Page 18 of Dancing in the Dark

“I don’t know if she’d want me to tell you…” Grimacing, he presses his hand to the wall over my shoulder and leans a little closer. It’s not a seduction. It’s two magnets, incapable of staying apart. “She’s embarrassed.”

“I-I could ask her, if you’d prefer. But if asking would embarrass her…”

“She froze up,” he grunts. “Freezes up. The last three in a row. She begs to dance, begs me to practice with her, begs to listen to the music every damn day. She swears she wants this, but every time she steps onto the stage, she just…” He shrugs. “Stops. So then I try to talk to her about taking a break for a while. I don’t wanna be that clueless dad pushing his kid into something she doesn’t want, but every time I bring it up, she begs all over again and swears this is what she wants.”

“She’s in a loop,” I murmur. “Her words are saying one thing, but her actions say another.”

“Pretty much.” He dips a little closer, the tip of his nose brushing the shell of my ear. He doesn’t lean on me. His chest doesn’t press against mine, and his hands stay where they are. He simply inhales. Breathes. Absorbs. “If you have any advice on the matter, I’m ready to hear it.”

“Me?” I can’t pull back; the bricks would stop me even if I wanted to. And I can’t push forward… And I really want to. So I remain stock-still and pray my heart will calm the hell down. He’s smelling me. It’s not a declaration of love. It’s not a question of forever. It’s merely a man sniffing a woman. “Uh… well… I suppose I saw a few girls over the years suffer the same thing. Stage fright is a valid fear.”

“How did they fix it?”

They didn’t. In every single instance I can recall, they quit.

“I don’t know, and I’m not sure I could bring it up without making her feel like we’ve talked behind her back. Which might embarrass her more.”

He grunts his agreement, brushing his nose along the length of my ear. “Which puts us in another loop. Aren’t they fun?”

Don’t press your face to his chest. Do not press your face to his chest!

Even if you really want to.

“Maybe you could encourage her to tell me,” I rasp. “I danced my whole life, so you could lean on that and suggest talking to me might help.” But then insecurity washes through my veins and my shoulders draw up. “Though, on second thought, she probably already considered that and decided my advice wasn’t worth her time. I quit, too.”

“I wish I knew you back then.” He inches away and places a single finger beneath my chin, tilting my head back and staring down into my eyes. “I wish I knew you back when you were on the stage.”

“Because you have a kink for ballerinas?” Shut up, Seraphina! Fuck!

His lips curl into a devastatingly handsome grin. “Because I know you would’ve owned that stage. Because talent is talent, and passion is passion, even if outside pressures can get really fuckin’ heavy sometimes.”

My mother. My mother was that outside pressure.

“Because I think even on your worst days, when you didn’t even try and didn’t want to be up there, you were still the most captivating dancer inside that theater.” His eyes flicker between mine, then down to my lips. “My kink is seeing you in your element.”

The bar door opens, loud music pumping out to saturate the street, then Minka startles to a stop and grits her teeth. “Shit. Sorry.”

My hands are on Charlie’s hips. My legs straddling his thighs. Oh, God, my belly and his belly touch. I jump like my ass is on fire and slam my head against the underside of his jaw. My clumsiness knocks stars into his eyes and sends him stumbling back a step. Still, I bounce away from the wall and cup my burning cheeks. “This was nothing.” I exhale a shuddering breath and whip my hands behind my back once more. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Okay…” She grins. “I don’t believe you.”

“Did you need something?” I snap out. “Is Mia alright?”

“She’s fine. Cato’s in there now, and Aubree’s cake has been revealed, so she’s happy as a pig in mud.” She peeks across at Charlie. “We’re ready to sing Happy Birthday, so if you two are done out here…”

“We’re done.” I grab onto the door and sling myself past Copeland City’s Chief Medical Examiner in all her taunting glory. Striding across the threshold and into a room hotter than the air outside, louder than all the traffic combined, I scan the entire length of the bar and pray my pulse will slow soon.

Mia? Where’s Mia?

I find her on the bar, Cato’s obsessive gaze locked tightly on the five-year-old he would burn cities for.

If she decides to jump, he’s ready for her.

“Fifi!” Her beautiful gaze stops on mine, then she points straight down at her feet. “We’re gonna have cake! You like cake, dontcha? I was gonna save some if you didn’t come back in time.”

Jealousy flashes in Cato’s gaze, so he sweeps his girl off the bar before I can steal her, wild giggles bursting from the depths of her chest made louder as he squeezes her tight.

He’s blocking me, the way basketball players defend their ball on the court, but my hiatus from the stage my entire adult life has done nothing to dull my skills, so I swoop around the pair and pop up so he and I stand eye to eye. Then I scoop her straight out of his embrace and breathe easier, finally, as her arms and legs wrap securely around my body.