Danced Close Page 2

  I needed her to tell me so that together we could solve the problem. It was what I was good at—helping my friends work through both major and minor crises. I knew I could get her back in a better mood.

  “Okay.” Freya stirred her coffee over-vigorously. “Here’s the deal. I can’t do the dance classes with you.”

  “What do you mean? Classes start in two weeks.” Freya and I had planned for months to take West Coast Swing dance classes together in prep for a forties-themed charity dinner dance that I had no choice but to attend.

  The charity event for the homeless shelter was sponsored in part by my mother’s law firm, for which both Freya and my ex-boyfriend worked, Freya as an admin assistant, Lewis as junior associate. I had to make an appearance, and I’d been planning to show off some new dancing skills. Well, more accurately, I’d been wanting to not fall on my face or end up standing there alone, both of which seemed likely now. I’d had this vision of showing Lewis exactly what he was missing and not getting back, but that wasn’t happening if I had to languish like some Victorian spinster without a dance partner.

  “Kayla—you know, my sister in Tacoma—her husband’s still deployed, and she just got put on bed rest with her pregnancy. I’m cashing in all my leave at work, and taking three weeks to go be with her until her husband gets back. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  “That makes sense.” I sighed. No way could I compete with a little sister in need. “Give my best to Kayla. You need anything for the drive?”

  “I’m good.” Freya gave me a tentative smile. “You’re really not mad?”

  “Of course not.” I waved such a notion aside with a flick of my wrist. “But, what am I supposed to do now?”

  “You already paid for a couples registration, right? Call around—I’m sure one of our friends will dance with you. Or you never know. Maybe you’ll meet someone.” Her eyes slid to the counter area where Todd was unloading a tray of cream puffs into the glass case.

  “No,” I said firmly. “I’ll make some calls.” But even as I said it, my brain went, Maybe? And my heart sped up, just a bit, which was a reminder that any sort of thing for Todd would be an epically bad idea. The memory of Lewis still lingered, more bitter than black coffee, and I needed to be smart if I wanted to avoid that kind of hurt again.

  CHAPTER 2

  Todd

  I knew soon as I got into work on Saturday I wasn’t going to like what Vic had to say. See, he has this look he gets when he’s behind schedule or things aren’t going his way—reminds me of an angry gator down in Florida, where I grew up. And lately, ever since taking part-ownership, he’s had that look more times than not.

  “Hey, Todd, I need you to do the Ramos-Vienne delivery on your own,” Vic said. “I’m behind on the Mitchell-Abrams wedding cake and the Bellmont christening.”

  Vic was the kind of control freak who needs to do the weddings all personal. I wasn’t sure how I felt about being trusted to do one on my own. But, he’s the boss-man, so I just nodded.

  “Need me to pack the morning-after breakfast basket for them?” That was something Vic loved doing—a little gift for the couple. Figured I might as well make myself useful while I stewed about everything that could go wrong on the delivery.

  “That would help. Then we’ll get the cake loaded up.” Vic handed me a box, and I started filling it with muffins and pastries. I hadn’t always been so good about keeping a job. Vic, he’d done me a real solid, taking me on, but I was always on edge about being let go. Wouldn’t be easy for a guy like me to find a new gig.

  “Kendall will be there if you have trouble. He’ll help you get the cake table situated,” Vic said as he returned to the cake he was working on, a pretty teal layer cake with intricate drop lines.

  Ah. There it was. The real reason my hackles had been raised all morning. I wasn’t one to circle days on the calendar, but in the back of my head, yeah, I’d known I was seeing Kendall again. Kendall, now, he was pretty like the cake—all colorful elegance. And he unsettled me, because I always felt like I was two words away from falling in shit with him. Like last week, when he’d come in with his friend, I’d thought I’d try it on a bit, but my flirting game is crap, and he’d left looking all kinds of pissed. Couldn’t tell if it was me or the friend, but I’d thought about that exchange far more than I should’ve.

  And I thought about him again as I drove to the hotel. I’d known I was gay since forever, but Kendall wasn’t my usual type. At all. However, something about him had intrigued me since our first encounter. He did it for me in a way no one had in a couple of years even. The way I’d figured it, he’d had to have noticed my scoping him out. Repeatedly. But then, maybe he was used to all kinds of eyeballs on him.

  I parked the truck in the hotel’s delivery bay and made my way to the banquet room, where chaos greeted me. Unlike most weddings we did, the room wasn’t set up yet. Instead, workers scurried around, rearranging chairs and slapping down tablecloths.

  “Todd! Thank god you’re here.” Kendall strode across the room, cutting through the chaos like some video-game chieftain on a rampage. I liked how he always dressed just so for weddings—sophisticated in perfectly tailored suits but with little details like a ruffled top or lace pocket square or dangly earrings that showed utter confidence in his tastes. That kind of confidence was more intoxicating than a fifth of Jack, and made things I’d figured for dead stir inside me.

  Today he was wearing a suit that was somewhere between cream, rose, and brown, a silky-looking top with ruffled collar, and a gold band that held his curly hair back. The prettiness of his outfit contrasted with the sureness of his strides and the firm handshake he had for me. The whole package did something for me, made my pulse hum.

  “There was a disastrous miscommunication with the hotel.” Kendall managed to sound both supremely irritated and in control at the same time. This wasn’t a person prone to hysterics, and I liked that about him. “They’re fixing things, but it’s going to be a minute before the cake table’s ready. Do you mind waiting?”

  I did, a bit, because it would push back my other tasks, but I knew what Vic would do. If Kendall needed us to be the ones responsible for getting the cake arranged, then that’s how it would go down. “Not a problem.”

  “Thank you.” The wide smile that Kendall shot me made all sorts of hassles worth it. He had eyes the color of brown sugar, and when he smiled, they sparkled like warm caramel. “How about you and the cake wait there?” He pointed to a little corner out of the way of all the foot traffic.

  “Sure thing.” I wheeled the cake over there and took out my phone to kill time. I had a new message from Gran.

  You home in time for dinner tonight? Chicken pot pie. I’ll keep some warm for you if you’re doing a meeting after work.

  My stomach gave a little grumble, reminding me of all the hours since breakfast. Gran’s pot pie sounded amazing, but I supposed I knew what she was really after—wanted to make sure I wasn’t skipping my meetings.

  Behind on work, I texted back. Save me a slice or two. And yes, ma’am, I’m doing the regular Saturday meeting at the center. Don’t you wait up on me.

  I couldn’t really fault her for worrying. I’d had a cold a few weeks back, skipped a couple of meetings and had myself a funk until I got back to my routine. And for all she babied me, I coddled her right back, making sure she got her rest. Woman was busier than a congressman, what with all her causes. Didn’t need her burning herself out on my account too.

  Across the room, the DJ was setting up, testing the sound system. A jazzy little big-band number came over the sound system. I recognized it instantly as one we’d used back when I was . . . oh, I must have been ten. Maybe eleven. But all of a sudden I was back there, pre–dance competition jitters coursing through me. And unlike some memories, this particular song held no bitterness for me. Damn, I’d been good at ballroom that year.

  Step. Turn. I wasn’t quite dancing, but I was swaying in place, remembering the routi
ne, powerless to resist the music wrapping around me.

  “Zo-mi-god! You can dance, can’t you?” Kendall’s voice startled me, and I stopped mid-movement, which made me lose my balance—only for a second, but a second was all it took to jostle the cart with the cake.

  “Shit,” I cursed, moving fast to keep the cake steady. Kendall reached out too, but we were both too late to stop two flowers fluttering loose and the icing on the bottom tier smudging. I stepped back to survey the damage. “Vic’s gonna kill me dead. And then fire my carcass.”

  “No one’s getting fired.” Kendall’s voice was firm. That was one of the things I liked about him—his voice was a sure and steady tenor, the voice of a person who could get things done. “Not you, not me. Did Vic send his repair kit?”

  I nodded. I’d never been the one to do said repairs, but there was spare icing and some tools on the bottom shelf of my cart. I’d watched Vic do a repair or two, but I was the delivery boy, not a baker. And unlike those other fixes, this mishap was squarely on me. “So fuckin’ clumsy,” I muttered.

  “I don’t know, you looked pretty graceful to me,” Kendall said with a laugh. “This one’s my fault for startling you. The cake table’s ready now. What do you say we get the cake on the table, then see what magic we need to work?”

  Magic. Yeah, right. I’d stopped believing in magic so long ago my brain forgot what it felt like, and I didn’t have nearly Kendall’s faith in my ability to fix things. Lord knew, I’d dropped enough balls in my life. But still I followed Kendall to the table, and worked with him to carefully—so carefully now—transfer the cake to the center of the table. Kendall turned the cake this way and that until the smudged part faced the back.

  “Now we just need to affix the flowers.” Kendall’s air of I’ve got this worked to calm the galloping horses in my chest.

  I took a deep breath, visualized what Vic would do. I worked best with steps to follow, so I thought it out for several seconds before picking up one of the flowers. Felt like I was performing surgery, and my hands shook, but I got the flowers back in place. Almost perfect. I knew it wasn’t exactly like Vic had it, but maybe others wouldn’t notice. Didn’t matter. I still felt like crap, messing up Vic’s work.

  “And the smudge.” If I was the nervous surgeon, Kendall was my bossy scrub nurse, keeping us on track. This part was trickier and needed a deft hand.

  “Maybe you should do it,” I muttered.

  “You’ve got this. I think Vic’s gearing up to train you on decorating next.”

  “Only reason he’s got me working front of the shop is ’cause Danielle’s out on baby leave.” That and he felt sorry for me, but I left that part out. No doubt Robin had leaned on him hard to get me extra hours. Robin wasn’t just Vic’s husband—he was my friend too. But that only got me so far—wasn’t no one training me for the fancy stuff.

  Same as I had for the flowers, I visualized the smudge being repaired, thought about how I needed it to look, then went in with the extra icing.

  “Perfect,” Kendall pronounced. It wasn’t, not really, but it was nice of him to say so.

  “If they complain—”

  “They won’t. And if they do, I’ll tell people it was my fault.”

  “You’d do that for me?” Didn’t seem to me that he had any reason to get my back, not when he had a rep on the line too.

  “Sure. And really, the fix worked, Todd. You did great.”

  I nodded, not sure what to do with that praise. “Here.” I took out the breakfast stuff from the shelf on the cart. “This is for their breakfast tomorrow. Gift from the bakery.”

  “I love how you guys always do that.” Kendall took the box. “Here, let me walk you out.”

  “I can find my way back. Sure you’ve got plenty to do.”

  A frown flittered across Kendall’s face. He seemed to draw himself up taller, shoulders raising. “It’s no problem, and I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Oh heck. Here it came, a lecture about not staring at him. Or maybe I hadn’t worded the question about his pronouns the best. I followed him back toward the service hallway, heart thumping double time.

  “I really didn’t mean to startle you earlier,” he said once we were alone in the hallway.

  “’S okay.”

  “Can you dance though? You looked like you could.”

  I paused. Licked my lips. Wasn’t sure how to answer. “Lifetime ago, yeah,” I said finally.

  “Lifetime?” Kendall laughed. “You’re what, twenty?”

  “Twenty-two.” Barely.

  “Okay, but seriously, how many lifetimes could you have lived?”

  He had no clue. None. Not that I was going to enlighten him. “I started with tap and jazz dancing when I was a bitty thing. Then later I did junior ballroom competitions—”

  “Oh my god. You are perfect.” Kendall’s face broke into as wide a smile as I’d seen on him before.

  “It’s no big deal. Haven’t really danced in years.”

  “That’s okay. Do you know West Coast Swing?” Kendall wasn’t letting this drop.

  “Nope. East Coast, but just a little. I competed more in classical ballroom, foxtrot and that sort of thing.”

  “Here’s the deal.” Kendall glanced down at the gold watch on his wrist. Undoubtedly, he had more important things to do than talk dance with the delivery boy. “My friend and I were signed up for LGBTQ-friendly West Coast Swing classes that start next week, but she had to cancel. Would you be interested in taking the class with me?”

  Well, that was unexpected. Could I dance again after all this time? Did I even want to? I’d put myself a million miles and eight years away from that life, that person who had lived for dance. “Why do you want to learn?” I asked, hedging.

  “There’s a fund-raiser for the shelter on Burnside—the one Vic’s bakery supports with so many donations. You probably know the one.”

  Saved my damn life. But I just nodded, keeping my muscles loose like I wasn’t there for meetings twice a week.

  “Anyway, it’s my mother’s law firm’s pet charity this year, and they’re having a big forties-themed dinner and dance. You wouldn’t have to commit to the fund-raiser yet, but it’s a great cause.”

  Any other cause and I probably would have told him to keep on dancing out the door. But the shelter was special.

  “And you really need someone to dance with?” I looked him up and down. God, he was gorgeous, and it wouldn’t really be too much hardship to imagine him in my arms. But a person like him wasn’t for me. “Seems to me you could take your pick.”

  Kendall laughed. “You’re sweet. But this is short notice, and a lot of my friends are already attending the fund-raiser. With their significant others.” He sighed heavily, and lord, didn’t I know that feeling of it seeming like the whole world was coupled up.

  I shuffled my feet, thinking. I didn’t really leap into much of anything, especially not these days. I wasn’t a fast thinker like Kendall.

  “Listen, can I give you my card? I really have to get back to the prep, but I’d love it if you’d think about it.” He held out an embossed card with a wedding cake and champagne flutes on it. And his number. Now I had Kendall Rose’s number. There was a part of me that gave a little leap at this, but I knew better than to let that sort of hope dance around.

  “I’ll text you later,” I said. “Either way. I might have to check my schedule at work—”

  “That’s fine.” Kendall smiled. He knew how close he had me to a yes. “Text me any questions. And I’ll be up late tonight. It always takes me forever to wind down from a wedding.”

  I knew plenty about sleeplessness, but Kendall’s words were . . . intimate. Like a little something that I now knew about him that maybe the world didn’t.

  “I will.” Smiles, they don’t come as easy to me as they do someone like Kendall, who showers the world with his sunshine, but I tried for one then. “I’ll think about it.” Think about you, is what
I really meant.

  * * *

  “You’re back early,” Gran said when I came in. “Let me get your dinner in the microwave for you.”

  “I can do it.” I grabbed the neatly wrapped package from the fridge.

  “No one going out to coffee these days?”

  “Nah.” I shrugged. Coffee wasn’t really my thing. I’d gone with some of the guys after a meeting a couple of times, but it wasn’t my jam. “Mostly, it’s people going out to smoke, and since I quit, easier to just come on home. You havin’ a pot pie waiting, that pretty much made my choice.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek on my way to the microwave.

  “I am glad that you quit that nasty habit.” She shuddered, which was kinda funny since we both knew nicotine was far from the worst bad habit I’d had to kick. “You’re so much healthier now. Your color’s good, and your weight is up again.”

  Well, now, healthier was highly debatable, and I cringed a little at the weight comment. My inner chubby thirteen-year-old wasn’t ever gonna get okay with my weight. And while I wasn’t that heavy, I was having a hard time getting exercise in, what with my increased hours at the bakery and all, which made me feel out of shape. The microwave dinged, and I took the plate out and sat down at the table. Gran grabbed her tea and joined me.

  “I just wish you had some friends your age. Outside of meetings, I mean.”

  “I like meetings.”

  “I know you do.” She patted my hand. “And they’re good and important for you. But you’re too young to be coming home to an old lady—”

  “You’re not old, Gran.” And I came home to her because of all the years I should have and hadn’t. But I wasn’t good at articulating stuff like that, so what I said was, “I’ll see about getting some friends. Promise.”

  Uninvited, an image of Kendall crept into my head. ’Course, most of what I wanted to do with him was more than strictly friendly, but dancing would get me out, put Gran’s mind at ease.

  Later, stretched out on my bed, I texted Kendall about which day and time the classes were on.