“Are you sure? I’ve got pretty decent penmanship and could add a line for you.”
I arched a brow. “Great. Then you can write your own liability waiver when you pull something trying to show off for the crowd.”
He laughed, warm and low. “I’ll risk it.”
“I don’t doubt it,” I said, already turning. “Just keep the dance floor drama to a minimum. This is a family event.”
“Noted.” He tipped his head toward the folder on the stereo. “How much did I miss by leaving section three blank?”
“Enough to slow you two weeks if you leave it like that,” I said. “The council likes documenting risk nearly as much as it likes lemon bars.”
“Good to know,” he said. “I’ll trade lemon bars for signatures if I have to.”
“Even the best lemon bars won’t influence approvals,” I said.
“Correct documentation will,” he said, and I felt the smile in his words even if I refused to return it.
He slowed our pace, and we eased through the last few measures of the song. I let myself look where his hand met my cardigan. A single thread had lifted at the hem. He noticed and brushed his thumb once along the line. It should have made me jump, but it didn’t.
“Rowan,” he said. My name in his mouth sounded like a promise he was trying not to break.
I stepped back, and the spell thinned. I held on to professionalism like a safety grip. “I think that’s enough for tonight.”
He released me immediately. “Thanks for being a good sport. For Harvey.”
Harvey pushed to his feet with his cane and gave me a formal nod. “You’ve never made a man feel less foolish,” he said. “Tell me that’s not a skill.”
“It’s not a skill,” I said. “It’s a function of distraction.”
He chuckled. “Well, it worked. Will you two show me one more time so I can watch the count?”
I should have said no. Instead, I agreed. “Just once more.”
We took the frame again. Dane adjusted the distance, asked without words, and I let him close the space. We moved cleanly through a box and a half turn. Harvey counted aloud, pleased. On the second turn, I glanced at our reflection in the studio mirror. The woman in the glass looked like me, but also didn’t. She looked like a person who understood her own balance better when someone else set the rhythm.
“That should be good,” I said, but didn’t step away for another three beats.
Harvey gathered his things. “I’m going to call it a night,” he said. “Ms. March, thank you. Dane, I’ll plan on Sunday at seven if that still works for you?”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Dane said.
Harvey paused in the doorway, tipped his cane in a half salute, and left us with the music still playing low.
Dane stood an arm’s length away, not moving, not performing, just present. He was very good at being present when he wanted to be.
“You didn’t have to stay,” he said.
“I came for a signature,” I said. The form on the stereo stared at me like the safest thing in the room. “I stayed for Harvey.”
“And for yourself?” he asked.
I wasn’t willing to go there. Not yet, maybe not ever. “If I receive the certificate by Monday afternoon, I can still get your packet on Thursday’s agenda.”
“I’ll get it.” He walked over to the stereo and turned off the music. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Maybe not for you, but it is for me. It’s late. Let me make sure you get to your car okay, will you?”
