Shall We Dance?

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “You definitely won’t be alone here. Between the three of us and my classes, there’s always something going on.”

  “I’ll be fine. The price is more than fair, too.”

  They’d agreed to a rent of three hundred dollars a month. It included utilities and food . . . but Jennifer also agreed to cook that food four nights a week. Shannon had told her that she and her sisters didn’t care what nights she chose to cook—just to let them know.

  “We’re so excited to experience your cooking, Jen. Things have been pretty slim pickings around here.”

  “Believe me, I’m excited to cook for you. It gives me good practice for the business I’m starting.”

  Glad that all the nuts and bolts were getting organized, Shannon finally brought up the part of Jennifer’s move-in that had been weighing on her mind. “So, how are you going to get your furniture and other things over here?”

  “Dylan and a couple guys from the police department are going to bring them over sometime today.”

  “That’s good.” She tried to smile, though her insides were pinching. She really wasn’t ready to see him anytime soon.

  Some of the confidence that had been shining in Jennifer’s eyes dimmed. “Shannon, I know the two of you were getting close. I feel terrible that my personal problems interfered with that.”

  “This isn’t on you.” She shrugged. “I’m sure you know as well as I do that not every relationship works out.”

  “Maybe it isn’t over yet.”

  She didn’t want to hurt Jennifer’s feelings. Dylan was her brother and they were close. “You’re right. Never say never.”

  Jennifer sat down on the window seat. “For what it’s worth, I think you should know that Dylan had almost as hard a time with my attack as I did.” She paused to take a fortifying breath before continuing. “He not only found me right, um, after, but caught the guys. He also had to testify, not only on the crime scene, but on what they said when they were being interrogated.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  Jennifer turned to face the window. “It was bad, Shannon. Not just my attack, but the things they said. I wasn’t the first woman they’d done this to. Dylan was haunted by it all . . . and scared to death that I wasn’t going to be able to recover and that somehow they were going to get off.”

  “But they did go to prison, right?”

  “Only two out of three of them went. The third was sixteen, and his lawyer made him sound like a choir boy. Almost as much of a victim as I was. He was put in a juvenile rehabilitation center.”

  “And now he’s writing you notes.”

  She turned back to Shannon. “We think so. Some of what he wrote me was so close to what the other guys said during the attack, I can’t imagine that it would be anyone else.” She exhaled. “I’m telling you all of this not to change your mind as much as to give you an idea of how freaked out he would have been when I got lost in the woods. Even though all this time has passed, the memory of it all is still fresh.”

  Shannon’s mouth felt dry. Jennifer hadn’t been wrong. That information did give her a new sense of what Dylan had been feeling when he’d lashed out at her.

  But did that mean that she needed to give him a pass for the things he said? She wasn’t sure.

  “I appreciate you sharing that with me.”

  Jennifer stood up again. “And I appreciate you opening up your home to me. No matter how bad that experience was, I need to keep moving forward. That means that I need to keep getting stronger.” Looking even more assured, she lifted her chin. “Moving out of Dylan’s place is the right thing to do.”

  “We’re really glad you’re here,” Shannon said, crossing the room to give her a quick hug. “Let us know if you need help getting settled, okay? I’ve got to go get ready for a class.”

  * * *

  Looking at her watch, she hurried down the stairs. She had a brand-new client arriving in fifteen minutes. It was another private lesson, this one last-minute. The man had contacted her via email, asking if she could teach him how to swing dance. After she’d given him the standard information about classes and fees, he’d asked for her first available slot.

  Though they’d only exchanged a couple of emails, his notes were polite and formal, and she imagined him to be in his sixties or seventies. Honestly, after all the tension she’d been feeling with Dylan, she was looking forward to an easy class with someone her grandfather’s age.

  She also didn’t want him to be disappointed with his decision to contact her. Luckily, she was already in her dress and two-inch heels. She scurried into her studio, turned on lights in there and in the front entryway, and opened up her new file, now neatly filled with blank contracts and forms.

  As soon as she wrote down Mr. Emerson DiAngelo’s name and the date on the form, she turned on her stereo system and double-checked the swing dances she had marked on her Ballroom Beats program.

  She’d just sat down at her little desk—with five minutes to spare—when the front door opened.

  Shannon stood up, happy to greet her little old gentleman, and came face-to-face with someone completely different.

  She was looking at a young guy in faded jeans and a dark gray T-shirt with some kind of snowboard emblem on it. He had short dark hair, a couple of tattoos on his arms, and the best pair of cheek bones she’d ever seen.

  She stood up. “Hi. May I help you?”

  “I hope so,” he replied in a deep voice that wasn’t displeasing. “I’m looking for Shannon Murphy.”

  “That’s me.”

  He walked toward her with an outstretched hand. “Good to meet you. I’m Emerson DiAngelo.”

  “Good to meet you, too,” she said as his hand covered hers. When he smiled at her, she smiled back.

  But inside? Her stomach was churning. Honestly, how come no one was who she expected them to be?

  CHAPTER 31

  “Yes, I dance in my car.

  Yes, I can see you staring at me.

  No, I don’t care.”

  “I really appreciate you fitting me in,” Emerson said after they’d filled out his paperwork and he’d smiled when he’d shared that he was in “real good” health and didn’t have any physical problems preventing him from learning to swing dance.

  Shannon had blushed like a thirteen-year-old with a first crush—or at least a gal who hadn’t given hours and hours of dancing lessons to relative strangers.

  Now they were standing in the middle of the studio and holding hands while she was attempting to get him to listen to the beat of the music.

  Emerson might have been a gorgeous twenty-seven-year-old man, but a dancer he was not.

  When he stumbled for the fourth or fifth time, he laughed. “Am I helpless?”

  “Of course not. We’ll get this.”

  “I hope so. What am I going to say to my grandma if I can’t dance at her wedding?”

  And . . . that was yet another part of his dreaminess factor. Emerson might look like he was heading out to surf or join a biker club or something, but he was as kind as can be and loved his family. Especially his Grandma Marie, who was about to get married after spending ten years in widowhood.

  Looking up into his eyes, she said, “I promise that you’ll be dancing.”

  “You sound confident.”

  “I am. I’m good at what I do, you know,” she said lightly.

  “Oh, of that I have no doubt,” he replied, looking at her in an appreciative way. “You look like a princess.”

  After encouraging him to lead her around the room in his lurching gait, she grinned. “Emerson, you just made this girl’s day. Not too many people compare a hick like me to royalty.”

  “Hick, huh? Where are you from?”

  “Spartan, West Virginia.”

  Worry filled his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve neve
r heard of it.”

  “I’d be surprised if you had. Yes, that’s it. Now I’m going to show you how to twirl me.”

  Looking doubtful, he watched her, holding her right hand lightly like she showed him.

  “Ready?”

  “Yep. Well, not really, but I’m game.”

  “There you go.” She started counting, as she turned and grabbed hold of his hand again.

  “Shannon—damn.”

  “First time for everything. Come on. Let’s do it again.” She counted slowly and did a respectable turn, twirling enough so that the hem of her dress floated around her knees.

  He smiled slowly. “We did it.”

  “We did. Good job.” Releasing his hands, she said, “And that concludes our first class.”

  “It’s already been an hour?” When she nodded, he said, “Boy, fastest hour of my day.”

  “It was fun.” Walking to her calendar, she said, “What do you think? Did I scare you off, or are you up for another class?”

  “I’m up for another one.” After he paid her and they marked their next session on her calendar, he paused. “Hey, not to be a creeper, but are you seeing anyone?”

  Dylan flashed into her head . . . and so did the way he’d yelled at her. “Not really.”

  “Does ‘not really’ mean that you’d consider going out with me?” While she blinked, he said, ‘Don’t say no. I promise, just dinner. Or lunch, if you’d rather.”

  “Well . . .”

  “I’m taking dance lessons, and I love my grandma. I’m a good guy.” His eyes sparkled.

  She supposed he probably was. Then, there was the fact that he was nice and respectful, had shown up on time, and had even asked about her. He was also handsome. Very handsome. “Okay?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a question? Do I need to give you some references?”

  She shook her head but couldn’t resist teasing him. “Do you really have dating references?”

  “No, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes for you to give me the time of day. Heck, you could even talk to my grandma if that would help.”

  She chuckled. Everything about the last couple of minutes had been flattering. And she was a lot of things but unfortunately not immune to that. “I’d love to go out with you.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded.

  “Great. Okay, give me your phone number and I’ll text you as soon as I look at my schedule. Okay?”

  “Okay.” After she gave him her number, she looked at him more closely. “You didn’t plan on this, did you?”

  “No.” He looked sheepish as he reached for his coat. “Honestly, I thought you would be close to my grandmother’s age. All day I was preparing myself not to get creeped out when I put my hand on your waist.”

  “And here we just held hands.”

  He shrugged on his coat. “I’m thinking maybe I would’ve liked holding your waist just fine, Shannon Murphy. I’ll call you. Promise.”

  She smiled at him as he walked out the door. Then, as soon as she was alone again, she sat down and breathed deep. Whew. She sure hadn’t seen that coming.

  CHAPTER 32

  “No one dances sober, unless he is insane.”

  —Cicero

  Looking skeptical, Jennifer walked backwards ahead of Dylan, Ace, and Kurt on the narrow flight of stairs leading up to the third floor. “I guess this is a pretty tight fit,” she said. “I didn’t even think to measure the size of the dresser before asking you to carry it upstairs.”

  Since his arms were burning, his back was about to send out an SOS signal, and they still had half a flight to go, Dylan didn’t say anything.

  “This ain’t no big deal,” Ace called out. “All in a day’s work, yeah?”

  “Thank you again.” She stopped.

  “Keep walking, Jennifer,” Dylan called out. “We’ve got this.”

  Realizing she was blocking them, Jennifer scurried forward. “Oh. I’ll just go make sure my door is still open.”

  “Thanks, darlin’,” Kurt said.

  As soon as Jennifer trotted off, they climbed another two steps. Ace was leading the way, and Dylan was supporting the bottom half of the dresser next to Kurt Holland.

  “You guys with your Southern charm,” Dylan teased. “The minute you pull out those drawls and ‘darlin’s,’ girls turn to putty.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Kurt asked as they lifted the dresser and pulled it up another few steps.

  “Not a damn thing. I’m just wondering where you learned it.”

  “From the best sweet-talker I know—my pa,” Ace said. “He could sweet-talk my momma into doing just about anything.”

  “Huh.”

  “Oh-oh,” Ace teased. “Are you thinking it’s time you adopted some of that charm for yourself?”

  Maybe. Not that he was going to admit it to his buddies, though. “I’m just surprised, is all. I hadn’t ever had the privilege of seeing it in action.”

  “For what it’s worth, sweet-talking doesn’t do much for Emily,” Kurt said. “She just kind of rolls her eyes and asks me to listen to her.”

  “Noted.” Three steps later, they were on the landing. After they set the dresser down on the wood, Ace stretched his arms. “This place is really is nice up here. Way cooler than I thought. That Shannon knows what she’s doing.”

  “She always did though. Right?” Kurt murmured. Reminding Dylan once again that Shannon might be a new resident, but she wasn’t without a support system. She had her sisters and a trio of guys from Spartan, West Virginia, to lean back on. Whenever they mentioned things like that, he was reminded that they all knew her far better than he did—and had known her for years.

  “What was Shannon like?” Dylan asked.

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. When you all were growing up.”

  “She was younger than us. Jackson knew her better—I didn’t know her real well,” Kurt said. “But she was a star.”

  Ace nodded. “We were all real proud of her. Still are.” There was a slight edge to his voice now. Almost as if he was making sure that Dylan knew Shannon Murphy wasn’t without friends in Bridgeport.

  “Good to know.” Raising his voice, he said, “Jennifer, we got your dresser. You ready?”

  The door flew open. “Yes! Sorry, I was on the phone and the reception was a little shaky.”

  The words were out before he could stop them. “Everything okay?”

  “Hmm? Oh, yes. It was Jack. He’s taking me out for coffee.” Before he could say anything about that, she pointed to an empty wall. “Could you guys put it right here?”

  “No problem,” Kurt said bending down to pick up the beast again.

  After it was exactly where she wanted it, Jennifer thanked them, and Ace and Kurt took off.

  Dylan stayed a moment to look at Jennifer’s room. He couldn’t deny that it was shaping up real nice. “This is pretty, Jen.”

  “I think so, too. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how everything was going to look together, but now I know it’s going to be just fine.”

  “It’s quiet back at home. I already miss you.”

  “I bet you’re missing your hot dinners.”

  “That, too. Maybe one day soon we can go out to lunch or dinner? My treat.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Feeling awkward but not altogether bad, he nodded. “Okay then, it’s a date. Now, I better go check in with Shannon. I’ve got my class in twenty minutes.”

  “Have fun.”

  He rolled his eyes, but in truth he was looking forward to his hour-long lesson. He had a lot of making up to do and, though there was a lot to talk about, he knew that the two of them had some chemistry that couldn’t be denied. Surely that had to count for something.

  * * *
>
  When he walked into the studio ten minutes later, Shannon was already there.

  She was wearing another pretty dress. Her hair was in a complicated-looking kind of ponytail, too. And she had more makeup on than usual. He thought she was just as beautiful in leggings and a T-shirt with her face freshly washed.

  But he couldn’t deny that she looked flat-out gorgeous right now. He suddenly wished he had put on something other than faded Levi’s and a worn flannel shirt.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She was texting on her phone. She looked up at him in surprise. “Hey.” Setting her phone down, she stood up and walked over. “Did you get Jennifer all settled?”

  “I think so. That dresser of hers weighed a ton.”

  She laughed. “I bet it gained two pounds with every step, too.”

  “That about covers it. I’m glad Ace and Kurt were here.”

  “They were? Are they still around?”

  “No. They took off.” Why was he disappointed that she looked disappointed? “They said something about getting home to their wives.”

  “Ah.” She glanced at the ornate clock that now graced the wall. “I bet they’re ready to go out for supper.”

  “There’s poker tonight, so I think they were probably going to make do with a quick bite.” He smiled.

  She looked at him wide-eyed. “What about you?”

  “Well, we have our class, right?”

  “Yes. But if you want to reschedule, we could.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Well, we only have two more to go, right?”

  She sounded relieved by that. Which, he supposed, gave him a good taste of his own medicine. Boy, he’d been a real jerk at their first meeting. He knew better, too. “Right.”

  She walked over to the iPad. “Let’s get started then.” When an old song from the sixties came on, she faced him. “Shall we dance?”

  “Absolutely.” He placed his hand on her waist and folded her palm in his left.

  “Now, one-two, three, one-two, three. Yes?”