“Here you go,” our waitress chimes as our food is delivered.
The conversation about work is put on hold for a while as we begin enjoying our meal which is a relief for me. After about two weeks at Rescue Four I feel I’ve earned the respect of most of my fellow squad members. I knew the respect wouldn’t come automatically. One has to prove themselves to become an accepted member of the team. That I understand, and respect, honestly. I even realized some would have trouble accepting me onto the team because of the way my current position became available.
A teammate had been severely injured in a fire.
Most of the guys had come around. Figured out that I wasn’t the enemy. The ones who didn’t I couldn’t give a shit about. I just needed them to be reliable in the middle of a fire or a rescue. Other than that, they could fuck off. All except one. Don.
He’s been a thorn in my side since my first day. And it wasn’t his standoffish attitude. That, I could let roll off my back. It was the fact that he, of all people, had me feeling like there was some information being withheld from me. As if there was a secret almost everyone in the station knew that I didn’t. I hate being kept out of the loop, and I already made a decision to do something about it.
“We have to get the churros! With the chocolate sauce,” Janine declares as we peruse the dessert menu.
“Churros with chocolate sauce and the flan,” I say to the waitress as I hand her back my menu.
“The music’s getting louder,” Janine notices, looking around the restaurant dining area.
“That’s because their dance lessons start soon.”
She turns to me, surprised. “Lessons?”
I nod. “They just added flamenco and salsa lessons on the first Friday of the month.”
“And of course you chose this Friday to bring me here.”
My smile grows. “Naturally.”
“I’m not dancing,” she declares as our dessert is brought to us.
I wink and toss her a cocky smile.
****
Janine
I specifically said Iwasn’tgoing to dance. So how the hell am I front and center of the dancefloor, with my arms in the air, listening intently for the next instruction of our dance instructor? I wanted to say no, but when Emanuel pulled me onto the dance floor and whispered in my ear that he wanted to see my hips swaying in this dress, how could I resist?
Now if I can just get past my fear long enough to let loose a little bit and move to the beat of the music, I might not actually make a fool of myself.
“Tuh,” I push out on a breath. I am the queen of overthinking, especially when I feel out of place and as if everyone is watching me.
“It’s just me and you, butterfly,” his warm, deep voice soothes in my ear.
How does he know exactly what I need to hear?
His hands slide to my waist and I feel his hips pressing against my backside. “No one else is here, but me, you, and Marc Anthony.”
Our laughter melds together as Marc Anthony’s “Dimelo”continues to play. I grow warm inside when the sound of the famous salsa singer is replaced by Emanuel’s voice. He’s singing in perfect Spanish, serenading me as he manipulates my body to dance in time with the music. We’ve stopped listening to the directions coming from the front of the dance floor. There is an ease that comes over me in Emanuel’s arms. One I hadn’t even noticed I needed or wanted but it’s there. He’s made my confidence grow, and with it, the hesitation is removed.
I begin moving in time with the music almost effortlessly. Emanuel spins around to face me and it truly becomes just the two of us in the room. My steps lose their hesitancy and resistance to the music. When Emanuel twirls me around, I go with ease, knowing I’ll end up right back in his arms, where I belong. He is a natural at this … either that, or he’s had lots of practice. But I don’t concern myself with thinking about the different women he’s performed these same dance moves with. It’s just us, here and now, which is right where I need to be. And I get the suspicion it’s where he needs to be as well.
“That was so much fun,” I sigh as Emanuel gets behind the driver’s seat of his car. Pressing my back against the cool leather seat, I squeeze my hands at my sides, still feeling the energy of dancing vibrating through me. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that good after a night of dancing.”
He gives me a strange look. “You didn’t go out dancing with your girlfriends in college?”
I frown, thinking back to my time in college. I shrug. “Sometimes, but I don’t know … that was different.” I keep to myself that I met my boyfriend mid-way through my sophomore year at Boston College, and after that, going out dancing with my friends became a rarity. Matt didn’t like going out with my friends, though I often tagged along with him when he went out with his, at his request. Those nights weren’t very enticing when it came to letting down my hair and enjoying myself so much.
“Hegot in the way, huh?”
I glance over, not understanding the almost possessive tone in Emanuel’s voice. His eyes are narrowed as he stares me down.
