No reply would have been productive. He had been feeling a disconnect with Dana for some time, and in just a few short days, he had been reevaluating everything. How much of that had to do with his brunette landlord, he couldn’t even wrap his brain around. So in that respect, how could he be angry with Dana for having conflicted feelings?
“Let’s do this.” She cleared her throat. “Maybe we should just take this time apart to be on our own. You know, live our lives, and then when I’m back, we’ll see where we are.”
“I’m pretty sure I already see where we are.”
“It’s just that…”
“Dana, we don’t need to rehash what’s gotten us here.” He shrugged. “Here we are.”
She pulled her mouth in a downward curve. “Here we are.”
****
After the call ended, Shane looked around his temporary home. The loft was arranged with an economy of his belongings, with most of his stuff piled up in boxes in the storage unit. A warm glow of light filtered up from the lower level. He heard Kit moving around down there and closed his eyes. Right now he needed to separate himself from all of this. The call with Dana had been disturbing yet resolute. He still needed to process what had transpired, and spending more time with Kit tonight would do him no good. He knew that much. He was already too mixed up.
He picked up his cell phone and found Larry’s number in his contacts.
“Hey, Irish,” Larry said when he answered the call.
“Hi, Larry. What are you up to?”
“Just got off my shift, so I stopped for a beer at Jabberwocky’s.”
“Want some company?”
“Sure, come on over.”
****
Shane bolted down the stairs and announced he was going to meet a friend from the firehouse. Kit was relieved, really. She needed some space from the guy. Thinking about him was too confusing, and his presence was no help.
But she couldn’t help looking out the kitchen window. She watched the red glow of his taillights as he drove up the driveway and made a left toward town. Her phone rang, the display telling her that it was Mom. She closed her eyes. Connecting the call, she opened the fridge and pulled out a new bottle of wine.
“Hi, Mom.” She cradled the phone to her ear with her shoulder while she fiddled with the wine opener.
“Hi, baby,” her mother singsonged. “Am I interrupting you two kids or anything?”
“What?” For a second she’d forgotten she was supposed to be one half of a couple. “Oh, no. Shane, uh, is meeting one of the guys from the firehouse.”
“That’s nice. I like when a man has friends, don’t you?”
“I never thought about it, but yeah, I guess so.” She pulled the cork out of the bottle and went to the cabinet for a glass.
“Believe me, Kit. You’ll be glad he’s got friends to go play with when you are an old married couple. It’s good when they’re not underfoot all the time.”
“Mom, don’t go jumping the gun, okay? Nobody said anything about getting married.” She took a sip of her wine.
“Not yet, but I have a feeling….” Mom’s voice rose with giddy anticipation.
After another sip, Kit asked, “Is there something specific you called about, Mom?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. Did you know the whole bunch is going for dance lessons for the wedding?”
“I heard.”
“Not just the bridal party, mind you. The whole family and some of their friends, too. Dee Dee wants me to take part. She even mentioned asking you and Shane.”
“God, Mom, what’s wrong with these people? Is this a Stepford wedding where everybody has to dance the same way or something?”
“Stepford? Who’s that?”
“Never mind, but that’s just ridiculous.”
“I guess that means you two wouldn’t be interested.”
“Hell no.” She enjoyed another taste of her wine.
Mom chuckled. “Even if it means you can watch Brian attempt to be Fred Astaire?” Now she laughed out loud. “Can you imagine? That Ichabod Crane of a man trying to finesse those shovels he calls feet?”
Mother and daughter shared a laugh. Maybe it was the wine, but Kit got a kick out of the image her mother conjured by likening her ex to Irving’s character from “Sleepy Hollow.”
When the call ended, Kit’s mood was light, and after a second pour of white zinfandel, she went into the living room and turned on the TV. Pushing buttons on the new smart device, she found what she was looking for. An instructional YouTube video on ballroom dancing.
Chapter Eighteen
Jabberwocky’s was jammed when Shane got there, but he found Larry at the far end of the bar, nursing a pilsner of suds.
“Irish.” Larry motioned his head to the empty stool beside him. “Take a load off.”
He took a seat and waited for the bartender to come over. His head was spinning, and it felt good to be out. His conversation with Dana was on his brain as was the problem of his pull toward Kit.
“I know a man that needs a beer when I see one.” Larry waved over the bartender and with a hand gesture signaled ordering Shane a drink.
He liked Larry. He’d been the one to take Shane under his wing with the other guys at the station. It turned out Larry was the jokester in the bunch. He was quick-witted and could spew out a caustic barb as if he had them waiting on the back of his tongue.
“So what’s on your mind, my man? I could tell you’ve got some serious stuff to work out based on the way you took it out on that equipment you washed yesterday.” Larry chuckled as he brought his glass to his lips.
“What are you talking about?” He thought of how yesterday morning he and Larry had detailed the hook and ladder. He’d been nervous about going to Kit’s family party but mostly conflicted about Kit herself.
“You took it out on the equipment. Damn, I practically sat back and just let you go. Made my life easier, so I’m not complaining. Those trucks never looked so good.”
Now Shane laughed. “Hey, maybe I was just trying to pick up your slack.”
“Buddy, I figured it was some kind of therapy. Honestly, though, something eating you?”
“It’s a long story.”
“You worried about the certification test?”
“Who wouldn’t be? There’s a lot to learn, but no.”
“Okay, that leaves the obvious. It’s a woman.”
Shane guzzled his beer, then looked over at his friend. “Try two women.”
“Oh, okay, now we’re talking. Irish, I’m all ears.”
It felt good to spill his guts to a friend. He told Larry about his relationship with Dana and about her current gig in Milan. He explained how things were different with them and how each day it seemed as if they were more and more disconnected. He told him about their last conversation and how they’d agreed to take a break.
“Sounds to me like this chick’s looking to have her cake and eat it, too, bro. She’s over there in Italy and doesn’t want to feel like she’s messing around behind your back, so she’s calling for some time off. You willing to wait around for her to come back and pick things up again with you?”
Shane shook his head. “I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen.”
“That’s one woman. What’s the deal with the other one?”
Then he told him about Kit and his living arrangement with her.
“Wait, so you’re living with one girl and might be still dating another one?”
“No.” His protest was loud. “Technically, maybe, but it’s not like that. Kit, she’s the one I’m renting the room from, was supposed to just be my landlord.”
“But…”
“But, well, it’s so complicated now.”
“All ears, Irish.”
So Shane told him about the way he’d needed a place to stay to meet the stipulations of the job. He told him about the ruse he and Kit were playing for the sake of her family, and as he reiterated the story, he could
barely believe his own ridiculousness.
Larry laughed like hell. “Are you serious?” He laughed again. “It’s like you agreed to all the bullshit of a relationship with none of the perks. Good job, Irish.”
“This is just between us, Larry, okay? As it is, I feel like shit most of the time.”
“Hope you’re not feeling bad for the one across the pond. She’s over there having some Italian fun. Why shouldn’t you have some of your own?”
“It’s not like that. I mean, honestly, I’m not sure there’s any hope for Dana and me.”
“Dana’s the girlfriend.”
“Yes.”
“So? No problem, then. Is there something already going on with the landlord?”
“No.” Shane finished his beer. “Up until now there was Dana, and I’m no cheater. But I don’t know. Things are different now.”
“I’m telling you, man, chicks complicate everything.”
With a commiserating nod of his head, he patted Larry on the back. “I have to go, but thanks for listening.”
“Hey, there are worse things to worry about than having two women in your life.”
“Yeah,” Shane said. He pinned on a smile he did not feel and tried to come up with something light to kill the dour mood. Larry was a fun guy, a quick friend, and Shane didn’t want to have one of his coworkers thinking he was a downer or a pansy but a guy’s guy. Early impressions mattered. “Two’s tough. I better take my vitamins, I guess, huh?”
Larry emitted a crack of laughter and saluted his dwindling ale. “Cry me a river, bro.”
****
On the way back to the cottage, Shane turned on the radio to drown his thoughts. His conversation with Larry replayed in his head, the sound of Larry’s laugh at Shane’s stupid comment about needing to take vitamins. Where had that come from? He didn’t feel at all jovial or snarky about Dana or his growing attraction to Kit.
He reached over to find his favorite country station and was glad it was playing one of those shit-kicking songs with a lot of twang and steel pedal guitar. He was no singer—that was for sure—but he belted out the lyrics in the solitude of his truck, hoping the words would crowd out the troubling thoughts in his head.
He parked his truck and went up to the door of the cottage. The lights were on in the kitchen and the living room. Hand on the doorknob, he still felt odd to just walk right in. But he did.
He took in the scene in front of him in the living room. With a half-empty wineglass dangling precariously in one hand, Kit faced a video playing on her flat-screen television. It was some sort of a dance tutorial with an old-fashioned looking couple, the blonde in a puffy pink dress and her hair up in a fancy sweep of stiff cotton candy, the guy mustachioed and wearing a tuxedo.
The man spoke to Kit from the screen. He had an accent, European of some kind, Latin. “Now, again,” he said as he stared out from the television. “One, two, slide, together.”
Shane watched as she attempted to follow along. The couple moved in unison with measured steps. Their eyes appeared glazed over, the woman looking off to the left, the man looking off to the right. Kit lifted her arms and held them in the air, as if she were with a partner. She stepped and stepped again. She slid her foot outward and snapped it back, tilting her body in the effort where she knocked against the sharp edge of the coffee table. An expletive shot from her mouth. He couldn’t help it. He laughed.
At that she spun around and stared at him. She sucked in her breath, and a hand went to her chest, as if he’d caught her naked.
****
“When did you get back?” Kit spread her arms wide, a futile attempt to shield Shane from seeing the video. She wanted to shut the damn thing off, but the remote was on the sofa, and her feet wouldn’t move. “How long have you been standing there?”
“I just got here.”
“Well, you should have announced yourself or something.” She willed her feet to carry her across the room to grab the remote. Behind her the man in the video called out “Let’s try again, shall we?” She groaned. “You can’t be sneaking up on me.”
“I didn’t,” he said. “I mean, I’m sorry if I interrupted your, um, lesson.”
She flew to the sofa and grabbed the remote. “Lesson,” she said as she fiddled with the buttons. “Who said I was taking a lesson? I was just…” She thought she’d pressed the Off button but instead hit Pause. The man in the tuxedo and the woman he held in his arms were frozen in a stalled twirl, and the looks on their faces were ghostly with dull-eyed stares.
She turned from the screen and looked at Shane. Although his face was appealing with that smirky smile, she was tempted to throw the damn remote right at it.
He took a step closer and pointed to the screen. “Is, um, that an attempt to be ready for the wedding?”
“No.” She took a swallow of her wine, eyes still on him. “Maybe.”
“Kit, not for anything, but do you really think that’s the kind of dance lessons the bride and groom and who knows who else are taking?”
“I don’t know. I told you I know zero about dancing.”
“Look at those two.” He closed the space between them. “That guy there looks like the Count from Sesame Street, and that lady looks like she’s from the fifties.”
“Well, the video said it was classic ballroom dance. Who cares how long ago it was filmed? Classic is classic.”
He took the remote from her hand. His fingers touched hers, and the touch lingered for a moment while their eyes met. “May I?”
She finished her wine and put the empty glass onto the coffee table. “Okay, Fireman, let’s see you do any better.”
He pressed the button, and the outdated couple on the screen resumed their synchronized circling of the dance floor.
“Look at them, Kit. Do they look like they’re enjoying themselves?”
Head tilted, she studied the screen. “Not really, but whoever said dancing was fun?”
“It is fun, though. But you’d never know it watching these people. Why would anybody want to move like them?”
Kit shrugged. “My entire family wants to, apparently.”
“What do you want, Kit?”
She met his gaze. “Among all the other reasons to detest this wedding, I’d like to not be a loser wallflower while everyone else is doing that.” She circled her hand in the air toward the TV screen. “As it is, I’m attending the event with my pretend boyfriend. The pretend boyfriend that everybody thinks is just wonderful, the one that makes my mother all twinkly eyed when she looks at us. The only thing I’m good at, apparently, is lying.”
He laughed. “So your family’s convinced we’re a couple. Isn’t that what we set out to do?”
“Well, yes.”
“Okay, one problem down. Now, what’s your biggest issue with dancing?”
“No rhythm.”
“No rhythm.”
“Zilch.”
“You like music?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, that’s a start.” He pushed some buttons on the device in his hand. “Let’s find something from this century and see what happens.”
“Shane, it’s no use. I can’t.”
“Let’s have a go at it.”
She grabbed her empty wineglass. “I need wine.”
In the kitchen she poured herself a half glass of the white zinfandel from the fridge. She took tentative steps to watch Shane as he scrolled through music videos on her television. His black hair curled at his collar, and she wondered what it would feel like in her fingers. Stop. She groaned.
Shane turned to the sound. “Hey, I found a good one. Come here.”
Just the way he beckoned caused her insides to melt like chocolate on a stove. If she were at all wise, she would listen to that little voice in her head and go lock herself in her room. But she and her glass of wine went to him. Just moments ago she couldn’t get her damn feet to move. Now, apparently, they wanted to dance.
A picture of a pop arti
st appeared on the screen while his song played. It was a more current song with an easy, pleasant beat, one that Kit recognized.
“You like this one?”
She nodded.
“Okay, so let yourself go with it.”
“Go with it.” She snorted. “Yeah, okay.”
Slowly he began to step left and then right, his hips swaying in with each step. It was an easy pendulum of movement. She swallowed hard.
She took a pull of her wine. No way.
“Come on. Just feel the beat.”
Don’t coax me to feel, Fireman.
She put the glass on the coffee table. No more wine. As it was, his swaying hips were making her dizzy.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him.
“No, no, no…”
“Relax, girl. Here, stand in front of me, and I’ll guide you.” He turned her to face away from him. She felt his breath on her neck.
“I can’t.” Are you nuts?
“I’m telling you, Kit, give it a chance. Feel it, and then we’ll take some steps. Okay? Move with me.”
Feel it? Trying really hard not to, but yes.
Shane put his hands at her waist. An electrical charge ignited through her as if she’d been struck by lightning. She sucked in her breath, and he loosened his grip. She turned her head around to face him. The look in his eyes made her insides tumble over on themselves. Her heart thumped with the knowledge that this guy who was helping her with her ridiculous ruse was just trying to help her some more.
What the hell? She turned to face him and placed her hands over his. “Okay, Fireman, show me.”
They swayed to the tune that floated from the speakers. They moved in unison, side to side, each step causing their bodies to touch. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the gentle and rhythmic touch of his body, his hands firm at her waist, but she felt herself softening, becoming malleable, liquid almost. She flowed on the tune that filled her ears. He spun her around slowly, and when she came around to face him again, his eyes held hers. She closed her eyes as the music enveloped her, entered her through each and every pore.
“You’re doing it,” he whispered in a low, soft tone as his face came close to her ear. “I knew you could if you gave yourself the chance.”
Mr. Maybe Page 11
