Reed scurried out of the hospital. Quinn’s words tempted and teased. Except when she learned the truth about him, about what he’d done, she’d be running away from him. He might be the one bribing her to keep his secrets.

  He shoved the gear of his truck too hard and it grinded, scratching across his back and making him shiver. Parking outside the hospital, he couldn’t believe he’d confessed about the accident to a virtual stranger. He’d never told his family the details, and he’d only known Quinn for a week. Not that he’d shared everything. Loud music buzzed in his head. What had he done? He was surprised she was talking to him. Then again, he slammed the truck door shut, she needed a ride home from the hospital.

  Quinn sat in the lobby in a wheelchair, with crutches at her side. Her skin appeared paler, and there were deep shadows under her eyes. His chest tightened, feeling her pain. No matter how lucky she was at not having broken anything, she’d been through a traumatic incident. His anger toward himself lessened. She wasn’t the type of woman who would tell tales.

  After hospital aides helped her into his truck, he turned on the ignition and drove toward Main Street. “What are your release instructions?” Worry swirled in his gut. She was on her own and had no one. Except him.

  “The usual.” This must be old-hat for her. “Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation.”

  “You’ve done this before.” He turned into the driveway on the side of the Victorian house and pulled between the garage and the back entrance.

  “Ballet dancer is a hard career on your body.” She sounded tough, but there was a shakiness, as if she wasn’t as cavalier as she pretended. She opened the truck door, and swung her crutches around.

  “Hold on.” He opened his door, jumped out, and ran around to her side. He wasn’t going to be like his brother by wishing her luck and leaving. “Let me carry you.”

  “Ridiculous. I’m going to have to get around on my own.”

  “Not today.” He wasn’t taking no for an answer. He swept her into his arms and headed for the back door.

  The strands of her hair swept across his face in a tease. The scent of roses tickled his nose. Trembling, he wanted to bury his face in her neck and get both sensations at the same time. He restrained himself.

  He finally had her in his arms again, and this time he was leading her. When they danced, she was in control. Now, he carried her up the stairs, resembling the caveman he’d been accused of being. Except he wasn’t carrying her away to be ravished. He was carrying her to keep her safe.

  And this turned him on all the more. His legs weakened. Not from her weight, but from the thought. He wanted to protect her, and cherish her, and hold her close. Yet, he’d pushed her into dating his brother. Mistake or self-preservation?

  Her blue gaze captured his. The sapphire color deepened into pools of what appeared to be desire. He wanted to dive in. He didn’t even notice her weight, because he was floating on air. Did she feel this same tug of attraction? Was it possible?

  Hope and disbelief intermingled like the wrong chords in a song.

  Crossing the apartment door threshold—the symbolic act of newlyweds—he stumbled, almost dropping his precious package.

  “I can’t believe you carried me up the stairs.” Her expression held awe.

  He became more powerful with her arms wrapped around his neck. “Just because I limp doesn’t mean I’m not strong.” He kept his tone light and teasing.

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” She ran slender fingers across his chest. Similar to static electricity in the winter, each touch sparked inside him. “I’m a full-grown woman, and those were steep stairs.”

  His body reacted to her statement with a twitch of his cock. He knew she was a full-grown woman. A very attractive full-grown woman, who was currently in his arms. “I’m fine. Where do you want to go?”

  “My bed.”

  Me too. His cock twitched again, and he hoped she didn’t notice his reaction. He wanted to take her to bed. His hope sprung like his manhood. She’d definitely been friendly. Maybe…

  Passing the small living space with the cozy kitchen, he noted a few of her womanly possessions, and how they made the space homier. A vase with flowers. A ballet-slipper-shaped teapot. A Degas print of ballet dancers hanging on the wall.

  He carried her into the small bedroom and settled her on top of the flowered comforter. Reposing against the large decorative pillows, she twisted her long hair into a messy topknot. He wanted to untwist it again. His pulse thrummed. The tight stretchy fabric she’d worn under her ski clothes clung to her slender frame, highlighting her perky breasts and tiny waist. Her long limbs spread across the bed, one foot and ankle wrapped tight in a brace, reminding him of the real reason he was in her bedroom.

  Stretching his back, he glanced around to see the changes she’d made to the room. The apartment had been sparsely furnished. She’d added feminine touches of perfume bottles on the dresser and flowered throw pillows on the bed. A photograph of an older couple sat on the bedside table next to a couple of romance novels.

  Nothing like his sparse digs. He’d left so many of his things in New York. He didn’t need the trophies or accolades or musical knick-knacks he’d collected. He didn’t need reminders.

&nbs
p; “I haven’t had time to do much decorating.”

  He jerked at her comment having been caught staring. What would she think of his curiosity? “Can I get you something to drink? TV remote?”

  “I’m not an invalid.” She repositioned herself higher on the pillows, drawing attention to those perky breasts. “I’ll be back on my feet in a few days.”

  “Baby yourself for a while. Do what the doctor said. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.” If it had been worse, he would’ve wrung his brother’s neck.

  “I will. I promise.”

  Reed raised a skeptical brow, knowing her casual attitude about injuries. He understood the need to push boundaries, but he’d make sure she didn’t overdo things.

  “I hate being injured.” She lifted her bad ankle and dropped it on the bed. She cringed.

  “Do you know what I asked when I woke up after my accident?” He wasn’t really going to tell her anything serious, wanting to keep the mood light. Sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, he wiggled his brows dramatically. “Will I ever dance again?”

  A laugh burst out of her. Her entire body moved with joy, sending a wave of happiness in his direction. He glowed with her response.

  “I can’t believe I’m laughing when I should be upset.” Her brightness drew him closer.

  “You’re going to be fine.” He glared at the wrapped ankle. “You will dance again. And I’ll be around to help with what you need.”

  The offer slipped out. He didn’t really have a choice. She didn’t know many people in town, and he didn’t want his idiot brother taking care of her.

  She reached up and ran a hand under his jaw. “That’s so sweet.”

  He wanted to melt. Instead, he stood and straightened, letting her hand fall. He was too unsure, and wasn’t ready to deal with rejection. “What are neighbors for?”

  Her cheeks flamed red. “I would like to slip into something more comfortable.”

  Which made him more uncomfortable. He forced a teasing smirk on his lips, trying to keep this light. “That’s what all the women say to me.”

  She laughed again, and the sound filled his chest. No one’s laughter had ever made him this happy.