The Romance Dance: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance

by Burton, Allie

  “I’m guessing you heard.” He didn’t even need to elaborate.

  “Where have you been? Danielle said you left the lodge hours ago. She told me about the music executive.” Izzy rushed forward and put her arms around him, trying to comfort. “I tried to call you a million times.”

  Over her shoulder, he glowered at his brother. He needed to write music, to pour his emotions into a tune. He didn’t need to be questioned and consoled.

  Okay, the hug from his sister was nice. He was thankful he had a close family.

  “Don’t look at me, bro.” Dax stood and held up his hands. His expression exhibited anxiety. “You worried both of us. What exactly happened?”

  Stepping out of his sister’s arms, Reed stood tall. He wasn’t ready to share the details. “Quinn betrayed my trust. End of story. End of relationship.”

  “Danielle gave me this.” Izzy held out a piece of lodge stationery with a name and number. “She said this is the music executive who—”

  Reed grabbed the paper and ripped it into shreds, similar to his future. “Quinn had no right.”

  “Have you talked to her?” His sister bent to pick up the littered pieces of paper. Could she put the note back together?

  A small, tiny spark ignited. Anticipation or excitement? Did he want her to put the name and number into legible form? Was he interested?

  No, no, no. He’d never be interested in that world again. Not even if that was the only reason Quinn was interested in him. In the past, he’d been so wrapped up in his music he hadn’t noticed anything else happening around him. He didn’t want to become a music-zombie again. He wanted to be aware and involved.

  If only his life was as easy to pick up as the pieces of paper. “Don’t plan to talk to Quinn, ever.” He yanked the small electronic keyboard off the shelf.

  “You can’t avoid her.” His brother’s matter-of-fact tone annoyed. “You practically live together.”

  Panic pulsed. He glanced at the apartment door and back at his brother. Quinn lived across the hall. She could knock at any time. “I’m halfway through remodeling my house. I can move there.”

  “With no heat or electricity?” Izzy pointed out the pitfalls.

  “You’re Quinn’s landlord.” Dax pointed out the obvious.

  An obvious thing Reed hadn’t thought of, because he’d been too tormented.

  “I’ll appoint you my proxy.” Ironic, since now his brother would be speaking for him. “You can talk to her for me like I helped you talk to her.”

  “You can’t throw that back in my face.” Dax’s objections didn’t sway Reed.

  “I just did.” He waved at his siblings, impatient to get moving. “Now, get out. Both of you. I have music to write and an apartment to pack.”

  And a woman to avoid. Because forgetting her would be impossible.

  * * *

  “Will you be living with Mr. O’Donnell, now he’s moving into his house?” The teenage girl, one of Brianna’s friends, asked, as she put on her coat, getting ready to leave dance class.

  Quinn shook her head, unsure if she heard correctly. “Excuse me?”

  The girl continued buttoning her coat, unaware she’d dropped a bombshell. “Mr. O’Donnell’s been moving boxes and stuff into his house on my street all afternoon.”

  The words slowly penetrated her brain. The entire town knew Quinn and Reed were a couple. It was a small town. She should’ve expected it. “He’s moving into his house?”

  “I’m sorry. That was rude.” The girl blushed, clearly embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have asked if you’d be moving in, too, except you’d be a fun neighbor.”

  The girl knew more about her lover than she did. “He didn’t mention anything about moving. How do you know?” She’d heard noises from his apartment all night. Every time she’d knocked she’d been ignored.

  “He’s going to be my neighbor on Pearl Street.”

  The street name hit Quinn, as if she were kicked in the gut. The same street as her grandparents. She didn’t even hear the girl say goodbye, or the door chimes tinkle. She was too numb. Reed was moving out of his apartment upstairs without telling her.

  Without thought, she grabbed her coat, turned off the lights, and locked the door. She bolted the few blocks toward Pearl Street. She needed to talk to Reed, find out what was really going on, and why he hadn’t opened the door to her last night.

  Since returning to Castle Ridge she’d avoided this street, didn’t need reminding of what she’d lost. She’d failed her grandparents and her legacy. Veering down the street, she counted down the houses to her grandparents’ old house and searched for Reed’s truck in the different driveways. She spotted both. At the same location.

  Her numbness sizzled across her skin, resembling electric shocks. Her feet rooted to the ground.

  She stood in front of the Craftsman home she’d visited hundreds of times as a child. Some of her happiest memories lived in this house. The wide veranda where she’d drunk lemonade with her grandfather and played hopscotch. The porch swing where her grandmother had read her books. The large windows she’d stare out of, watching snowflakes fall.

  “I can’t believe Reed never told me he owned this house.” Her voice swung into a high, happy note. It was serendipitous. He owned her house. Why hadn’t he shown the house to her? Taken her there? She could once again visit, and maybe live in the beautifully constructed home with the man she loved.

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself.” She tried to control her happiness. Reed and her had a relationship, and were building toward something more. She sensed it deep in her bones. She loved him and he loved her. They just hadn’t spoken the words yet.

  The house needed repairs. It had been empty for years while she lived in New York. She’d paid a management company to take care of it. By the peeling paint and rotting wood they hadn’t done a very good job. There were aspects of new construction, though. The door had been replaced with stained-glass-window door. New windows had been fitted for the upstairs.

  In her mind, she could picture the house in its glory. A big, square veranda covered by a sloping tiled roof. Clean, large windows to view the many trees out front—trees needing trimming. Wood shutters decorated the upper story windows. A two-car garage attached to the side where Reed’s truck was halfway unloaded.

  They hadn’t made specific plans for last night, but they’d been spending every free minute with each other, and every night. Last night was the first time she’d slept alone for a week.

  She missed him.

  He must’ve been busy with packing and moving.

  Excitement tripped over trepidation, causing her lungs to catch as she continued up the wide front steps leading to the front door. After knocking, she tiptoed inside the open door, feeling like a trespasser, even knowing Reed would welcome her. Their relationship had evolved so quickly he’d forgotten to tell her about moving day. That was all.

  She stepped into the entryway and immediately felt at home, because this had been the one home she’d known. Her mother had moved from apartment to apartment around New York, and Quinn had lived in the dance school residence halls before being old enough to rent an apartment. None of those places had ever held her heart like her grandparents’ house.

  She stood on the entryway landing, which opened to an open-floor plan to keep families connected. No furniture. Piles of lumber and construction equipment sat in the living room. Scratched wooden floors showed lots of use. A stone fireplace to keep her and Reed warm on those long, winter nights. The inside of her chest flittered. She could see herself living here with Reed. Coming home after a day’s work and sharing a meal. Working on house projects together. Decorating each and every room, including a baby’s room.

  Reed tromped into the main living area carrying a large cardboard box. His limp was less noticeable since he’d started dancing. She’d helped in his recovery, and she couldn’t stop a smile. His messy hair curled more than normal, as if he hadn’t combed it today
, and he looked adorable. Sweat dribbled down his cheek, reminding her of his slickness while they were making love. He must’ve been working extra hard.

  She took all of him in. She’d missed him. Missed his presence and his voice and his smile.

  Wheeling around, his gaze locked on hers. The green orbs brightened, flashed, and then dulled.

  Her heart thumped, and dropped into her stomach. Unease clutched around her neck. Why did he seem angry? Why hadn’t he told her about moving? They were building a relationship. Why wouldn’t he want her to know? Anxiety clogged her throat, making her mouth go dry. She couldn’t breathe.

  He pinched up his face and yelled, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Reed’s body quivered with rage and lust and remorse. The tremors had started in his toes and traveled up his body, making him lose control. He hadn’t meant to shout at Quinn, he rarely shouted. He hadn’t meant to ever talk to her again. And here she was standing in his house, making him hurt and need at the same time.

  Anger at his neediness had him tossing down the box. “What’re you doing here?”

  He didn’t swear, only asked a polite question because he had control. Of himself, of his body, of his emotions. Even though he trembled from head to toe. Even though she made him crazy. Even though he should’ve known he couldn’t walk away from her. Not with her determination.

  Quinn’s cheeks whitened and she wavered near the door. She clutched the banister around the door landing. Her chest moved up and down and he shouldn’t have noticed. He wasn’t interested in her distrustful ways. “This was my grandparents’ house.”

  His turn to waver with dizziness. The last thing he expected.

  “This is my house.” And he didn’t want her here.

  He planted his feet on the hardwood floors, standing on one side of the room, while she stood on the far side. Not far enough. He’d bought this old house at an auction about six months ago. Slowly, he’d been fixing the home up, making it livable. The old house had been empty for years. The previous owners had been elderly and passed it on to an ungrateful heir who lived in New York.

  Realization kicked and his abs clenched. Could she be the ungrateful heir?

  She’d never acted ungrateful, she only talked fondly of her grandparents. He knew they’d lived on Pearl Street. But here, in this house?

  “I told you I had to sell the house to pay for the dance studio.” She stepped down the entryway steps, further invading his home. She scanned the entire living space. “It’s why I rented the apartment above the studio at the last minute. When I’d originally made my plans, I thought I’d be living here.”

  Her words struck him. “You won’t be living here.”

  He had to get through her thick head. And his thick heart.

  If he couldn’t trust Quinn, he couldn’t love her. He’d learned the lesson long ago, in a different place and time.

  She moved stiffly into the center of the living room. She must’ve been stunned to discover he’d bought her grandparents’ place. He’d been attracted to the strong bones of the older home and planned to flip the house. While repairing the roof and polishing the wood shelves, he’d fallen in love with the home.

  White-faced, she moved to a wide, empty space by the bay windows, moving so fast he didn’t have time to block her way. It was as if she hadn’t heard him.

  Her expression softened, and her eyes glazed in a trance. “When I was a kid, my grandmother had the piano sitting right here, and I’d dance around while she played.”

  His stomach twisted, shooting pain through every major organ. Her grandmother’s piano. Her piano. The piano in her studio where they’d made love the first time.

  The spot she referred to would be perfect for his grand piano, the one now occupying the garage. The windows would provide enough light to play, and yet the instrument would be shielded from the harsh rays of the sun. From that position in the open floor plan the acoustics would be perfect sending the tinkling chords of the piano throughout the large room.

  Everything inside him hardened. His limbs, his core, his backbone. He’d never place his piano there because he’d see the child Quinn with blonde ringlets dancing around and laughing. The image would haunt.

  “You should go.” His voice was less forceful, even though he needed her to leave.

  He didn’t want her visit contaminating his new home. He didn’t want to live here and think about her. It was why he’d moved out of the apartment so quickly. That and the too-close proximity. Shivering, he tried to shake off his empathy for her and what she’d lost. He hadn’t known she’d already been in this house multiple times.

  She focused those clear, blue eyes at him. Eyes beseeching and questioning. “I don’t understand what’s going on. We should talk.” She wandered to the fireplace and trailed a finger across the top of the hearth.

  The heart of the home.

  Every muscle and tendon tightened. “Please leave.” Now. Before he begged her to stay.

  “Why are you mad at me?” She studied him, moving forward and getting too close. Close enough he saw the tiny black flecks in her eyes that sparkled when she orgasmed. Her chin angled and she got a confused expression. “What have I done?”

  Did she believe he was so desperate for love he’d let her get away with breaking his trust?

  “You know.” He used a harsh tone, desperate to get through to her. And himself.

  He couldn’t forgive her. He’d let Elizabeth get away with lying and twisting the facts and doing things behind his back. She’d used him and his career. He would not let Quinn get away with it, too. She would only stay if he became famous by writing songs. She didn’t love this small-town, construction worker version of himself. She wanted more out of him, from him.

  Quinn stretched onto her toes holding onto the fireplace as if it was a ballet barre. “If I knew, why would I come here expecting a big welcome or a surprise?”

  “A surprise?” The question shot out of him in a surprise of his own.

  She hung her head and color finally returned to her cheeks. Too much color. “This is stupid, but when I saw your truck in the driveway, this driveway, I thought maybe you knew how special this home was and bought it for me.”

  Shock she’d even think such a thing rocked through him, and he stumbled backward. A warm sensation calmed his quaking body, because if she’d thought he bought the house for her, she must have deep feelings for him, dreamed of them being together.

  Or was it another way for her to take advantage of him? Push him into playing, try to sell his music, expect him to buy a house for her. Similar to Elizabeth and her engagement ring.

  “I bought this house before I even knew you.” He squashed Quinn’s dreams like she’d squashed him.

  The questions seemed to double on her expression. Prowling toward him, she ran her fingers up his arm. He stiffened, forcing the blood pumping to his cock to stop. “And now you do know me, and—”

  He grabbed her hands and tossed them away. “Stop.” Her contamination was complete. Contamination of his house and his body. He couldn’t let her convince him with sex. His heart might be breaking but he wouldn’t let her know. Hardening every vulnerable part of his body, he forced himself to be tough. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  She staggered back, as if she’d taken a direct punch. Her ocean-blue eyes rounded and then narrowed with hurt. She crossed her arms. “You’re not even going to tell me why you’re mad?”

  He’d taken a punch, as if it was his fault she’d betrayed him. He couldn’t feel sorry for her. His anger scorched inside him. “Were you ever going to tell me about your music executive friend who wanted to buy my song? The song I’d written exclusively for you?”

  Her mouth dropped open, and she stepped back. Her gaze flashed with guilt. “How did you find out?”

  He could write a song about the way guilt was written all over her face.

  No. No more songs abo
ut Quinn.

  Her non-denial stoked the flame higher. “Does it matter? I did find out.” The flame flared, burning in his chest and creating a firestorm of fury. “Found out you lied and went behind my back. Found out you weren’t trustworthy.”

  She flinched. Torment crossed her face. She held her hand toward him, reaching for understanding. He stepped away. “Reed, listen. I was going to tell you. First, I thought I’d send it to my friend and see what he thought. If he hated it, you’d never know—”

  “It’s lying.” His tongue flicked with the fire. Elizabeth had cancelled concerts at the last minute because he was sick. Really, she’d wanted a weekend at the beach. She’d never told him until after the fact.

  “If the music executive loved the song, you’d realize how talented you are. And if you wanted, you’d have a major music deal again.” Quinn pleaded for understanding.

  “I don’t want a music deal. I don’t want to write music.” He wanted to stomp his foot to emphasize the untruth. He did want to write music; even now, a melody played in his head. A melody of anger and love and distrust. “I don’t want anyone to hear my music.”

  The last statement was true. Except for Quinn, he wasn’t ready for anyone to hear, and didn’t know if he ever would be because if he became famous everything about his life would change. He wasn’t ready for change.

  “The song is beautiful.” Her tone beseeched. She again reached out to him. When he didn’t respond she let her hand drop to her side. “The world needs to hear your amazing talent.”

  “No.” He sounded firm. Inside, he quaked with the idea. Fear or excitement? He couldn’t tell. Maybe a bit of both.

  “I sent the song off for you.” She paused and made sure he was listening. “Because I care about you.” Her voice cracked. “Because I love you.”

  The fire seared the declaration into his soul. She loved him? He found the word hard to comprehend. How could she love him, when she’d betrayed him?