The Romance Dance: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance Read online

  “Sorry.” His voice was raw and edgy. “You twirled at me so fast I couldn’t move out of the way quick enough. Stupid leg.”

  “I should’ve been watching where I was dancing.” She didn’t move. Stayed in the circle of his arms, enjoying the sensation.

  His expression softened with what appeared to be concern. “You have a bruise.”

  “A bruise?” From bumping into him?

  His finger brushed a hair across her forehead. “Here. From last night.”

  From him dropping the wrench.

  Her hand floated to the slight bump, knowing her body was pretty indestructible. Ballerinas might appear delicate and slim, but they were strong and unbreakable. Through training—or torture, as she’d called the triple daily workouts—she’d grown used to pain. “It’s nothing.”

  “I should’ve called you Black-and-Blue-Swan, instead of Blonde-Swan.” He dropped his other arm from around her and took a step back. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” The loss of his touch wasn’t. Which was weird. She wasn’t a touchy-feely person. It wasn’t how she was brought up. “What was the damage from last night? I mean, besides my forehead.” Her laugh sounded stilted and forced. Between the unusual sensation of loss when he’d dropped his arms and her lack of funds to pay for repairs, every bone in her body tensed.

  Glancing back at her piano, he flashed a short smile. “The pipe connection needed to be sweat-soldered.”

  She stretched on her toes. “Is that going to cost me?”

  “No. It was the plumber’s mistake. He’ll take care of the cost of fixing it.” He peered at the piano again.

  “You’ve already handled it?” An odd sensation at not having to fight for every little thing burgeoned inside her. Oddly nice. “What about your time? Helping me last night?” Her skin flared, remembering their intimate position lying on the floor next to each other.

  Reed’s cheeks reddened. Was he remembering the exact same thing? Her body heated more. “No worries. I’m the landlord. It’s expected.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.” Her bank account appreciated it, too. She still owed a debt. And she was intrigued by this man. Who better to take to dinner than a local involved in the business community? “Let me at least buy you dinner.”

  “No.” He backed away, as if she’d offered to castrate him, not feed him.

  The heat flowed out of her body leaving her cold. But you didn’t survive in the cutthroat ballet world without learning determination.

  “I insist.” She’d eaten enough lonely meals in her lifetime, and her landlord seemed interesting, unusual, layered. “You were really helpful last night. If the water had leaked until morning, this beautiful dance floor would be ruined.”

  “And I would’ve had twice the work.” Did he believe if he didn’t look at her it would be easier to say no? “I should be thanking you.”

  “Thank me by letting me buy you dinner.” She grabbed his forearm, and the thick muscles tightened beneath her hold. The proof of his strength spiraled to her core, and again, the thought of being protected grew. “One of my goals to get this studio going is to meet townspeople. You’re from Castle Ridge. If I take you to dinner, you can introduce me to people.”

  His face scrunched in a grumpy expression. “I don’t do people.”

  She captured his gaze, unwilling to let him win by avoidance. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t socialize. I don’t go out.”

  His don’t-argue-with-me tone had her scoffing. “Ridiculous. You talk to me.”

  His frown deepened, making his scowl more menacing. She’d seen worse scowls from choreographers and fellow dancers. The expression didn’t scare.

  She pushed. “You talk to your brother.”

  His menacing expression went darker. His frown resembled a U-turn sign, except his face flashed No. The mention of his brother made his attitude worse. Why? They got along last night.

  She wasn’t going to give up, even if she had to play the sympathy card. “Please. I need to get out and meet people, and you’re the only one in town I know.”

  * * *

  Reed should’ve said no.

  The negative response had perched at the tip of his tongue. And then Quinn had widened her Colorado-sky-blue eyes, never letting go of his gaze, and said please. She’d sounded lonely.

  Lonely, he could relate to.

  Not that he was lonely. He had his job, and the house he’d bought to work on. He had his brother and sister. That was all he needed.

  The second he entered the Castle Ridge Lodge and was greeted by Danielle Marstrand, he should’ve left. His sister’s best friend’s expression of shock registered, and his feet twitched, wanting to head back in the other direction. Except, Quinn was standing by his side. She’d wonder why he turned tail and ran like a coward.

  “Reed!” Danielle moved around the desk and opened her arms wide. Her short, brown hair swung with the movement. Her small stature didn’t impede the quickness of her stride. “What’re you doing here?”

  Quinn would also wonder why he was the town’s hermit.

  There were things he didn’t explain and didn’t talk about. “Can’t a guy go out for dinner, Dainty Danielle?”

  “Stop with the nicknames.” She hugged him like she always did. She’d been his sister’s best friend since middle school, and was considered part of his family. “I’m only questioning you going out for dinner.” She took a step back and stared at his new tenant. “Who’s this?”

  Quinn held out a delicate hand. “I’m Quinn Petrov. I’m opening a dance studio in town.”

  A ball bounced in his stomach, the rhythm one of disappointment. That’s right. His new tenant was here to meet people, not to be with him. He quickly punctured the ball with his will, not planning to analyze the emotion or the beat.

  “I’ve heard about the dance studio.” Shaking the dancer’s hand, Danielle appeared more than curious. “I’m trying to convince my teenage daughter to give ballet a try.”

  Quinn unzipped her jacket, revealing a fuzzy sweater. “I’ll be teaching other classes besides ballet. Your daughter might enjoy hip hop or tap dance.”

  He snorted. “Her daughter is a serious skier. That’s all she wants to do.”

  Danielle frowned and angled her head in consideration. “I want my daughter to try other things. Skiing isn’t a serious pursuit.”

  She had been on the ski team with him, and his sister, and several other people. She’d declared her hatred for the sport after giving birth to her daughter, but his sister had babbled on about another local skier who’d broken her heart. At least she could ski if she wanted to, unlike Reed.

  “I’m offering adult classes too.” Quinn took a business card out of her purse. “In fact, the first two weeks I’m offering free classes for people to come in and try a dance out.”

  “Why would you give away your services?” He didn’t think the idea was a good business decision.

  “To get people interested.” Her expression grew determined. As determined as when she’d decided she needed to buy him dinner. She reminded him of a concerto where the singer’s voice basically argued with the orchestra. He usually went along with things, never arguing or yelling. If he didn’t like something, he avoided it. “There’s never been a dance studio in town before. I want to teach people what it involves, how fun learning to dance can be.”

  “Sounds like torture.”

  She smacked his arm in a too-familiar way. “Then, I’ll make you my first victim.”

  The playful interchange seemed so normal, so happy, and for second he wished…. He noticed Danielle watching them. His entire body stiffened. His life was his life and he wouldn’t be altering for anybody. “No.”

  “It does sound fun. I’ll try a class, if I can fit it in between work and school.” She waved at her desk. “I need to get back to work. I’ll tell Isabel you’re here.”

  “Great. Just great.” More people to observe him out
of his element.

  “Isabel, your wife?” Quinn’s tone was stiff.

  Jealous or curious? Probably the latter.

  “Sister. She’s the sous chef.” A gossipy sister, who would spread the word he was out with a woman and bug him until she got the details about Quinn. He sighed. This was going to be long night.

  The hostess of The Heights restaurant led them to their table. A teenage girl whose parents owned a flower shop. A man he’d remodeled a kitchen for waved from a corner booth. Reed jerked his head in slight acknowledgement. He didn’t want the man approaching. A family sat at a long table. He’d gone to high school with both parents, and now they had an entire brood of children.

  The restaurant crowded in on him with people he knew and people he didn’t. People he recognized, and people he didn’t want to acknowledge. He hunched his shoulders, remembering one visit where he’d closed down the bar, playing tune after tune on the beat-up piano in the corner. He hadn’t eaten here since his return to town several years ago.

  He scanned past the large picture window showing the town’s main street leading to the mountain slope. Wishing he could escape from notice by swooshing down the mountain, he stumbled on his bum leg.

  “You okay?” Was graceful Quinn embarrassed to be with a cripple?

  This was a mistake. “We should order something to go.” That’s how he usually did things. Or his sister would bring leftovers to his apartment.

  “No.” Her firm voice matched her expression. “I want to meet people.”

  Not hide away like he did. They were opposites. Opposites in where they came from, and how they lived. Opposites about what they wanted for the future.

  “You should’ve gone out with my brother.” Solving the problem.

  Dax wanted to ask her out, while Reed didn’t want to go out with anyone. He didn’t.

  “We’re here now.” She laid a hand on his arm, her touch already becoming familiar and making him uncomfortable. “Your sister knows you’re here. Let’s stay.”

  The hostess stopped at a table in the center of the room. “Is this okay?”

  “Don’t you have a booth?”

  “I don’t want to hide in a booth.” Quinn nailed his plan.

  She was obviously becoming familiar with his habits, too.

  After settling at the table and placing their orders, Reed kept his head down. She might want to be seen, he did not. He never should’ve let her talk him into eating out and coming to The Heights. The lodge and restaurant belonged to a local family for generations, and while there were lots of tourists in the winter and summer, they were in the in-between season, when locals came to socialize.

  He noted the curious glances and sly looks. They recognized him and knew his reputation. The monster had come out of his cave, and not to complete a job. Izzy told him he was being ridiculous when he spoke the sentiment out loud. He didn’t think so.

  “Do you know anyone in the restaurant?” Quinn sat straight in her chair, a grin glued on her face.

  The clatter of cutlery mixed in his head with the clink of glasses. The noises blurred and separated, creating a tune in his head. Angling his head, he listened. He heard nothing now. Must be his imagination.

  “Some.” He might know them, but he felt like an outsider. He’d grown up with many of these people, and yet he was uncomfortable with them. Chit-chat wasn’t his forte. He’d been gone so long, and when he’d returned, he was nothing like his former self.

  “Anyone who might be interested in dance lessons?” She sounded so hopeful.

  She shouldn’t have picked him to introduce her around town. “Many of the guests are from out of town.”

  “A little early for skiing.” Her common sense put him in his place.

  Caught again.

  His sister Izzy, and Dax, didn’t push him to go out and be social. They enjoyed quiet dinners, at either Izzy’s house or Reed’s apartment. He let his siblings enjoy their party lifestyles. He was satisfied being home alone.

  Shifting uncomfortably, he lifted his head to check and see if anyone observed them. “There’s a couple over there who are married and have kids.” More people he’d gone to school with.

  “Will you introduce me?”

  “Let’s wait until after dinner.”

  “You’re right. We wouldn’t want to be rude and interrupt.” Her regal chin dipped, and her capitulation made him believe he’d won a battle. “I’m anxious about meeting people, them liking me, them being interested in the studio.”

  He pulled back in his seat. Insecurity from Quinn? She’d been a steamroller from the moment she’d decided to rent his property for her dance studio. He’d told his leasing agent not to rent to her because the music would drive him crazy. She’d persisted. Persisted on the renovations for her studio. Persisted on helping with the leak in her barely-there pajamas. Persisted about dinner.

  Their emailed communications had gone back and forth, with Reed finally caving. He knew he’d be moving into his house soon. Of course, that was before he’d met her piano. A piano drawing his attention while he’d worked in the studio.

  His own determination to stay apart weakened, and he gave in. “We’ll go to the bar after dinner. It will be easier to meet people.”

  Her lush lips lifted into an angelic smile. “That would be lovely.”

  The smile, her smile, shot through him like cupid’s arrow. His muscles tightened and his cock sprung. This wasn’t going to be good. With Quinn being his tenant and temporary neighbor, she was going to mess up the nice, quiet life he’d carved out since his accident. And he wasn’t ready for it to change. He never wanted his life to change. He was happy. Satisfied. Content.

  Her expression glowed before she bit a tempting lower lip. His twitching cock contradicted his satisfaction claim.

  “I don’t want to give a hard sell, but I need people to sign up for classes.” She bit her lower lip again. “I don’t know how informed you were during the negotiations I had with your leasing agent. I ran into a sticky financial situation.”

  He paused with his water glass halfway to his mouth. He wasn’t worried about her personally, he wasn’t. She was his tenant, and shouldn’t be sharing her financial details. The waiter brought their meals to the table and he decided not to return to that particular conversation.

  His steak had a strip of bacon shaped into a smiling mouth and two eyes made from tomatoes. One of the tomatoes had been cut into the shape of a wink.

  “So cute.” Quinn pointed with her fork.

  His sister’s teasing greeting. And a warning that when she was less busy in the kitchen, she’d be out to visit. He lost his appetite. “How’s your dinner?”

  Quinn had ordered the pasta special. She twirled the strings of spaghetti onto her fork similar to how she’d been twirling across her dance floor earlier, when she’d bumped into him and he’d held her close, inhaling her scent of roses.

  He eased his legs apart to lower the constriction. He couldn’t let this woman affect him. He had to avoid her until he finished the studio. He had to go back into his cave.

  “Wonderful.” She spun more pasta onto her fork and he stared entranced. Her long, slender fingers lifted the fork to her mouth. Her lips came around the fork and pasta, and he fantasized about something else in her mouth. Who ever thought eating pasta could be a sexual act? “Tell your sister the meal is fantastic.”

  “You can tell her yourself. I’m sure she’ll come say hi.” He was positive.

  “Would she be interested in a dance class?”

  “Izzy would love it.” He knew this for a fact, because his sister was the life of the party. Always laughing and dancing and flirting. She’d been the only light in his life since the accident.

  “How did you get started with your construction business?”

  He froze mid-saw of his steak. He couldn’t tell Quinn the truth. Didn’t want her sympathy. “I did construction in college.”

  “That must’ve been a lot of work.
Studying and working construction.” She continued to eat her pasta and he continued to salivate watching her. “Are you part of the Main Street Business Association?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? I thought it would be a great way to meet other business people and get involved in town.” Her eyes lit up like a candelabra, excited about the prospect.

  He didn’t mind making business contacts, it was the socializing part he hated. Planning meetings and happy hours. He’d done plenty of charity events and parties in his past. “It will be good for you.”

  “But not you?” She challenged.

  He scrambled for an acceptable answer. “I grew up here and know most of the people.”

  “Great.” Leaning forward, her cleavage pushed out in the tight sweater she wore. She emphasized with her fork, pointing at him. “You’re the perfect person to introduce me around.”

  He felt as if her fork stabbed him in the lungs. All the air leaked out of him. “I don’t want—”

  “The town’s grown quite a bit. A lot has changed since I visited my grandparents as a kid.”

  He didn’t need to be around her or anyone else. “Where do your grandparents live?”

  The spark in her gaze dimmed. Her expression became strained. “They had a house on Pearl Street.”

  His gut clenched. The same street where he’d bought a fixer-upper house. He hoped she didn’t visit them often. “I’m sure your grandparents could introduce you to people.”

  “They died several years ago.” Sniffling, her voice went raw.

  His weakening worsened. Cracks formed in his wall of self-imposed exile. He wanted to hold her close and take away her pain.

  “Reed.” Two arms wrapped around his neck.

  Cinnamon and other kitchen scents told him who it was. “Hello, Izzy.”

  “Danielle said you’d come here for dinner?” His sister sounded happy-surprised as she took an empty seat at the table. Her wide smirk displayed one emotion, the question in her green orbs displayed another. “And I heard you weren’t alone.” Izzy’s tone nudged. Her inquisitive gaze landed on Quinn.

  “This is my sister, Isabel. Sous chef and gossip extraordinaire.” He wasn’t sure how to describe Quinn. Beautiful. Determined. A pain in his ass. “This is Quinn Petrov. She’s my new tenant at the old Victorian house on Main Street.”