The Romance Dance: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance

by Burton, Allie

  His head rose with a snap. “You heard? I thought the apartment walls and closed doors would be thick enough so I wouldn’t bother you.” He smushed his lips together, and his cheeks turned a slight red. “You hated it.”

  “I loved it. You play with such passion and grace.” She wanted him to play the tune she hadn’t recognized, the one calling to her. She crutched toward him.

  “I’m sorry I played your piano again.” Lifting the lid, he dipped the brush in the paint. Every line on his face was tight. His lips formed a flat line.

  “Don’t be.” Her chest swelled, remembering his passion. She moved close enough to touch. Placing her hand on his pecs, her own pulse raced, picking out a frantic beat. “I enjoyed every second.”

  He swiped her hand away and brushed the counter. “Did Dax?”

  Confusion had her angling her head and studying Reed. “I assume your brother knows how well you play.”

  “Never mind.” His disgust returned, crinkling his nose and forehead. He stroked the counter with the paint.

  She jutted out her hip and decided to make her voice low and sexy. “You can play my piano anytime.” Did that sound flirtatious enough for him to get a hint? “I’d love for you to play now.”

  “I’m busy.” He ran a jerky hand over a spot on the counter checking for smoothness. His body acted like a wall of rejection to her suggestiveness.

  Bristling, she kept calm and determined. She trailed a finger across his muscled arm. Maybe she needed to be more obvious. “I bet your hands are excellent for…playing.”

  He knocked her hand away. “Where’s Dax?”

  Back to Dax again.

  She huffed. “I don’t know.” Why should she? He’d only stayed for about half an hour last night. “Dax is an interesting guy.”

  Almost bipolar. Last night he’d been so solicitous, and yet, when they’d skied, he didn’t worry about her or wait for her. He usually rushed when he spoke, but some of his texts were rhythmic and poetic. He was considerate one moment, and conceited the next.

  “Too interesting.” Grumbling, Reed spilled a little too much paint.

  “Dax can be thoughtful and sweet one moment.”

  Reed paused in the middle of a stroke. He slapped the brush onto the counter splattering the paint into globs. Yet, he didn’t say anything.

  “And so self-centered the next. Why?” She used her crutches to tilt toward him wanting to see his expression in detail. Reed had pushed her toward his brother and now seemed upset about an innocent visit last night.

  His eyebrows gathered together like a storm. His mouth pursed, and his expression darkened. He smoothed the globs of paint with the brush. Back and forth. Back and forth. He was using the action to have time to think of a good answer.

  His lips pursed and he blew out a breath. “You should give Dax a chance.” The words came out in a struggle.

  Her back stiffened and cold shivered across her skin. Reed had no right to tell her who to date. “A chance?”

  She wanted to hear Reed say the words, that he wanted her to date his brother, confirm he really didn’t find her attractive.

  “A chance at a relationship.” He choked.

  No way was she interested in a relationship with his brother. “I don’t think Dax is looking for a relationship.”

  Reed lifted the brush and turned to face her. His green gaze grabbed her with its intensity. “Are you?”

  Certainly not a relationship with Dax. He was fun and could help her meet people in town, which was one of her major goals. Eventually, she wanted to settle down, and didn’t see it happening with him.

  Staring at Reed, her heart quivered. “Eventually.”

  A quaint house. Working and playing together. A family.

  With Reed, she could imagine all sorts of possibilities.

  Chapter Nine

  Saturday morning on Main Street in the small town of Castle Ridge was exactly how Quinn remembered. Her last visit had been when she was around ten years old. Strolling along the street, she’d held her grandmother’s hand, peering into shop windows and buying ice cream from an old fashioned ice cream parlor. Her grandmother’s favorite had been mint chocolate chip, and it had become Quinn’s favorite, too.

  Today, she sat at a table outside her dance studio bundled in a jacket and flowered knit cap against the chilly mid-November morning. She was handing out flyers about her free classes and dance background. The friendly townspeople stopped to listen to her pitch.

  Reed stood on a ladder hanging Quinn’s sign. Quinn’s Social Dance Club. She straightened her shoulders and let satisfaction fill her lungs. Not exactly what her mother always wanted, but she was finally seeing her name in lights. Except she was doing it on her terms.

  She’d had an opportunity to be the principal ballerina for the ballet company. In order to achieve the position, she would’ve had to backstab and lie. The current principal couldn’t be replaced unless she was injured and couldn’t dance. The director had wanted her to purposely hurt the other dancer. Quinn refused to surrender her values. She’d known it was time to quit.

  The name of her studio meant more than dance classes. It meant fun and being social. It meant the classes were open for everyone, not only people with certain builds or athletic abilities.

  Reed must’ve sensed her glance because he looked at her and grinned. “Look good?”

  Her heart ba-bumped. He looked good. He wore a knit cap with short curls sticking out. His unshaven face had that hard and sexy appearance. His jeans fit snugly around his nicely-shaped butt. He’d been standoffish for a couple of days, and she’d slowly wheedled and teased to get him out of his funk. He never told her what had caused his dark mood. “Yes. I love it.”

  “Great name.”

  “Thanks. I hope it gets across dancing is about fun and exercise.” Not grueling hours of torture, not mind games, not destroying your body so you become an invalid by the age of thirty.

  A group of girls stopped to watch the video of her dancing on the New York stage showing on her tablet.

  “Are you girls interested in dancing?” Quinn pointed at the video.

  The three middle-school-aged girls regarded each other and giggled.

  “I’m giving free lessons the first two weeks. Here’s the schedule of the different types of dance.” She handed them a flyer. Knowing middle school girls, she added, “You could come together.”

  “I’d have to ask my mom,” the girl with bright-red hair said.

  “I know your mom, Lena.” Reed’s butt muscles flexed, climbing down the ladder with ease, his limp didn’t seem to bother him doing certain activities. In bed his limp wouldn’t be noticeable at all. “She’d love for you to try dancing.”

  Quinn couldn’t stop a smile from blooming.

  “Hi, Mr. O’Donnell,” the three girls chimed.

  He greeted each of them by name. Quinn warmed at the existential small-town moment. This was why she’d moved here. A place where people cared and everyone knew your name.

  “I’ve seen Miss Quinn dance in person, and she’s the best.” His words lifted her spirits.

  He’d been so helpful with making her studio perfect. Since her accident, he’d cooked meals, carried her laundry basket up the stairs, and checked on her constantly. Now, he was helping sell her business.

  How did she pay him back? Guilt had her leg twitching. By sneaking onto the stairway at night to listen to him play the piano, knowing he didn’t want her to hear. She couldn’t help herself. The music spoke to her and heated her body. She’d thought about hobbling down the stairs, wrapping her arms around him, and giving him a kiss. She couldn’t be more obvious than that. But she wanted everything to be perfect when they got together. She wanted to win him over slowly, not attack him from behind. For now, she’d settle for sending him scorching glances and sexual innuendos.

  A couple boys of similar age moved in behind the girls, pretending not to be interested. By the gleam in their eyes, she knew they w
ere. Getting boys to participate in class would be wonderful. More students and less chauvinism.

  Lena pulled back her shoulders, noticing the boys, too. “My soccer coach said doing and teaching are two different things.”

  “Miss Quinn has taught me a little dancing, and if she can teach me,” Reed patted his bad leg, “she can teach anyone.”

  Gratefulness caused her to melt and push forward. “Plus, certain types of dance help with body movement and coordination for other sports.”

  One of the boys put a hand on his head and his other hand on his hip and twirled. He fell into the other boy and they both tumbled to the ground laughing.

  Reed sent a secretive smirk her way and she wanted to kiss him.

  “Professional football players take ballet to help stretch and strengthen their muscles so there’s less possibility of injury.” He helped each of the boys to their feet.

  “It also helps coordination.” Quinn tapped a key on her tablet and brought up a male dance class. Her stomach swished, hoping they’d be interested. “I was thinking of starting a flexibility and strength dancing class for men, if I can find a few brave guys to sign up.” She stared at both boys. “You two would be perfect.”

  “They both ski and play baseball.” Reed nodded, understanding her selling point. “They’d be great, and it would be great for them.”

  She pushed a form toward them with nervous fingers. “What do you guys think?”

  The three girls giggled.

  “Brett in a dance class?” Lena pointed at the boy who’d attempted a twirl.

  “He’d be an excellent date for school dances.” Middle schools must still hold dances, right? Quinn loved dancing with a man who knew the steps.

  And the score. She winked at Reed.

  All five of the kids laughed. The boys hit each other. The girls blushed.

  “I don’t want to dance with Brett,” Lena sounded as if she really did want to dance with him.

  “Did you ever take a dance class, Mr. O’Donnell?” Brett’s eyes widened. “You know, before your accident?”

  Quinn held her breath. She’d stated twice now he was going to dance in the showcase. He’d practically promised Sara.

  “I loved to dance.” Sorrow flickered in his gaze. Past tense. He patted his leg again.

  “Mr. O’Donnell is going to dance with me in the grand opening showcase.” Quinn flashed a stiff smile, knowing he probably didn’t want the world to know. Probably didn’t want to be used. She needed his support, though. “And this same all-male class would help his limp.”

  His quick, angry glare sliced across her. He didn’t like her giving him advice about his injury. Too bad. She knew she was right about dancing being able to help his limp, and besides, she wanted to hold him in her arms again.

  “Are you going to sign up for the guy dance class, Mr. O’Donnell?” Brett’s hopeful expression mirrored the other boy’s.

  Reed frowned sending her hopes into a dive. He studied her and she knew a pleading expression was on her face.

  His shoulders slumped in defeat. “I’m doing the showcase. I’ll decide on a class after.”

  The kids started talking at once. He gave her a you-owe-me look. A thrill spiraled down her spine wondering what type of payment he’d expect. She’d teach him to waltz and help him with his limp. When the time was right, she’d seduce him and do a more intimate dance.

  Getting to her feet, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Nothing too forward. His cheeks reddened, and he inspected the ground. Sweet.

  “Ooh, Mr. O’Donnell has a girlfriend,” Lena’s tease brought Quinn’s attention back to the kids.

  The five kids filled out forms, so she could follow up with their parents. They rushed away, talking and joking and making plans to meet later in the afternoon.

  She wanted her children to grow up free to run around town, not fearing muggers and gangs. “I hope they tell their friends about the classes.”

  Reed’s expression hadn’t changed. He stared, not saying anything.

  She stretched her toes under the table and licked her lips. “Are you mad?”

  At the kiss or her pushiness?

  “You keep volunteering me for things.” He kept his gaze glued to hers.

  She couldn’t tell what thoughts were processing through his mind. Staring back, she asked again, “Are you mad?”

  Tiny flecks of gold glistened in his green eyes, pulling her in. Deeper and deeper.

  “I haven’t decided yet.” His voice rumbled through her.

  His gaze tugged her further. In to him. People passed, cars drove by. All she saw was Reed. Sparks shot through her, lighting every inch of her skin on fire. Her attraction to him distracted her from what she was supposed to be doing, distracted her from her goals. She didn’t care.

  Another shock. Her goals had always been at the forefront of her mind. First, for dancing and now, for her business.

  “Hey, babe.” Dax’s friendly and overly-intimate tone jerked her out of her fantasy.

  “Don’t call me babe.” His eyes were the same color as Reed’s, except they didn’t hold the same depth—at least, not while looking at her. Dax didn’t arouse the same emotions.

  He picked up a brochure. “How’s the sidewalk-dancing sales pitch going?”

  Offended, she asked, “Sales pitch?” This was important, her business was important.

  “Do you remember Lexi?” He placed a hand on the woman’s lower back who’d been standing behind him. “The one who rescued you. She’s interested in dance class.” He sounded amused.

  She squirmed in her seat. He believed her business a joke. “There’s nothing wrong with dancing. Your brother is taking a class.”

  “Reed?” Dax’s loud snort caused her to squirm more.

  Reed’s expression grew dark and stormy. He turned toward the ladder, wanting to avoid this discussion.

  She was offended for him. “Yes, Reed. Why do you think that’s funny?”

  “He’s such a…a…”

  Reed swiveled back around. “A what?” His forceful voice ground out.

  The tension between the brothers thickened like a sword fight from the Nutcracker.

  “Hermit.” Dax held up his hands in a no-foul motion. “My brother doesn’t get out much, and won’t have a lot of use for dancing.”

  Reed’s strong mouth pursed and he wheeled around. He wasn’t going to defend himself.

  “I’ve gotten him to go out before, and I will again.” So, she defended him. After the shared glances, she wouldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “We’ll go out, and he’ll dance with me.”

  * * *

  Reed’s heart constricted, as if a fist had wrapped around and pinched. He couldn’t believe Quinn defended him. It seemed like she was claiming him, too. How could that be possible?

  His little brother appeared confused and unsure. Dax gaped between him and Quinn, calculating. Did he see more than what was there? Did he notice Reed’s infatuation with his tenant?

  There’d been the wink and the kiss on the cheek. The soft touches when he’d helped her with a task. Honestly, Reed was so confused he didn’t know what to think. Why would she be interested in him, if she’d slept with his brother? Was she trying to make Dax jealous? If so, she’d picked the wrong guy. Reed wouldn’t hurt his little brother.

  Lifting the ladder, he squeezed the metal between his scarred hands. “She wants to prove gimps can dance.”

  Her face paled and her eyes went round. “No.” She sounded horrified. “That’s not what I meant.”

  His guilt weighted. He hadn’t meant to insult her, only himself.

  “What did you mean?” Glaring, Dax braced himself against her table.

  “We’ll talk about this later.” Her gaze switched between the two brothers and the potential customers strolling by. “I’m busy right now.” Quinn turned to Lexi and started talking about the various classes.

  Reed grabbed the ladder and headed inside, avoiding a
confrontation on the street.

  Following, his brother yanked on his sleeve. “You were supposed to help me date Quinn, not go after her yourself.”

  Guilt, because Reed was attracted, had him blurting out. “I’m not the one sleeping with her.” Gripping the sides of the ladder tighter, he sucked in a deep breath.

  “What’re you—”

  “There’s nothing between us.” Reed didn’t need his brother playing the role of jealous lover, when there was nothing to be jealous of. And he didn’t want to talk about what his brother and Quinn had done together.

  “Good. I want to ask Quinn out again.” His brother stomped his foot, resembling a spoiled child, and Quinn was the toy being taken away.

  His outlook blackened. He didn’t have the ability to steal Quinn. “Go ahead. Ask her.”

  “You’re dancing with her. Where are you dancing?” Dax’s petulant tone grated on Reed’s nerves, as he moved toward the back of the studio.

  “Dancing, not dating.” How he wished.

  “I don’t know what to say to her after the ski incident.” His brother followed him, his voice going quiet. “I spoke with Phoebe.”

  The evil woman’s name sent sympathy through Reed. He set down the ladder and watched his brother’s expression. “What did she say?” He was the only one who knew the extent of his brother’s pain, who’d added to his pain.

  “She didn’t want to see me or hear from me.” Dax’s voice cracked. “Which is why I want to go out with Quinn again. She’s hot, and she’ll take my mind off my ex.”

  Reed’s temper spiked. He didn’t want her hurt. “You can’t use Quinn.”

  “I’m not using her. It’s just a date.” His brother winked, his earlier sadness evaporating. “Besides, she wants to get out and meet people in town.”

  The statement hit him as if Quinn’s sign had fallen on his head. That was one of her goals, and his brother was the guy to help accomplish it. Sure, he’d been fine for cooking and helping with laundry. Now, she was ready to get out and meet more people from Castle Ridge. Dax was the right man for the job.