Dancing Shoes and Honky-Tonk Blues

by MCLANE, LUANN

  I have the sudden need to feel his bare skin beneath the palms of my hands and as if reading my mind he sheds his jacket and then tugs at mine. Soft red flannel shirt tucked into Wrangler jeans and designer clothes be damned . . . there’s nothing sexier than this. With a thumping heart, I slide my hands up the soft fabric, loving the feel of the hard contours of his chest, the wild beat of his heart. He sweeps my hair to the side and places moist, nibbling kisses on my neck while I unbutton his shirt with trembling fingers. A breathy sigh escapes me when I feel his smooth, warm skin, the tickle of chest hair, and the bump of his nipples. He’s got the lean and whipcord-hard body of a natural athlete and a hard worker.

  Danny inhales sharply and his stomach muscles quiver. In the back of my mind I know I should end this before it goes too far but I can’t quite stop myself from exploring every inch of his bare chest. When I run my fingertip over the top of his belt just grazing his skin he goes very still and I immediately stop, figuring that I must have done something wrong. Wow, if I’m bad at this part just how bad will I be in bed? I’m guessing that it’s best he doesn’t find out, so I try to take a step back but he puts his hands on my waist, holding me firmly.

  “Abby, baby, I’m only human,” he tells me in a husky tone and then inhales a deep breath.

  “I know what you mean,” I say with a nod. In truth I have no clue what he’s getting at but I’m thinking that agreement sort of covers all the bases.

  “If you keep touching me like that . . .” He stops and shakes his head.

  My gaze travels south and when I see the telltale bulge in his jeans I understand what he’s getting at. Oh. I suddenly realize that I’m at a crossroads and Danny is waiting for me to make up my mind and I have to say that I’m leaning heavily toward the road less traveled . . .

  Of course jumping into bed with him would probably be stupid and I suppose wrong and could complicate the competition. I wonder if there’s something in that big packet that I should be reading about having sex with one of the other contestants. Good Lord, that would be totally humiliating to be disqualified for such a thing. Then again, this is Comedy Corner so anything probably goes . . .

  “Abby, I’m sorry,” Danny says, interrupting my decision-making process. Taking a step back he shakes his head and says, “What was I thinkin’?”

  I don’t know how to reply but since my face feels as hot as a match that’s just been struck he must know that I’m embarrassed. I wouldn’t be surprised if my hair suddenly burst into flames. While I was contemplating hopping into bed, Danny was looking for the escape hatch. I close my eyes for a moment and inhale a deep breath. Did I really just throw myself at him? I open my eyes and see his unbuttoned shirt.

  Yes, I did.

  My heart starts pounding and my legs tremble, making me plop down onto the edge of the bed. “I should be making meat loaf.”

  “What?” Danny looks at me like I’m one wrench short of a toolbox.

  “I should be at the diner right now helping my mama make her meat loaf for the supper crowd.”

  “Abby, I’m sure she has the situation under control.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t. The competition hasn’t even started and I’ve already made a fool of myself by throwing myself at you.” I put my hands over my face.

  “Abby . . .” Danny says softly.

  When I don’t respond he gently pries my hands from my face. I open my eyes to see that he’s kneeling down in front of me and I try to swallow the tight ball of emotion clogging my throat but fail.

  “Make no mistake, what just happened here was more than mutual. In fact I was the one who kissed you.”

  “Yeah, after I told you to.” I would put my hands back over my face but he’s still holding them.

  Danny chuckles softly, leans forward, and gives me a tender, lingering kiss. “There,” he tells me gruffly, “all my doing.”

  I hold on to the edges of his open shirt and ask, “Then what was the apology for and the ‘what was I thinkin’?’ comment all about?” My voice has a little hitch in it and I feel on the verge of tears. “We’re moving way too fast, aren’t we?”

  “Yeah. There’s no denying the attraction and you’re a hellava woman but we’ve both got some issues, and then there’s the whole ballroom dancing thing. As much as I hate to say it we need to cool our jets.”

  “Okay,” I agree glumly but not because I know he’s right. His mouth is so very close and he’s looking at me with those deep blue bedroom eyes shaded by dark lashes that no man has the right to have, and I have to say that my resistance just isn’t that strong. Without realizing it I’m leaning forward.

  “Ah, Abby,” he says and gives me a featherlight kiss that manages to pack quite a punch. My eyes are still closed when he says, “You’re not making this easy.”

  “Nothin’ worthwhile ever is.”

  He gives me a smile that makes my toes curl and says, “So true . . . and worth the wait.”

  At this point I’m ready to throw the whole waiting scenario out the window but he stands up and begins buttoning his shirt. After clearing my throat I say, “I guess I’ll see you down at the orientation, then?”

  Danny looks up from his task and nods. I watch him walk toward the door, admiring his jean-clad butt, and sigh. He puts his hand on the doorknob but then pauses and turns around. “Ya know, Abby, I know that this is a competition and we could all use the money, but I want you to know that you can come to me if you need me. Okay? If anyone pushes you around or gives you a hard time, promise me that you’ll come to me.”

  “Okay,” I say softly.

  With a satisfied nod he leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.

  “Ohmigod.” I fall back into the mattress and stare up at the ceiling. I’m touched beyond words that he wants to protect me. No guy has ever done that before and it makes me feel . . . I don’t know . . . treasured or something. Since my daddy died Mama and I have had to fend for ourselves and I suddenly realize how hard it must have been for her to lose that security of having a man to look out for her. I think about how she blushed and flirted with Mitchell Banks and it occurs to me that she deserves to feel feminine. I mull this over for a few minutes and then think about how extraordinary this day has been . . .

  “Wow,” I murmur softly, “Danny Becker kissed me. Wanted to be with me.” I could think this is all a figment of my imagination but I spot his jacket on the floor where he tossed it in our moment of heated passion. I swallow and close my eyes, reliving the kiss once and then again. I have the sudden need to call someone and tell them . . . but who? Calling Mama would be awkward and Jesse would just laugh.

  I really want to call Misty Falls, my best friend since kindergarten. Yes, her mama named her after the town. I know her name sounds like it’s a cheesy tourist attraction and should be painted on the side of a barn: See Misty Falls. She was Misty Morgan when we were kids but she’s married with a baby on her hip and one on the way, so she tends to be a bit unstable and sometimes envious of my single status. Funny because I think that she’s living the picket fence American dream. I suppose the grass is always greener . . .

  With a huge yawn and a stretch I realize that I am a bit tired after all, but I glance over at the big packet that I’m supposed to read and I sigh. “Better get to it,” I mumble. “Maybe I’ll just rest my eyes for a moment or two. . . .”

  5

  Reality Check

  “Oh, stop. . . .” I grumble when a thumping sound interrupts my dream that for some reason involves penguins sunbathing on a sandy beach. I turn to my side and cradle my head beneath my hands, wanting to see a penguin hang ten, but the darned thumping persists. It almost sounds like someone is knocking at my door.

  “Oh no!” I jackknife to a sitting position and brush my tangled hair from my face. Someone is knocking! I scoot from the bed and head for the door, tripping over Danny’s jacket, causing a stop, drop, and roll sort of tumble to the carpet. With a little groan I scramble to me feet and hobbl
e to the door while rubbing my left knee.

  “Danny!”

  “I came for my coat and I thought I might walk you down to the orientation.” With a frown at my disheveled appearance he adds, “You’re going, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I fell asleep,” I breathlessly explain over my shoulder as I pick up his jacket. “I’ll meet you down there, okay? I have to tidy up a bit.”

  “Okay,” he says as he glances at his watch, “but you’d better hurry or you’ll be late. It starts in just a few minutes.”

  “I will. Save me a seat.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Thanks.” I thrust his jacket at him, close the door, and then hurry to the bathroom. “Good Lord, would ya look at me?” My toiletries are somewhere in my huge pile of stuff but I don’t have time to go digging for them. I manage to locate a comb in my purse and then begin tugging at the tangles in my bed-head hair while cursing at myself for letting this happen. “Just how in the world did I manage to sleep for two solid hours?” I cringe at my appearance but that will just have to suffice. Hopefully this is just an informal gathering anyway. As I hurry from my room I spare a glance at the unread orientation packet and hope that there isn’t a test or anything, because I’ll fail miserably.

  While I hightail it down the hallway I hope that I’ll meet up with someone else so I don’t have to walk in alone, but since I’m a good ten minutes late that doesn’t happen. After turning the last corner I know that I should just slip quietly into the room but I’m so dazzled by the touches of elegance in the otherwise rustic banquet hall that I stop dead in my tracks and put my hand over my mouth. Fat candles atop round linen-covered tables give the room a soft glow. Fresh-cut flowers are everywhere, filling the air with a sweet scent. I inhale deeply and have to smile.

  “Miss Harper, how nice of you to join us,” Mitchell says to me from the podium at the front of the room.

  My smile fades when for a heart-stopping moment I think Mitchell’s angry with me, but when he winks I breathe a sigh of relief. Everyone, though, looks my way and I hope that the dim lighting hides my blush. Danny discreetly motions with a sideways nod for me to sit next to him. With a grateful smile I head to Danny’s table and slide into the seat next to him. This draws a bit of a frown from Julia, who is sitting directly across from Danny. I suppose if I think it’s over between the two of them I had better think again.

  “Hello,” I say in general to everyone at the table.

  Travis Tucker, the farmer, gives me a wide smile and a friendly nod. “Hey there, Abby.” His beard is trimmed and his rather long hair is slicked back. He’s wearing a white, neatly pressed dress shirt and it occurs to me that I’ve never seen him in anything other than worn overalls. I smile, thinking that he cleans up very nicely.

  “Hey, Abby.” Daisy Potter, the cashier from the Piggly Wiggly, gives me a friendly nod but then turns her undivided attention back to Travis. I’m used to seeing her in a uniform with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. But now she looks younger and pretty in a soft yellow dress with her brown tresses framing her face.

  “Hello, Abby,” Julia says a bit stiffly but I give her a smile anyway. Her hair is swept back from her face in a fancy twist and she’s wearing a cream-colored silk blouse, making me feel frumpy in my jeans and turtleneck. For the first time I notice that servers are bringing around tossed salads. With a glance around the room I see that everyone else is dressed up, too. Swallowing a groan I realize that this information must have been in the packet that I didn’t read. Deciding that I’m just going to have to wing it—and winging it is not something I’m good at—I take the fancy folded napkin and smooth it over my lap.

  Patsy James, the florist, is sitting directly to my left. “Aren’t the flowers amazing?” she gushes.

  “They’re lovely,” I agree and accept a basket of bread from her. When I fold back the white linen the yeasty aroma makes my mouth water and I realize that I’m famished. I immediately tear off a soft, warm piece and pop it into my mouth.

  “Hungry?” Danny asks close to my ear. His voice is low and teasing, making me all too aware of what almost transpired between us just a little while ago. I nod and almost choke on my roll when his leg presses up against mine and he says, “Me too.”

  An accident? I sneak a peek at him beneath my lashes but he’s busy buttering a slice of dark rye bread. I notice that Julia narrows her eyes at me but quickly averts her gaze when she realizes that I’m looking her way.

  I’m wondering whether Danny is cozying up to me to get to Julia while I’m glancing randomly around the room. I suddenly think to myself that as far as I can tell all of the contestants in the competition are single. With a frown I look around again, thinking that I must be mistaken, but I’m pretty sure that I’m right. I wonder if this is because being away from a family would be harder for married people, but then again maybe this is for added drama? Jesse never mentioned that you had to be single to be a contestant . . .

  “Ranch?” Patsy asks, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Yes, thanks.” I accept the silver boat from her and drizzle some dressing over my salad before passing it to Danny. I pick up the smaller of the two forks and start to stab a cherry tomato when I hesitate. This isn’t like any salad I’ve ever consumed before. I poke at it a bit and wonder just what some of these greens are. There’s shaggy sprigs and purple leaves and not a carrot or radish in sight. The cherry tomato is the only familiar thing.

  “Looks like a danged bunch of weeds,” Travis remarks and Daisy giggles. He takes a big bite and wrinkles up his nose. “Tastes like weeds too.”

  “It’s a spring mix,” Julia says in a rather snooty tone but I notice that she isn’t exactly gobbling hers up either.

  “Yeah, a spring mix of weeds,” Travis says and Daisy giggles harder.

  I take a tentative bite and it’s not too bad, just a little limp or whatever, but maybe it’s just because I’m so hungry.

  “I hope that the main course is a little more normal,” Danny says, voicing what I had been thinking.

  Servers hover, refilling our water, iced tea, and coffee. When wine is offered I decline, thinking that I need my wits about me and since my strawberry wine incident I’ve avoided it altogether. I’m hoping that we aren’t given something that you have to crack open like crab or lobster since I know I would screw that up like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. I’m wondering if all of this elegance is put before us as a kind of welcoming gesture or to trip us plain folks up. I’m hoping for the former but since I see that cameras are quietly filming us I’m thinking the latter. When I’m served my main course I place my hand on the waiter’s arm and ask in a low voice, “Could you tell me what this is?”

  “Beef medallions, asparagus, and new potatoes.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him, relieved that it’s not veal. I can’t stomach eating anything that’s a baby. Had I been asked I would have told them to hold the yellow sauce artfully drizzled over the rounds of beef, but when I dip my fork in for a tentative taste I actually like the tart, buttery flavor. I notice that everyone else at our table is picking and tasting except for Travis, who is tucking into his food like it’s his last meal.

  “Well, this is just simply delicious,” Patsy says with a satisfied smile.

  “Yeah, I sure could get used to this,” Daisy agrees.

  I’m about to comment on the sauce when I suddenly remember that cameras are filming our every move. I wonder if there are hidden microphones in the flower arrangement or something.

  “What’s wrong, Abby? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Danny said.

  “I do believe that the cameras are rolling,” I whisper to him.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” he whispers back. “You think somethin’s about to happen?”

  “Didn’t your mama teach y’all that it’s not polite to tell secrets?” Julia asks with a little smile but there’s a bit of frost in her tone.

  “We were just noticing that the cameras are rolling
,” Danny says smoothly.

  “Oh?” Julia looks around with wide eyes.

  We all turn toward the front of the room when lights flash and music begins. A moment later Mitchell Banks steps up to the podium, the music fades, and he says, “Welcome, everyone! I’m Mitchell Banks, CEO of Comedy Corner and executive producer of Dancing with the Rednecks.” Putting up both hands he continues. “First of all I want to tell you that we are using the term redneck with a sort of tongue-in-cheek fondness and not in a derogatory sense. In fact, I’m so impressed and charmed by the town and residents of Misty Creek that although I usually turn the show over to the director at this point, I’ve decided to stay on and watch the competition firsthand.”

  When he pauses we all applaud but I have to wonder if my mother is the one who charmed and impressed him. Mitchell is smooth, polished, and intelligent but if he does anything to hurt my mama I’ll have to kick his butt all the way back to sunny California.

  Mitchell takes a sip of water while the applause dies down. “Hopefully you’ve had a chance to read through the orientation packet so you know how the competition will work. You will have long hours of rehearsals throughout the week with an instructor from Starlight Dance Studios, the top national chain of dance studios in the country. You will be allowed to leave Rabbit Run Lodge for emergency family or work-related situations but on a limited basis.”

  He pauses, raises one eyebrow, and then clears his throat. “In case you haven’t already noticed, you are all single. We did this on purpose. First, it makes being away for weeks at a time easier, but second, this is a reality show. Part of the intrigue is the interaction between the contestants, and I will warn you that cameras will be rolling everywhere except of course in the privacy of your room. I’ll remind you that you’ve all signed release forms to allow anything and everything to air to the general public. We also have rules. Read them carefully and follow them. I would hate for someone to lose the chance at fifty grand because of breaking the rules.”