“Close calls waiting tables?” Rio raises his eyebrows.
“You don’t want to know. Just about everything I do involves an element of danger. Like walking for example.”
He shakes his head. “You’ve hurt yourself walking?”
“I’m just pullin’ your leg.”
He glances down at his leg with a frown. “I’m having trouble translating that one.”
I open my mouth to explain even though I don’t know where that expression came from but he holds his hand up. “No, let me guess. You were messin’ with me,” he says, trying to imitate my accent, and I have to laugh. Rio chuckles. “You’re something else, you know that?”
I’m trying to decide if that is good or bad when he picks up my hand, brings it to his mouth, and kisses it. Now, I guess in Mexico this might be commonplace because it feels like a sexy-guy thing to do, but in Misty Creek having your hand kissed like that is enough to make a redneck like me, well, melt.
Rio frowns. “Abby, are you okay?”
Hell no, I’m melting but I don’t let him know that. He’s made it very clear this past week that we need to stick to our plan. Now that it looks like we will be moving on to the next round I realize that he’s right. We need to stay focused, especially now that we’re in the thick of the competition. “Sure, I’m fine.” I turn my attention to the monitor to watch Daisy Potter the Piggly Wiggly cashier, who is doing the tango with her partner to “Whatever Lola Wants” by Sarah Vaughn.
I don’t know if he realizes he’s still holding my hand but I don’t alert him to the fact since it feels so nice. Having someone care about me feels nice too. I know I have Jesse and Mama, but Rio’s concern and protection seems so different and I know now that it’s something I want in my life.
It feels good. It feels right.
With an effort I squelch my emotions and try to concentrate on the dances, but although I’m looking at the television screen, all I’m really thinking about is my hand tucked in Rio’s.
Daisy Potter and her partner score some solid sevens and seem pleased. I notice that Travis the farmer is smiling as he watches the monitor and I think how cool it would be if they ended up together. How many times has he gone into the Piggly Wiggly and bought groceries and never paid Daisy any mind except to tell her that he wanted plastic over paper and smiled when she said to have a nice day?
I’m contemplating how this show has changed our lives already and have to wonder what kind of surprises the next few weeks will bring. I sneak a peek up at Rio, thinking that I’ll find out soon enough.
17
Workin’ Hard for the Money
Just when I think Rio can’t work me any harder, I have to think again. This week’s dance for us is the rumba (he pronounces it with a long u) and surprise, surprise, I’m having trouble with it. Now that Hank Dooley the construction worker and Brandon Walker the deputy sheriff were eliminated last night we are down to eight couples. Two more will go next Saturday and then two from there on out instead of one like we had first thought.
“No heels, Abby,” Rio says with a sigh. “Roll the hips. Straight legs and plenty of swivel action with your feet are the keys to this dance.”
“Right.” I nod but rolling the hips makes me feel like giggling.
“This isn’t funny, Abby.” He gives me the raised eyebrow so I know I’m in trouble.
“Sorry.”
After giving me a you-better-mean-it look, he says, “This dance tells the story of love and eroticism between a man and a woman. Not in the flirty, cheeky way like the cha-cha, but rather in a sensual, teasing fashion where you are trying to conquer me using your womanly charms.”
My womanly charms . . . right. “ ’Kay.” I nod again like I fully understand what he just said.
“In this dance the emphasis is on the body. The hip action is done by a controlled transfer of weight from one foot to the other,” he explains and then demonstrates.
Mercy. I’m thinking again that this man must be double-jointed in his hips.
“The walks in the dance should be strong. Direct.” He demonstrates for me but I’m still stuck on the hip action. Maybe I should ask him to demonstrate those again.
“Abby, are you paying attention?”
“Of course.” I school my features into fierce concentration.
“The body never stops changing shape in the rumba. Sensuality is the key.” He demonstrates with one of those figure-eight hip rolls that just about has me swallowing my tongue. “It’s not that difficult,” he tries to assure me, totally mistaking my wide-eyed look for fear instead of the lust that I’m fighting with all my might and coming very close to losing the battle with.
Just when I think I might just have to grab him and haul him in for a big ole kiss Rio abruptly turns around and walks away, leaving me with my wide eyes and pounding heart. It doesn’t help matters that he’s dressed in low-slung gray sweatpants that could be at his ankles with the tug of a string or that he’s wearing a white muscle shirt that shows off his physique. No, it doesn’t help a damned bit and I think I just might have to tell him so . . . I mean, if we are going to stick with the resistance plan, then there should surely be some rules, right?
Of course I don’t tell him anything, or grab him for heaven’s sake, but it suddenly hits me how hard it’s going to be to perform this really sexy dance with Rio and not throw myself at him, sort of what I’m wanting to do right now, and we aren’t even dancing yet, just moving our hips.
Rio grabs a bottle of water and chugs half of it while looking at his notes. Not knowing what to do I continue to blink over at him until he says, “You can begin stretching, Abby, while I read over some things here.”
“Okay,” I tell him and flop down onto the floor, spread my legs, and bend forward to stretch. His tone, I’m thinking, was a little short, making me wonder what I did to upset him. I think about this for a moment longer while sneaking a sideways peek. He’s pursing his lips and has a deep frown on his face like something is really bothering him. I wonder if it has anything to do with Angelina. I saw her snag him last night after the live elimination show at the dance hall and engage him in what looked like a heated discussion but I never got to find out what transpired. Not that it’s any of my business.
After I’ve stretched all that I possibly can, I look over at Rio expectantly but he’s still frowning at his clipboard while tapping his cheek with his pencil. “Um, is everything all right?”
Rio raises his head and looks at me a bit blankly like he is still deep in thought. “What did you say?”
God, his accent is cute. “Is everything all right?” I ask slowly.
Rio gives me a look that sets my heart racing and for a minute I think he might say something really important like maybe that he’s falling for me and that he can’t stand another moment without kissing me . . . something earth-shattering like that . . . but then again maybe he’s going to tell me that he just realized that he’s still in love with Angelina. That would suck.
After giving me a long look he finally says, “I was making a few changes to the choreography. At a meeting this morning Mitchell told us that since there are only eight couples left we have another two minutes for each dance.”
“Oh.” I’m both relieved and disappointed at the same time, leaving me feeling a bit befuddled.
“We can go through the first sequence but then I have to make some adjustments. So we’ll cut this morning’s rehearsal short but stay a bit longer after lunch, okay?”
“Sure,” I say and scramble to my feet. Rio seems so businesslike that I wonder if he ever thinks about the night we made love. With determination I shake off that depressing thought and tell myself to concentrate on the task at hand.
“The steps are slow, quick-quick, slow. Come over here and let’s start in the closed position.”
I clasp his hand and place my arm over his bent one and give him a nod that I’m ready.
“We’ll begin with the basic rumba box and then add a walk and box
combo. After that we’ll add an eight-count underarm turn, okay?”
I must look like it’s not okay because he says, “Just follow my lead. When you get used to the feel of the dance we’ll add some music. This isn’t a complicated dance but relies on the emotion. We have to showcase the romance, the interplay between us. This will sound silly but I want you to practice sultry expressions in the mirror back in your room, okay?”
I nod.
“But take it seriously. Don’t just laugh at yourself.”
I snicker. “You know me too well.” I expect him to chuckle but he doesn’t and I don’t know quite what to make of that.
I catch on pretty quickly but then Rio is an excellent teacher. Dancing is becoming more second nature than I ever expected and I wonder how many other things I would enjoy given the chance to do them. Right in the middle of a box combo I vow to myself to start doing new and interesting things instead of the same old stuff. I’m not sure just what that might be but hey, if I can manage to do the rumba with a world-class dancer, then there must be other things I can master as well and I aim to try a few. Never again will I find myself in a rut.
Of course all of this contemplation on my life-altering ideas makes me lose my concentration and I stumble. Rio catches me around the waist and I grab his shoulders for balance. “Sorry,” I say so close to his mouth that our lips brush . . . and I didn’t mean to, I swear.
Rio’s grip on my waist tightens and I’m about to say sorry again when suddenly we’re kissing. I slip my fingers into his hair . . . God, I love his hair . . . and unable to stop myself, I lean against his warm, hard body. While I know that I’m no expert on kissing or anything, I can’t imagine anyone kissing better than Rio Martin. His lips are soft yet firm and his kiss is demanding without being overbearing. His tongue teases, caresses, making me angle my head and slant my mouth across his for more.
And he gives it.
Deep and delicious, warm and tender, this kiss goes on and on, becoming increasingly hot and a little bit wild . . .
Then he pulls away. “Ah, Abby,” he says, leaning his forehead against mine.
“You’re gonna say that we shouldn’t have done that, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I make the rules and then I break them. I’ve always thought of myself as being disciplined but I lose my head where you’re concerned. I’m sorry. It’s just that—”
“Oh, my apologies, am I interrupting?”
Before I turn around I know who that Spanish accent belongs to. Rio stiffens and takes a step back. “Is there something you need, Angelina?”
“After last night you need to ask this particular question?” she purrs and arches an eyebrow. Damn, I wish I could do that . . . not the purr, the eyebrow.
I glance up at Rio, wondering what happened last night.
“We’re rehearsing,” Rio reminds her in an impatient voice. Ha, good for him.
The eyebrow arches higher, now looking stupid. “Right. Ah yes, rehearsing.” She purses her full lips, giving Rio a knowing look while ignoring me. “I know that drill very well, Rio. I guess some things never change.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “You overstep your bounds, Angelina, but then you always did, so yes, I suppose that you are right. Some things never change.” His accent is thick, so I know that she is really upsetting him. “I also know your motives.”
She gives him the pleading doe-eyed look. “Rio, you are so wrong in your assumption. I didn’t even know what you had done with Starlight Dance Studio until I arrived here.” She slices a dramatic hand through the air. “I’ve been abroad, dancing. How was I to know?”
Know what? Is she talking about how Rio came to the rescue of the studio and his daddy after she dumped him with his bum knee? I look at Rio, who folds his hands across his chest and gives her an I-don’t-believe-you-for-a-moment stare. Good for him. I give her the same look even though I don’t know what I’m not believing. I really want to know, though.
Angelina stabs a finger in my direction so hard that her boobies in her low-cut blouse jiggle like unset JellO. I glance at Rio to see if he notices her boobie jiggle and is impressed but he’s frowning and his eyes are narrowed, so I guess not. “Phffft, and you think she is any different?”
“Yes, I do.”
I give Angelina a yeah, he does look but her attention is all on Rio. She says something hard and biting in Spanish and I have the sneaking suspicion that it’s directed at me since she tosses a terse nod in my direction and then flips her massive hair over her shoulder for good measure. I’m wondering what Rio ever saw in this woman other than the obvious big hooters and I guess the dancing part.
“Pienso que usted tuvo va major,” Rios says in a quiet but commanding tone. I make a mental note to tell Jesse to get an English-to-Spanish dictionary at the bookstore for me. I suppose Rio must have told her to leave, because Angelina raises her chin a haughty notch and then pivots on her high heels and sashays out the door. Yeah, sashays. That woman has some serious hip wiggle.
Rio sighs and turns to me. “Perdon, Abby.”
I nod, thinking that he just said that he was sorry. I’m about to tell him that it wasn’t his fault and maybe get up the nerve to ask what that little scene was all about especially the part about Angelina knowing something, but unfortunately, Angelina’s little tirade alerted the camera crew. Suddenly we’re being filmed so, of course, I don’t ask my question.
The cameraman looks disappointed that he might have just missed a scoop for this week’s teaser for the show. I guess my break-dancing, almost-wiping-out move is getting old.
Rio glances down at his watch. “It’s almost time for your lunch break, Abby. Remember to watch the rumba tapes and come down to rehearse after that, okay? I need to add the extra minutes to our performance so we can begin to practice the entire dance this afternoon.”
“Okay,” I tell him but he looks rather upset, making me want to say more except those darned cameras are pointed our way just hoping for something juicy. “I’ll see you at two o’clock, then.”
He nods absently like his mind is elsewhere and I’m not sure if it’s from the Angelina episode or thinking about the dance, but since I can’t ask I simply take my leave and head to the cafeteria. When I get there I’m surprised with a box lunch. Since we’re getting a taste of unseasonably warm springlike weather we’re told that we have the option of getting out of the lodge and enjoying some fresh air instead of eating in the dining room.
Getting out of the lodge sounds heavenly to me, so I pick up my cute little basket, grab a bottle of juice iced down in a big tub, and head outdoors. I inhale a deep breath of fresh, pine-scented air and tilt my face up to the warm sunshine. It has to be pushing seventy degrees, which is warm for early spring. What is it about warm weather that lifts a person’s spirits? Gives you energy and hope? It’s a mystery to me but I just have to smile in the sunshine.
I’m thinking that I want to spend my free time alone to try and sort out the scene with Rio and Angelina but Julia spots me and gives me a wave and a smile.
“Hey there, y’all wanna come join me?” She pats the fat log she’s sitting on.
Now, before, when I still had the chip on my shoulder plaguing me, I would have refused her company in the cutting-off-my-nose-to-spite-my-face way that my mama had warned me about, but today I walk on over to where she’s perched on that big old moss-covered log and join her.
“Nice day, huh?” she asks and I nod in agreement, but she must have sensed a thoughtfulness about me because she says, “Hey, somethin’ wrong?”
I unscrew my orange/pineapple juice and take a cold swig before answering. “I dunno.”
“Tell me about it,” Julia prompts while tugging open a bag of Baked Lay’s.
I hesitate but then say, “You’ll keep this on the down-low, right?” Now that there isn’t any wine influencing me I’m a bit more cautious. I feel like I can trust her now that we’re friends and all, but still . . .
“Of course,
” Julia says and then munches on a potato chip although I hesitate to call anything baked a potato chip. Just doesn’t seem right. “I’m not gonna have to cross my heart and all that, am I?”
“No,” I tell her with a grin. After taking a deep breath I say, “Try as I might I can’t seem to keep my feelings for Rio at bay.”
“Then don’t.” As she unwraps the plastic cover from her sandwich she says, “Take it from me. You don’t want to miss the chance of being with the man you love. Don’t let it pass you by, Abby. You’ll regret it later.”
I mull this over while I unwrap my own sandwich and peek between the slices of wheat bread to make sure it’s edible and I’m relieved to see that it’s turkey, lettuce, and tomato . . . good. I open the packet of mayo with my teeth, something that my mama would not approve of, and as I’m squirting it on my turkey slices I say, “Yeah, but I’m here to try and win this competition for Mama and Jesse. If chasing after Rio jeopardizes that I’ll regret that as well. I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place, ya know?”
Julia swallows a bite of sandwich and then leans toward me. “I’m of the opinion that you can have both. You know, Danny’s football coach used to give them the whole speech about self-control and not having sex before a game but believe me . . . that was a bunch of hogwash.”
“So you don’t think that having a relationship with Rio would mess up my chances of winning?”
She chews thoughtfully for a minute and I’m glad that she’s thinking this whole thing through so as to give me sound advice. “Well, unless of course things go south. Then it could seriously mess with your head.”
“So then, you think I’m better off keeping things businesslike?”
“I might say yes to that except that you’re already past that, Abby. So why not go after the whole enchilada instead of just the refried beans?”
I feel my face heat up.
“Oh, mercy, you’ve already had the whole enchilada?”
Now my face is surely flaming.
“I bet he was just amazing . . . my, my . . . my.” Julia fans her face and I should do the same since it feels ready to burst into flames and start a forest fire.
Dancing Shoes and Honky-Tonk Blues Page 17
