The bell over the front door saluted his exit, and Anita sat back in her office chair and allowed herself an indulgent moment to lower her heart rate.
The Keystone Star Ball. In three weeks. With a partner who had been out of the game for over a year.
No. Not with any partner. With Patrick. Patrick.
A smile tugged at her lips.
Take that, two-faced Mikhail.
Chapter Two
Patrick was running early, but there was no way he would let Anita know he was actually that responsible. Besides, a man could not show up empty-handed when starting a new partnership. Well, dance partnership, but beggars could not be choosers.
To delay himself, he stopped off at Amore, his favorite café along Main Street, and bought a nonfat latte and a hot tea. He liked to present her with options. Or at least he had liked it, before he had escaped to NYC for three months. The distance hadn’t been enough to erase her from his mind. His traitorous heart had lapped up the sight of her yesterday like a man finding a chain coffee store in the middle of the Gobi Desert.
He paused for a moment outside the small shop, staring far too hard at the white plastic lids. Was she still trying to switch to tea? Maybe she would rather have had something else, like an I Heart NYC keychain or a snow globe from Rockefeller Center. Maybe he had never really known her at all.
If he kept dithering, he would one thousand percent be late, and that would not set him up for success. This was his last chance. She had broken up with Mikhail, and this was it. If he couldn’t figure out how to tell her how he felt now, he had to be done.
He timed his arrival at Lewis Dancesport Academy precisely at nine, exactly as some of the stragglers from Toni’s Zumba class were milling out of the studio.
“Morning, ladies.” He smiled, tipping a to-go cup near his forehead as if doffing a hat. “Good class?”
“Missed you today, Patrick,” Melanie Templeton said, the tilting of her lips not meeting her eyes. Of all the people who could have forgotten that he taught Zumba, why did she always remember? She was stick thin and had a brittle personality tomatch. Patrick knew she was married, but it didn’t seem to stop her from trying to fondle him at every opportunity. Had she never heard of boundaries? “My legs were on FIRE yesterday, and I couldn’t stop cursing you all night. Did you have to be awaysolong? No one ruffles our hair like you.” Despite her assertions, her carefully coiffed blonde ponytail seemed shockingly kempt.
What was the minimum modicum of respect he needed to show without in any way encouraging her?
“Mel, you are so bad!” Her shorter and nicer friend Kim Somebody-or-Other swatted her playfully on the arm. Clearly Melanie had been recruiting acolytes during his time in New York. At least Kim was better at keeping her hands on more socially acceptable parts of his anatomy and was less fond of the midriff-baring top. “Toni is great as always. It was just nice to have a switch-up yesterday.”
As if hearing her name had summoned her, Toni herself walked out of the studio, hefting her black sports duffel bag over her right shoulder and holding a ridiculously large water bottle in her left hand. She wore a fitted jumpsuit in three different neon colors that matched the beads in her long black braids.
Thank goodness for Toni. She had saved him before, when he and Anita had just opened the studio and offered to rent the space for Zumba classes. They had been in the black that month for the first time. Now she was doing it again.
“Ladies, let Patrick by,” Toni said smoothly in her Georgia drawl.
He raised a hand to her in thanks and waved goodbye to the ladies from Zumba. He could still feel Melanie staring daggers into his back. Well, let her stare. It didn’t hurt him. He would never do anything about it.
****
Patrick placed the drink cups and his dance bag on the floor so he could change his shoes, because he had learned the hardway that suede soles had no place outside a dance studio. Toni had left an ’80s pop song medley running on the sound system. The woman had excellent taste in music, less so in men. The Georgia girl had followed an ex-lover to Lewis, then had “lost the douchebag, kept the accent.”
And yes, he was definitely thinking about Toni to avoid thinking about Anita.
“You’re on time.”
He glanced up from tying his shoe and felt his heart catch a bit in his chest the way it always did when he saw Anita. It wasn’t just her poetry-inspiring looks, how she smelled of spring break trips to St. Barth’s. No, when he allowed himself to think it at all—which was close to never, for the preservation of his sanity—it was the little familiarities that he liked best. The black open cardigan that molded to her curves in the most casually sensuous way, the way a dimple appeared in her frown, the look of utter joy and peace on her face when she was dancing.
This was his last chance to tell her. He had been in the Friend Zone long enough to know there was no escape. Not even three months in New York had been far enough. The moon wouldn’t be far enough to forget her.
“I live to surprise you.” He stood, dance shoes now tightly laced, and held out the two cups. “Nonfat latte or tea?”
She grimaced and extended a cautious hand toward the tea. “I’m still trying to switch. There was this really good article about green tea being better for you. I guess I just am not strong enough to quit that first morning cup of coffee.”
“Then don’t.” He sipped the latte, the creamy bitterness coating his tongue. “Why deny yourself life’s simple pleasures?”
Anita turned back to the dance floor, her tight, blonde ponytail whipping behind her. Patrick had missed that kind of whiplash. “We have a TON to do today. I thought we would startwith Standard, do a test dance. If that works, great. If not, we can try Latin.”
“Why not just do a showcase?” He leaned against the check-in desk, latte in hand. “Only one dance to learn and not screw up.” She averted her gaze from him, but he could still see the way she bit her lip. Seriously, how did even the most mundane actions make him want to kiss her senseless? “Admit it. You want to beat Mikhail.”
