Despite my effort to remain awake, the soothing music coupled with my fatigue has me dozing. But that’s okay because when my head almost slips onto his lap, Rio wraps his arm around me and, while I know it’s for safety’s sake, it sure feels nice. Just when I’m feeling comfy and secure, the limo swerves sharply to the left, making me squish against Rio. My hand shoots out for support and comes into contact with the deep V of his Elvis outfit where his jacket is unbuttoned.
“What happened?” I ask in a sleepy voice even though I’m now wide-awake.
“We almost hit a deer,” Rio explains.
“Oh.” I scoot up like I’m interested and remove my hand like I didn’t know it was poised on his bare chest.
“This is insane,” Rio growls.
“Oh, this isn’t unusual. There’s deer up here everywhere and raccoons and . . .”
“I wasn’t talking about the animals, Abby,” he says in the same low growl that, by the way, is very sexy.
“Oh.” I’m really wishing I had left my hand on his chest but I can’t exactly put it back there for no apparent reason. While I’m trying to think of one, Rio leans over and kisses me.
Maybe it’s from the surprise or maybe it’s what I wanted to do but I suddenly find myself falling onto my back with my arms curled around Rio while kissing him right like it’s my job. The hot kiss is deep and a bit wild, I’m guessing from pent-up desire . . . at least on my part anyway.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he says, pausing to nibble on my neck. Rio is an excellent neck nibbler . . . makes you tingle and shiver.
“It’s a limo. . . . It was inevitable,” I try to joke but it ends with a gasp when he sucks my earlobe into his mouth. I sink my fingers into his hair because I just love his hair and then we’re kissing again.
“I can’t keep my hands or my mouth off you,” Rio says, pulling back to run a gentle fingertip down my cheek. I love it when he does that.
“Me too,” I admit, swallowing hard. “Rio, why are we fighting this?”
He closes his eyes for a moment and then says, “Because I know how much the prize money means to your family. I’m your instructor and I should help you to win, not be the reason why you do not. I know from experience how important it is to stay focused. I could not forgive myself if I ruined your chances of winning.”
“So you’re doing this for me?”
Rio nods. “Of course. Winning this would be fun and I’m a fierce competitor, but in the long run it means nothing to me. Is that what you thought, Abby? That all I wanted was to win?”
I shrug. “I didn’t know how much money, you know, a bonus or whatever that you got for coming in first.”
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Couldn’t you use the money for your studio in Mexico City?”
“That’s not an issue,” he tells me with a tender smile.
“But why? I mean surely—” I begin again but have to hold that thought when the limo stops.
“We’d better sit up,” Rio warns, “because there are bound to be cameras. We’ll finish this discussion tonight in the privacy of my room, okay?”
I nod and he’s right because a moment later when the door swings open letting in bright sunshine, cameras from several news stations are there to film our every move. While this makes me feel important and everything I also realize how hard it must be for celebrities to deal with this all the time. It’s enough to make a person nervous.
With his arm protectively around me Rio smiles, so I do the same thing.
“How do you feel about being the favorite?” a tall blond reporter asks while thrusting a microphone in Rio’s face.
“Like we need to rehearse,” Rio responds, widening his smile a bit.
“Think you can beat Danny Becker and the new threat, Angelina Perez?” she persists. “And weren’t you and Angelina once partners?”
Rio’s smile remains but he picks up the pace. “Yes to both questions,” he tosses over his shoulder, and more questions are shouted at us but sometimes long legs come in quite handy.
We enter the dance hall a bit breathless. “Wow, I didn’t know how popular this show is becoming,” I comment.
“I have to admit that I’m surprised. I just bet that it will be a bit crazy as we approach the finals.”
“Mama told me yesterday that business is great at the diner and the whole town is booming.”
“That’s good, Abby.” His warm smile tells me that he really does care.
“So, are you happy that you’re a part of this now? I mean, do you think this has helped or harmed your ballroom dance reputation?”
“I was wrong. Although unconventional, this has turned into a real competition and you should be proud of Misty Creek. I don’t think that even Mitchell Banks anticipated this reaction.”
“Oh, don’t be so sure,” says a cultured voice that has us turning around. Walking in the opposite door is Mitchell with my mama on his arm!
“Abby!” Mama shouts and rushes over to me. We hug like I’ve been away for years.
“I’ve missed you, Babycakes.”
“I’ve missed you and Jesse too! And your cooking . . . mercy, I miss your meat loaf and mashed potatoes.” We hug and sniff back tears so as not to make our mascara run. “How’d you get in here?” I ask in a stage whisper. “We were told that no one was allowed in except for us.”
“Connections,” she says with a pretty blush and a glance up at Mitchell. I swear he gives her an adoring look right back. I peer closely at Mama and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her this relaxed and . . . glowing. Ohmigod, they aren’t . . . she isn’t . . . holy cow; okay, I refuse to even go there. But still, it’s so nice to see her happy. Not that she wasn’t before but oh my, how wonderful it would be for her to find someone to share her life with. Mitchell Banks sure isn’t whom I ever would have pictured her with but I’m finding that love happens when you least expect it. I remember Mama and Daddy being happy but she deserves another chance at love.
“Mama, are you missin’ the lunch crowd?”
She grins behind her hand. “I’m playin’ hooky. Mitchell insisted and we’ve hired two extra waitresses so he said that they could do without me for a couple of hours.”
Well, I’ll be . . . I never thought I’d see Mama leave the diner during regular hours.
“Abilene, are you tryin’ to catch flies, child?” Mama asks with a girlish giggle.
I realize that my mouth is gaping open and snap it shut. “Well, I have to admit that I thought pigs would fly the day I saw you leave the diner in the middle of the day.”
Mama giggles again. “I know, I know!”
I glance over at Rio, who has a perplexed expression on his face. “You’re thinking about pigs flying, aren’t you?”
He grins while nodding. “I have that expression figured out, I think.”
Mama gives me a look that seems to be asking if there is something between Rio and me and I feel heat creep into my cheeks that I’m sure answers her question.
Mitchell clears his throat and says, “Well, Sadie, we had better get going. I’m sure they want you both in makeup for the photo shoot. I think Jackie just arrived.”
I give Mama one last lingering hug and she says, “Good luck, Abby.”
“Thanks, Mama. I’ll do my very best.”
“You always do.”
“Good luck, Rio,” Mama says quietly but then gives him a measuring look that says you hurt my baby and there will be hell to pay, but to his credit Rio remains unruffled.
“Thank you, Mrs. Harper,” he says and adds a warm smile. “I am quite impressed with your daughter.”
“As well you should be,” she says, inclining her head. “But thank you just the same.”
Just then Jackie comes rushing into the hall with Maggie in tow, lugging a big case of what I’m guessing is cosmetics. “Rio and Abby, hurry! We need to do hair and makeup,” Jackie says as we’re ushered over to two tall bar stools. “Maggie, t
ake their coats.”
“Okay,” Maggie says a little irritably as she heaves the huge case down onto a table with a clunk that echoes in the hall.
“I’ll do Rio and you do Abby,” Jackie says.
“I want to do Rio,” Maggie says defiantly.
I want to do Rio, too, I think and disguise my giggle with a cough. He glances my way and of course I blush.
“Ladies,” Rio interjects smoothly, “I think you are hurting Abby’s feelings.”
All eyes turn to me, and my blush must have been interpreted as hurt feelings. Maggie glares at Jackie like it’s all her fault and starts combing out my hair. It’s all a moot point anyway because Rio is done in no time and both girls end up working on me. Finally, I’m handed a mirror.
“Wow . . . wow!” I blink at myself—at least I think it’s my reflection—and I swallow hard. If I didn’t know better I would have thought that the person in the mirror was somebody else. They’ve weaved extensions through my hair, making me have a blond tumble of curls piled high and then spilling down my back. My lips are tingling from some deep pink lip gloss that magically makes my mouth seem full and pouting and my eyes seem to have an exotic tilt to them and appear bluer than normal.
“Hot,” Jackie says with a satisfied nod.
“Sexy,” Maggie agrees and then turns to Rio and asks, “What do you think?”
My heart is pounding as I wait for his answer.
“I think she is going to steam up the camera lens,” he says with a grin.
I would think that he’s teasing except for the heat in his eyes, and for the first time in my life I feel confident and desirable . . . and I like it. Feeling sexy is fun. And I pretty much decide right then and there to quit squelching my feelings for Rio. Tonight in his room I’m going to let him know exactly how I feel about him and to quit pretending.
The photo shoot ends up being a blast. We do about a million poses, both campy and serious. Finally Rio says, “I’m sorry but we really must rehearse.”
“One more,” the cameraman insists. “I want this one to be a prelude to a kiss.”
Rio nods. “Okay, one more.”
“Abby, put your hand on his chest, right there in the center. That’s right. Rio, place your hand low on her back and, Abby, lean back just a bit. Now, Abby, raise your left leg. That’s right, now bend it up to graze his leg. Rio, now lean in very close and put your mouth almost but not quite on Abby’s. Awesome, now hold that pose.”
This is hard . . . not kissing him, I mean. I can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath where my palm rests on his warm skin and I’m gratified to know that he must be feeling the same way. Oh, and with his mouth a hairbreadth away from mine, nearly touching, I can feel the heat, the cool tickle of his breathing on my cheek.
“Okay, perfect,” I hear the cameraman say in a far-away voice because I’m caught up in the moment and I really want this to end with a doggone kiss. But just when I think I’m going to get my wish, Rio pulls back, leaving me standing there breathless and wanting.
I’m hoping to sneak a little smooch in during practice but there are cameras and people milling around everywhere, so that is a no-go as well and, given the sensual nature of the rumba, I’m feeling quite revved up and nowhere to go by the end of the rehearsal.
Instead of heading back up the mountain we change into street clothes and then opt to eat dinner in town since we have to be back at the dance hall for the run-through that night before the live show on Saturday.
“How about eating at Mama’s diner?” I ask Rio as we stroll through town.
“Definitely.” He nods and gives me one of his smiles that make my heart beat faster. He doesn’t smile often but when he does his face just lights up. Of course he has each and every female young and old turning to get a second look, making me want to slip my arm through his in a territorial way even though I have no real claim to him. Not that I can blame them. In his faded jeans, a black turtleneck, and aviator sunglasses, Rio deserves a second glance. His dark hair, untamed by a ponytail, is blowing in the cool breeze and he has his leather jacket flung over his shoulder in a nonchalant way and yet he oozes charisma.
We’re stopped for pictures and autographs and I can tell you that I will never get over this as long as I live. I know that my fifteen minutes of fame will be over when the show ends, so I have fun with it but this is still so surreal, especially when I enter the diner to sit down and eat like a customer.
“Abby!” Of course Mama rushes over and there is hugging galore from her, the waitresses, and others who feel compelled to come over and hug me. Pete pokes his head out of the kitchen and gives me a wave but thank goodness he’s too busy to come over for a hug. Jesse is in school so I miss getting to see him but Mama assures me that he will be at the show tomorrow.
We’re ushered over to a booth and I feel really weird having Mama waiting on us. “What’ll you have, Babycakes?” she asks me.
“Meat loaf, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, and corn bread.” My mouth waters at the thought.
“Oh, we’re out of meat loaf,” Mama says.
“What? Say it ain’t so!”
Rio chuckles. “I think she’s . . . how do you say? . . . pulling your leg.”
I look at Mama, and her mouth is twitching in an effort not to smile. “Mama, don’t toy with me like that.”
Rio laughs. “Good one, Mrs. Harper.” He sticks out his fists for a knuckle bump. “Abby has been dying for your meat loaf. She can’t stop talking about it. Please bring me the same.”
“You won’t be sorry,” Mama says and winks at him. “Secret recipe.” I’ve never seen Mama wink at anyone but I carefully keep my jaw from dropping. “I’ll bring you two Cherry Cokes. The real thing, mind you, not from a bottle.” She tucks her stubby pencil behind her ear and hurries off on her soft-soled shoes.
“Your mother is a very vibrant woman.”
With a nod I say, “She’s a hard worker and it’s so nice to see a little kick in her step. She’s always had energy to spare, bless her heart, but it’s wonderful to see her so happy, you know?” I swallow sudden emotion. “It’s not like her to wink or flirt. She’s always had to be pretty much all business . . . pleasant and everything but not lighthearted. It makes me realize how much living she’s given up for Jesse and me.”
Rio reaches across the table and clasps my hand. “I wouldn’t refer to it as given up, Abby. Don’t feel guilt for something she has freely given.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Life is unpredictable and rarely works out the way we think it will.” He shrugs. “And perhaps that would be rather boring, no?” He says this seriously but has a hint of mischief in the depths of his brown eyes. “In fact,” he begins but is interrupted by the arrival of our Cherry Cokes and meat loaf.
“Here you go,” Mama says and sets our glasses and plates down with a flourish. “Enjoy.”
“Oh, it looks wonderful! Mama, can you spare a few minutes to sit with us?”
“No, sorry. We’re backed up. But hey, don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining! The competition has been a boon to this town. Good luck to you both. I can’t wait to see you dancin’ in your fancy outfits!”
I give Rio a look and he almost chokes on his Coke. Luckily I hadn’t taken off my coat this morning, so Mama has no idea of the skimpiness of my costume. “Why, thank you, Mama.”
When she is out of listening distance Rio says, “Think she’s gonna have a . . . what was that you said?”
“A cow, and yes. A big one.”
Angling his head, Rio says, “Then again, maybe not.”
“You could be right. Mama has certainly loosened up.”
I watch Rio take a bite of the meat loaf and for some reason it’s important to me that he likes it . . . stupid really, but it somehow matters.
“Delicious,” he says. “Onion, green pepper, a hint of garlic, and something else I can’t place. What would that be?”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
He laughs at that old one-liner and God help me, I’m falling harder and harder for him. “I won’t tell, I promise,” he says.
I point my fork at him. “Oh no, don’t go crossing your heart and hopin’ to die.”
He gives me a confused look while buttering a slice of corn bread.
“Never mind. Just a joke I shared with Julia.”
After a drink of his Cherry Coke, he says, “Interesting that you two have become friends.”
I swallow a heavenly bite of fluffy mashed potatoes and say, “I guess it’s all part of the unpredictability of life that you were talking about, but yes, I agree.”
“This really is delicious,” Rio says as he polishes off his meat loaf.
I flush with pride but I can’t help it. “Yes, it’s a shame that little diners like this are becoming more and more rare. Now it’s all big chain restaurants and they’re good and all, but there is just something about a greasy spoon that Americans will always love.”
“Greasy spoon?”
I grin. “That’s what we call little hole-in-the-wall diners like this one. Comfort food for the soul,” I say with another bite. “The food at the lodge is good but this is where I come from.” I wave my hand in an arc and realize how much I love this place. “So, is your mama a good cook?”
Rio hesitates. “I suppose.”
“You suppose?”
“We have a cook so she doesn’t prepare meals much.”
“Oh.” This surprises me but since two giggling girls wanting pictures and autographs interrupt us I can’t ask how they could have afforded a cook.
The two girls seem to have been a cue for just about everyone else to approach us but we’re more than happy to oblige. After all, these are potential voters. But after a few minutes Rio announces that we have to go back to the dance hall for dress rehearsal and the fans moan but understand. I hunt Mama down for a quick hug and we’re out the door. Rio calls the limo driver and in no time we’re back to Bluegrass Dance Hall.
Dancing Shoes and Honky-Tonk Blues Page 19
