Faithful

by S. A. Wolfe

  Carson looks nonchalantly at Cooper and his attire then back at Rafe. “Probably not.”

  “It’s fine, Rafe. I’m used to them like this,” Lauren adds, bubbly as a bride should be.

  “Fine. Men, gather your lovely partners, and we’ll take our marks.”

  Rafe has the four couples hold each other at arm’s length. The women are then instructed to keep their elbows raised and their left hand touching their partner’s shoulder without gripping or clenching, he emphasizes. He puts on Strauss to start with some easy waltzes.

  I feel surprisingly at ease once we start dancing. I thought it would be awkward and I’d stumble or lose the rhythm, yet Cooper leads perfectly. Maybe I’m imagining it, but our dancing feels superb. I wonder if we look as fabulous as I think we do.

  Cooper looks down at me with a mirthful smile, as if he knows I’m shocked and pleased that we’re doing so well. I don’t notice the other couples, but I do hear the click of camera phones going off from the peanut gallery.

  “I better not see any of those photos online,” Carson says loudly to the observers as he dances by with Jess stumbling in his arms.

  “Don’t worry,” Archie says, peering through his phone, “I’m going to make it a virus.”

  We all turn our heads at Archie and the dancing lurches to a stop, sending Rafe into a fit.

  “He meant viral,” Eleanor clarifies for everyone.

  “No videos!” Dylan joins in with Carson.

  “Stop! Stop! Everyone, stop where you are!” Rafe yells.

  “For the love of hot potatoes,” Lois says loudly, shaking her head. “You’re all in trouble now.” She waggles a finger at all of us.

  “Can we all concentrate on the dancing? Gentlemen, you have some issues here,” Rafe says sternly. “Carson, I don’t know what you’re doing to Jessica over there, but it’s not a waltz. You’re swinging her around like she’s a rag doll, and you’re crushing her hand and stepping on her feet. You’re not a circus elephant, learning how to dance.”

  There’s an outburst of laughter with my snorts being the loudest.

  Rafe walks over to Carson and taps him between his shoulder blades. “I want you to pull back, stand straighter, and be more relaxed at the same time. If you maintain good posture, you’ll feel the difference.”

  Carson grunts an acknowledgment while Jess looks relieved that her husband is getting some professional instruction.

  “Dylan?” Rafe barks as he walks over to Dylan and Emma. “What you’re doing is not dancing. It’s public molestation.”

  I’m laughing so hard Cooper starts laughing again, Lois and Eleanor are whooping it up in the background, and even Emma is hiding a grin. It doesn’t throw off Rafe’s diatribe, though.

  “Seriously, Dylan, with the way you’re mauling Emma, I feel like I should beat you off her with a chair. This is a beautiful waltz. The dancers are supposed to glide across the room. Stop trying to tango or whatever you’re doing there. You make this look like a shake-down scene from a Scorsese movie.”

  Dylan looks apologetically at Emma. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Goodfellas!” Lauren shouts out one her favorite mob films.

  “Okay, Lauren, you’re next,” Rafe says pointedly at her. Her smile disappears as she shrinks back. “You have got to stop leading and pay attention to Leo. You’re making him lose his footing because you’re taking his marks. You may be in charge of the wedding, but the man is leading the dance. Got it?”

  After Lauren nods, Leo kisses her cheek for getting a scolding.

  “And you two,” Rafe says, pointing a finger at Cooper and me. “Perfect. You know how to dance,” he addresses Cooper.

  All eyes are on Cooper who looks a little surprised to be the center of attention; therefore, I take the opportunity to take a sweeping curtsy, which garners some laughs from the parents and seniors.

  “I’ve been in a few wedding parties,” Cooper says modestly. “And a lot of dance classes. Big family, you know?”

  “The rest of you need to follow their example,” Rafe says to the others.

  As we continue with the lesson, I become rather delirious with all of Cooper’s elegant twirling and gliding against the backdrop of the classical music. I thought I’d feel like a clod, but Cooper makes it easy and fun, and I’m heady as I hold onto him. It’s a good thing he’s leading because I spend more time looking at his face than watching the floor or the dancers in front of us.

  “Damn,” I say, “I didn’t know you could dance.”

  “Hell, if I had known this is all it takes to impress you, I would have mentioned it a lot sooner.”

  “You already impressed me when you carried my drunk dead ass up all those stairs to my bedroom. I have no recollection of it, but it was a very noble feat.”

  “It would have been a crime if I hadn’t carried you,” he says as he sweeps me effortlessly around a studio column. “So, does this mean you’re ready for more? Dinner? A movie? A trip to Target? Anything?”

  “Good point, Lauren and Leo do like to stock up on those 36-roll packages of toilet paper, but that would be very difficult to carry on your bike.”

  He scoffs. “You’re so fucking afraid it amazes me.”

  “I’m very busy this week.”

  Cooper’s expression softens. I could be dancing backwards off a cliff, and I would never know because I’m completely enamored by him. How he holds me firmly yet gently and manages to guide me into the steps and turns while locking me into a seductive gaze has me practically swooning. In the background, I hear Rafe’s voice, Dylan’s muttered expletives, Lois’s running commentary on the dancers, and Jess’s hilarious chanting, ‘One-Two-Three,’ to keep Carson in step. Those sounds begin to fade away until all I hear are the violins and the rest of the orchestra playing the lulling romantic melody, and all I see is Cooper looking down upon me as if we’re the only people in the room. I must have one of those telltale expressions because Cooper smiles as though he caught me daydreaming about us. He did. I’m seeing hoopskirts and men in tuxedos, getting all mushy over the whole corny set-up.

  “We’re good partners,” he says, breaking my reverie.

  “That’s because we can count and move our feet at the same time,” I reply as we catch Carson and Dylan colliding into each other’s backs.

  In time to the music, Rafe waves his arms like an orchestra conductor and yells in a sing-songy voice, “There are only four couples dancing, no one should be running into anyone else, people! This cannot happen at the reception.”

  I laugh at the others because I’m clinging to a guy who is a natural-born dancer. In fact, I’m almost clenching and gripping him. Thankfully, the mandatory space between our bodies keeps this very PG-13.

  “Too bad we’re so good. It makes the others look worse,” I say, clicking my tongue.

  “Don’t feel too bad for them, at least they get to go to bed together after this,” he responds, throwing me into a rather forceful turn during a dramatic moment in the music.

  My heads whips left and then right as I lose control, Cooper’s hands tightening instantly to keep me steady. When the music comes to a slow part and I gain my footing, Cooper gives me a wicked grin.

  “You’re kind of at my mercy, baby,” he says, smugly.

  “You did that on purpose, and don’t call me baby.”

  “Just showing you that it takes two to make this work. Those guys are lousy dancers, but they have a few things I envy.”

  “You’ve made it very clear that dancing isn’t going to be enough for you, so we’ll have our date, and I’ll let you watch me eat an expensive dinner. I’ll even ask for extra bread and butter if that turns you on. We can go out Friday.”

  “Finally, out in public when it’s not mandated by Lauren’s wedding plans. Exactly how will you explain this to all those inquiring minds?” he asks sardonically.

  “Oh, people will assume I’m simply breaking
you in so you can keep up with me at the wedding.”

  “Excellent. You should break me in. I’d enjoy that.”

  “Kcuf,” I mutter. “I made that one too easy for you.”

  “You did, but I’m glad we’re going out. I thought you’d have cold feet after the hike. Speaking of which, how are those blisters on your feet?”

  “Thanks for asking. They’re killing me. This dancing business is making them bleed. These shoes will have to be pried off my feet, but I think I’m putting on a pretty good show. What do you think?”

  “Great show. I had no idea you’re in pain, especially since you’re making those eyes at me again.”

  “I’m making eyes at you? Forget it. I don’t want to hear it.” I turn to watch Dylan screw up again as he aggressively draws Emma against him.

  “Got it. Nothing about sex. How’s work, and what do you think of Carson’s business plan?”

  I turn back to meet his silvery-gray eyes as he regards me with a pleased expression.

  “Carson’s business plan?” I ask in confusion. “I haven’t heard it. Lauren and I are meeting with Archie and Carson tomorrow to talk about a loan and expanding the business to hire a couple of people. What do you know?”

  “Oh, nothing,” he says, turning his head and looking down at our clasped hands. “Carson mentioned he was planning on meeting with you two but didn’t give me any of the specifics.”

  “Well, it should be interesting and terrifying. It’s kind of our do or die moment, so Lauren and I have to suck it up and do it, whatever it is.”

  “You’re going to be fine, Imogene.” He tilts his head to the side, looking very boyish, despite his unshaven face. That sexy, scruffy jaw makes me think dirty thoughts about him again—naked and hard and in every position imaginable. I definitely can’t erase those explicit images.

  “Okay, I give. Go back to that comment you made about my eyes. What about them?” I ask, annoyed and trying to put the brakes on my fantasies that are growing more sordid by the minute. “I don’t make eyes at you, unless you mean the daggers I keep shooting your way.”

  “Nope, I was talking about the other eyes you make. You can’t hide those from me.”

  “Oh, brother.” I roll my head skyward. “Here we go again. Mr. Mind Reader.”

  “It’s okay. I’m thinking the same thing as you.”

  “And what’s that?”

  He leans down to my ear. “That we really want to fuck each other every which way until we’re crawling out of bed for water and food,” he whispers.

  Only an unprepared woman asks a question she already knows the answer to. I should have been prepared for the response I was expecting. I wasn’t. As my knees shake and buckle, Cooper violates the waltzing code by pulling me in close to his body until I’m righted again.

  “I got it,” I say, stepping back into position. “This is why we should not date. No one should end up deprived of water and food. Really, such drama.”

  “You’re right. We should skip the dating part and do those things you keep thinking about. Your eyes have crazy-ass lust in them whenever you look at me, Imogene.”

  I’m gaping, desperate to come up with a quick retort, but my crazy-ass, lust-filled eyes prevent any coherent strategic thinking.

  I’m kcuffed.

  Fourteen

  Carson puts his laptop on Archie’s desk and swivels it so Lauren and I can both see the loan schedule he set up. My eyes widen at the number of zeros involved; however, Carson and Archie are very sure about the plan they have constructed. Carson insists we use his storage building behind his factory as our new studio, and Archie has a part-time bookkeeper lined up for us. All we need to do is hire two more people experienced in beading to work full-time with us.

  “Don’t let the loan scare you,” Carson says, recognizing my uneasiness. “Think of it as an investment because there isn’t any interest or payment due for three years.”

  “You won’t get this kind of offer at a bank,” Archie reminds me.

  “I know, but can you really afford to put up this kind of money right now, Carson? You’re expanding your businesses, and it’s like you’ll be carrying us for three years,” I say.

  Carson scratches the stubble on his jaw, tired of reassuring me, probably. “I can afford it. Besides, Archie is putting in half, and the building costs me nothing since I own it. The utilities there are cheap, and your monthly sales can easily cover those and more.

  “I feel good about the projections you worked out with Archie. We’re running everything on the low-end here, Imogene. You don’t have an expensive storefront with high overhead. Even if we have a damaging storm or blizzard, we’ve taken extraordinary circumstances and holiday seasons into account, and the spreadsheet reflects that. I’m no expert on jewelry, but I know the retail business pretty well, so I’m confident about this.”

  “I think this is a solid plan,” Lauren chimes in.

  “I think so, too,” Archie says. “All you need to do is hire the two women Lauren mentioned.”

  It’s impossible not to trust Archibald Bixby. He’s our wise Yoda, the kind that wears a three-piece suit all year round. He’s also very wealthy yet seems to bank everything since he’s never married or had children; consequently, he wants to help us—we are his family.

  “You like Anita and Tracy?” I ask Lauren, finding as many ways to stall this process as possible. I suppose my indecision must be indicative of how little I have believed in myself for too long.

  “I do,” she replies. “They are both very experienced with jewelry. Tracy has very good taste and an eye for this, and Anita is very crafty and meticulous. The beadwork she showed me was amazing.”

  “Okay, so what’s our timeframe, Carson?” I ask.

  “I’ll have the guys start clearing the furniture out of the shack tomorrow. All we need to do is replace the toilet and sink, give it an industrial cleaning, and a new inside paint job. It can be ready by the end of next week or earlier, depending on how much spare time the guys have.”

  “It’s a lot of money and quite a bit of work. You really have that much faith in us?”

  “I have complete faith in you. The real question is do you?”

  Two days later, I’m still questioning our decision, although I’m also excited. It’s something to look forward to, even if we’ve needed Carson, Archie, and our parents to push us in this direction. Lauren and I have spent so many years tied at the hip—growing up together all through high school and college and even working at my family’s restaurant. The last thing I want is to end up being Lauren’s sidekick at the diner, two seniors in our orthopedic shoes, serving burgers and fries to tourists and high school kids.

  I was too busy having fun to come up with a life plan. High school and college may have taught me a few things, but they didn’t prepare me for any kind of career.

  After seeing how far Carson has come with his business, despite the hardships he’s endured—the death of his adoptive parents, dealing with Dylan’s mental health issues, and still managing to become a successful businessman—I need it to rub off on me.

  I realize I had a fairly idyllic upbringing, and it’s time for me to buckle down and do the real work, taking the scary risks I am unaccustomed to. I’ll let any snarky thing fly out of my mouth, and I come across as confident and cocky at times. However, the truth is I must suffer from some kind of fear that has prevented me from grasping at anything bigger or at least recognizing my intentional sabotage of anything resembling something good.

  Cooper is on time, of course. It’s the date he has been waiting for, the one I have dreaded because of my mixed emotions regarding him. My interest is growing in all the wrong ways, and the timing is horrendous because of my responsibilities to the business venture.

  He insists on picking me up in Leo’s truck, and I agreed as long as I foot the bill. I can’t keep letting this guy spoil me in a way that triggers my own reservations about
servitude and debt.

  I’ve had a few long-term boyfriends—handsome jocks, a few smart business types, some who were astute and funny, some not so much. Yet I always went for the popular, good-looking guy who was envied by men, coveted by women, and screwed by me. This is why I’m hesitant about Cooper. He is a combination of every boy and man I’ve dated, except you’d have to multiply it by a thousand. He’s off the Richter scale for me, and it’s both exhilarating and frightening.

  Lauren doesn’t say a word as I leave the house and walk out to the driveway when I hear the truck come rumbling up to the porch. You’d think I’m being escorted to my own execution by the way my arms and legs tremble and a wave of dizziness strikes me when Cooper jumps out of the cab of the truck and smiles at me. Goddamn his good genes.

  “Hey, lovey,” he says, walking towards me.

  “Really hate that one.”

  “Okay, I’m still working on it. You’re like a fine wine—”

  “Drop it. I’ve heard it all before. You’re not the only pro, remember? I’ve been a player for years, too.”

  “You make us sound like hustlers.”

  His eyes roam appreciatively over me, taking in my halter dress that shows off my legs and cleavage. I’ve worn my hair up since it’s so muggy outside. He’s dressed in jeans, but I forgive him since they are not threadbare. He also has on a white dress shirt with the collar open and the sleeves slightly rolled and black dress shoes which I’ve never seen on him.

  “Well, think about it. What exactly are we doing with each other? You’re trying to get me into bed, and I’m pretending to take a stand for all women who have played that card one too many times.”

  Cooper laughs and holds my elbow as I climb into the truck. “My cynic. Can’t wait to see what you say at dinner. This should be several hours of enlightenment.”

  “You laugh, but—”

  As he cuts me off with a kiss, the potent desire hits me at once; his hand on my cheek, the brush of his stubble against my skin, and his lips that I haven’t touched in eleven days, since the hike. Sure, he gave me a peck at the dance class, but I’ve been thinking about his lips and everything else attached to him for eleven frigging days because obsessed people start counting and replaying their own delusional video montages in their head when they get too attached. And that’s exactly what’s happening here. I’m stuck in Cooperville.