The Romance Dance: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance

by Burton, Allie

  Her smile appeared stiff around the edges. “I won’t bore you with the lyrical details but, as I said earlier, your brother has quite the way with words.”

  He hadn’t helped his brother text anything new, and Dax didn’t do lyrical. And the song, Quinn’s song was missing. “Dax?”

  “Yes, Dax.” She danced out of Reed’s reach.

  He re-gripped the counter, trying to control his blood pressure from spiking. She thought his brother was sweet after they’d made love? Had last night and this morning meant nothing? She’d slept with Reed, not his brother. Dax wouldn’t continue to pursue her knowing how Reed felt. So why was Quinn tormenting him?

  Clutching the counter tighter, he fought against the need to take her in his arms and punish her with a kiss. “What about us?” More of a demand than a question.

  “What about us?” She flipped a few strands of loose hair, playing the part of a tease.

  He didn’t believe she was a tease, and yet her not-so-innocent jibe stabbed. “What about last night?” And this morning.

  “Last night?” She tapped her long finger against her chin, as if she couldn’t quite remember. Which was ridiculous. How could she forget? “Oh. Last night was nice.”

  Nausea rose, and he went lightheaded. Was this a joke? In a panic, he scanned the room trying to comprehend what was happening. “Nice?”

  She nodded, a glint of amusement or temper flashing in her eyes. “Yes, nice.”

  Images of the caressing and kissing and positions swooshed in his head. Last night had been incredible. The best night of his life. His head spun. Obviously it hadn’t been the best night of her life. “Maybe it would be nicer with Dax.”

  “Maybe it would.” Her flippancy had an edge of hardness.

  A hardness cut into Reed, and he bled. He’d been used. What he thought was the most amazing, magical, perfect experience of his life had meant nothing to her. The bleeding spewed out of him in ugly words. “If you enjoy Dax’s words and his body so much, maybe you should dance with him for the opening showcase.”

  “Should I text Dax and ask him, or will you do that for me?” Her super-innocent tone told Reed she wasn’t so innocent. Her lips pursed in an injured moue. “You know, like you text for Dax.”

  Reed’s gut clenched. Blood raced in his veins. “I can explain—”

  “Let me read you his last text from this morning. It resembled a song.” She paused and glowered with shining eyes. Tears. “Or I bet you could tell me what he wrote, because you wrote it for him.”

  Shit. She knew. She knew what he’d done. How he’d lied and pretended and was a total jerk.

  Panic slashed through him. He stumbled backward. “I didn’t—”

  “You didn’t help Dax compose texts?” She held her phone out in evidence. Evidence or a bomb.

  Terror froze Reed. He couldn’t look at the phone. He knew some of the things he’d helped his brother text. If he couldn’t find a way to get her to forgive him, he’d lose her. He’d fallen in love for real this time, and if he lost her he’d lose everything.

  He focused on the words on her phone. His raw emotional words glared back. The bomb exploded blasting shrapnel in his skin, each piece poking and stinging and bleeding. Bleeding out his love for Quinn.

  On her phone, texted by his brother, were the lyrics from the song he’d composed for Quinn. Dax must’ve found the sheet music before Reed had returned to the apartment. He must’ve used the lyrics to text Quinn. And Quinn found the sheet music in the stereo manual.

  The pieces fell into place. Unlike the pieces of his heart. “I did, but not tod—”

  “You know I hate dishonesty. You know I hate being deceived.” She scowled, her anger palpable. “You know I hate liars.”

  Each sentence was a punch. She must hate him. Desperation clawed in his lungs. He grasped at straws or the final notes in a song. “I can explain.”

  She slammed the phone on the counter. The noise echoed in his head. “I don’t want any more sweet-talk, or lyrical poetry. I should’ve realized it was a trick. A competition between you and your brother.”

  The desperation choked and he couldn’t breathe. “I was only trying to help him.”

  Her lips scrunched in distaste. “Help him try to sleep with me, too?”

  “No. I wouldn’t do that.” He reached for her hand and she snatched it away a signal she wouldn’t forgive easily. A signal their relationship could be done. “What we have is…”

  Her head cocked, listening to him, but when he trailed off she asked, “What were you trying to do to me?”

  The pain in her voice pressed against his chest. In the beginning, he’d been trying to win her for his brother, to help his brother with confidence issues. Except it was his own confidence that was lacking. He hadn’t admitted his own attraction and his own need for her. Not to himself and not to her. He’d been hiding his feelings and his love. And because of that, he’d ruined their budding relationship and broken her heart.

  * * *

  That evening, Reed perched at the edge of the stairs, peeking into the dance studio minutes before the adult classes were to start. A class where he was Quinn’s partner.

  Not Dax. Not anyone else.

  Which is how it should be. Reed realized she’d been upset and he shouldn’t have made excuses. He should’ve apologized and begged for forgiveness instead of retreating to his apartment. Except retreat had been his specialty for years, and it was a hard habit to break.

  He needed to apologize and tell her he’d never deceive her again. She was the best thing in his life and he wouldn’t lose her because of a misunderstanding and a mistake. His mistake.

  He was going to march into class, sweep her into his arms, and apologize. He never should’ve helped his brother and once he’d started seeing Quinn he should’ve told her about his deception. He’d never deceive or lie to her again.

  The chimes above the front door rang and Dax strolled into the studio. Reed’s body tensed. He needed to have a long talk with his little brother about taking things. Dax should’ve told him he’d texted the lyrics to Quinn this morning.

  Dax grinned and Quinn greeted him with a hug

  A hug?

  Reed’s pulse pitter-pattered in a confused pattern. She’d ripped into him and gives his brother a hug?

  Dax’s offense had been worse. He’d stolen the lyrics this morning without asking when they’d been lying on the coffee table.

  She placed his hands on her waist and held the other one out, teaching him a dance. The same dance Reed and Quinn were supposed to perform together in the showcase. She was replacing him.

  In the dance and in her heart.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Quinn wanted to do an angry dance, not the calm waltz the adult class had been practicing for the showcase. Her body was tight and stiff. Her instructions and corrections were more clipped than courteous.

  She’d been furious with Reed. Furious he’d lied. Furious he’d played Cyrano for his brother. Now her fury was spent, and she knew they needed to talk. Except Dax danced with her, not Reed. Her choice. She’d texted Dax back and asked him to be her partner in dance class tonight.

  His lanky body moved with an easy rhythm, not the strong support she was used to with Reed. Dax smiled and laughed too often, suggesting his entire life had been a party. His hand in hers felt wrong.

  While everything about Reed felt right.

  She wanted everything to be right again. “Okay, class.” She dropped her hands from her temporary dance partner and stepped into the center of the dance floor. “We only have five nights to practice before the opening day showcase. You all look wonderful. This is going to be great.”

  Izzy tugged on her arm. “Where’s Reed? What I said earlier didn’t upset you, did it?”

  “Yes. And no.” Quinn stretched on her toes. She needed to work things out with Reed without sisterly, or brotherly, interference. “It will be fine.” She turned the music back up. “Let’s do t
he entire routine one more time before calling it a night.”

  Five minutes more and she could find Reed and explain. They’d work it out. She knew it. When she first realized their trickery, she’d been furious. She deserved an explanation from Reed and an apology. Then, she’d forget and move on. She didn’t hold grudges.

  “The stereo is working fine now.” Dax came to her side and pulled her into his arms for the final dance. “What was Izzy bothering you about? You looked upset.”

  Worried more than anything. She wanted to talk to Reed and hold him in her arms. Kiss him and have the best make-up sex ever.

  “Quinn?” Dax pushed.

  “I really didn’t want to discuss this during class. I know what you and Reed did.” Dax probably considered what he’d done a small prank. Reed should’ve known better. They’d spent so much time together, he knew her and understood her fears. He should’ve told her what had happened and promised to stop. They both should’ve told Dax about their relationship at the first possible moment.

  He missed a step. “Did?”

  She scowled. “The texts Reed wrote for you. I know.”

  Dax blushed and examined his feet doing a simple maneuver. “Sorry. I wanted to impress you, and Reed has a way with words.”

  A way with his body, too. She warmed all over. “It was deceitful and wrong. He shouldn’t have helped.”

  Dax tilted his head and studied her. “You’re not mad at me? Only Reed.”

  Both brothers were to blame. Reed’s deception was more personal. He knew her past. He’d made love to her. He’d hurt her.

  “That’s why my brother isn’t here tonight dancing. You two had a fight.” When Dax wasn’t being self-absorbed he was actually smart. “You’re attracted to my brother.”

  She took a misstep. What exactly had Reed said his brother this morning?

  “You know, I pushed Reed into helping me.” Sounding earnest, Dax performed a flourish. “The night at your window I was drunk. My brother picked me up from the pub and brought me here to sleep at his apartment. I started shouting at your window.”

  She’d wondered why his voice had changed.

  “You came out and I fell to the ground. I was slurring my words and messing up what I wanted to say.” He twirled her around. Her head spun for a completely different reason. “Reed was trying to help his little brother.”

  She snorted. “I can’t imagine you need help with women.”

  “Normally, I don’t.” Dax quieted. “I’ve been in a slump. My ex-girlfriend keeps giving me the runaround. She misses me and then she tells me she doesn’t want to hear from me again.”

  His sadness had her sympathizing and possibly understanding why his brother had helped. “You really cared about her.”

  “I did.”

  And what about Reed? Her heart cried. He’d sworn off women completely since his fiancée’s death. Until she’d danced into his life and pushed him into a relationship. A relationship he might not have been ready for. Her thoughts ground against each other. The fit with Dax wasn’t natural like with Reed. Even though he had a limp, they moved together as if they were made for each other.

  Had their fight caused him to retreat into his dark hole? If she’d pushed him too hard into a relationship he wasn’t ready for, had she lost him forever?

  * * *

  Reed pounded on the small electronic keyboard he’d moved from the garage to his apartment, trying to play over the noise from the dance studio. He didn’t want to hear the dance music and be reminded his brother danced in Quinn’s arms.

  She’d smiled at Dax. Danced with him. Forgiven him.

  Reed’s fingers slammed against the black and white keys. Life wasn’t black and white, and he didn’t understand why she could forgive his brother and not him.

  The texts she’d received today from Dax had come from the song Reed had written. For Quinn. About his feelings for her. His brother must’ve found the sheet music in his apartment this morning and used the words to woo her.

  He’d confronted Dax on the phone today when he’d discovered the music sheets were missing. He’d said he’d only seen the sheet on top which had been the last page Reed had worked on, so it didn’t have Quinn’s name at the top. Dax had told him he’d thought the song was old because Reed didn’t write music anymore.

  Which was true, until it wasn’t. He should’ve told his brother about the recent changes in his life. His playing. His composing. His Quinn.

  New wounds sliced inside Reed, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. He wasn’t ready to share his feelings with her or anybody else. He used music to sort through his emotions. Once he had things figured out he planned to tell her.

  And others who needed to be told.

  He didn’t want to taunt his little brother by flaunting his relationship with Quinn. Although Dax had seemed more amused than upset this morning when he’d told him to leave her alone. His brother had been flirting for fun. It had never been anything serious.

  Not like what Reed felt for her.

  Pain spread across his chest in a panicky rhythm. If she’d found the lyrics, what had she thought? How could she yell at him after reading his singing love letter? The pain struck a note of finality. Unless, she didn’t care for him. Or she’d hated the song.

  Someone banged on his door.

  He didn’t want to answer. Didn’t want to talk to anyone.

  A key scratched in the lock. Only Dax and Izzy had keys to his apartment. Unless they’d given Quinn a key.

  Reed held his breath and watched the entrance.

  The door opened and Izzy stood there.

  He let out the breath in a long, slow whistle. “It’s only you.”

  “Don’t sound so thrilled, big brother.” Izzy invaded his apartment. “Why weren’t you at dance class tonight?”

  Her question stabbed. “Quinn didn’t want me there.”

  “I wondered if you two had a fight. What’s up?”

  The insides of his stomach twisted. Quinn was already mad he’d overshared with Dax. “She found out I was helping Dax text her.”

  Reed had expected an I-told-you-so expression, but only got sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

  “She acted as if I’d betrayed her, yet she danced with Dax.” The twisting in Reed’s stomach knotted tighter. “She forgave Dax.”

  “You hurt her more deeply because she cares more about you.” Izzy brought him into a hug. “Not Dax.”

  The realization struck like a perfect treble. That’s why Quinn had been angry, why she’d teased and tortured, because she’d been upset by his actions. He hadn’t gotten the chance to explain he’d stopped helping his brother before their relationship had developed. He understood honesty and openness was the most important key in a relationship, but he hadn’t put it into action. Similar to his past. He’d gone along with Elizabeth’s plans and said nothing. With Quinn, he needed to perform a trio: apology, explanation, and share his feelings.

  Izzy leaned back out of the hug. Her eyebrows raised in a challenge. “So what’re you going to do about it?”

  After his sister left, and with her thoughts ringing in his head, he slipped out the back door and into his garage. Before he could lay everything in the open with Quinn he needed to confront and accept his past. To face one more demon. The demon the symphony’s conductor had delivered to Castle Ridge when Reed had been in hospital.

  He scrutinized the black tarp covered in dust concealing the large object taking up most of the space in the garage. Expecting sickness and anxiety, he was surprised when only his muscles tightened. His body wasn’t as shocked with his plan as his head. He gripped the edges of the tarp. The smoothness of the plastic contrasted with his rough fingertips. He whipped off the heavy tarp to reveal what had once been the love of his life.

  The black grand piano gleamed in the harsh fluorescent light from the ceiling of the garage. The smooth finish appeared the same. He lifted the top and studied the mechanics underneath.

  Ju
st as he’d referred to Quinn’s piano as his nemesis on the day it arrived, this piano had been an albatross around his neck. He’d carried the weight of the instrument with him, being so close physically and yet so far away emotionally. This was the piano he’d sat at for hours, days, really, composing.

  Using his hand, he brushed the dust off the bench and took a seat. He shimmied into position. The wood felt solid, familiar. This piano had been his lover more than his fiancée. He’d spent more time with it, caressed it more, played with it more. This time would be different. He wouldn’t let music take over every aspect of his life again.

  He’d go to Quinn and lay his feelings on the line. Tell her everything and share all of his emotions. He wanted to have a clear conscience, a whole heart, and no weight from his past dragging him down. If he ever did decide to start composing again, and with the music in his head he might go crazy if he didn’t, his relationship with her would come first. And composing did not mean publishing or selling his songs. He’d do it for himself and for her. No one else needed to know about his music.

  He stretched out his arms and wiggled his fingers. The black keys didn’t shine and the white keys had grooves from his fingers. From overuse. He cringed, thinking about how the piano was going to sound after sitting in the cold garage for years.

  Playing this piano would be different than playing the small electronic one his parents had sent him when he’d been recovering. He’d never used it until the other day. The electronic keyboard had been buried in his garage, too. Buried like his heart.

  Now his heart and his music had been freed by Quinn.

  He was determined to soothe her anger. He’d beg and plead for forgiveness.

  He placed his fingers in home position on the keys and was surprised his new, ugly fingers fit in the grooves. A sense of satisfaction and completeness filled him. His hands were home at this piano, similar to how he was at home in Castle Ridge with Quinn. He picked out a couple of notes and the off-key noise pained his ears. The noise was a complaining mistress, nagging about how he’d been gone too long.