“He’s pretty good, huh?” I ask Josie without taking my eyes off Hank.
“Freakishly good,” she says. “Has he always been a good dancer?”
I grab her arm, snort with laughter, pull her close, and say, “Don’t tell anyone. Hank took dance lessons.”
“Seriously? When?”
“Last half of middle school, beginning of high school. Our parents’ grand idea. We were in the same class together: Gigi, me, Hank, and their younger sister Joanna. I took a blood oath to never tell.” We laugh and continue our observation of Hank.
“It’s definitely paid off for him. Guy’s got moves.”
We stand in the crowd, watching the people on the dance floor. It’s typical to see mostly women dancing together though tonight some of the good old boys are out there making it happen, Hank being one of them. Of course, he’s making it happen with Melinda Bane, which has me grinding my teeth.
Why I agreed to come to this stupid event is beyond me. Between the guilt laid on by Gigi and Sarah Grace, I was in poor shape when my own mother started in on me.
The Swan Ball is held every summer. It’s a fund-raiser to help local kids with new school clothes, school supplies, and even establishes scholarships. Any extra money goes toward a Christmas festival for the same group of kids. Under normal circumstances I like it because it’s held outside, is for a good cause, and promises a good time. I don’t like it right now because I have to watch Hank and Melinda.
Earlier, I counted seven booze tents and as I watch Hank spin Melinda around the floor, I decide I need to need to partake in some of the free wine.
I admit I’m jealous. Not jealous because Melinda gets tons of attention, like in high school, or because she seems so unflawed. Honestly, who can two-step in those heels? I bet she’s stepping all over his feet. I’m jealous because I don’t like seeing Hank with another girl. Any girl. Certainly not one who’s as schooled in the arts of man wooing as Melinda.
This is a whole new emotion for me.
“Come on. Let’s move before he sees us,” I say and head toward the wine booths.
The song ends, and Hank calls my name. Josie looks at me but I pretend I’m too distracted to hear him and order a white wine at the nearest booth. I’m sipping it, giving her dirt about the local vendors I know from high school, and hopefully, emitting an air of indifference when he approaches.
“Hey.” He’s out of breath from whooping it up on the dance floor. “Josie, right? How are you?” His smile is warm as he gives her his attention.
“That’s me. It’s nice to meet you sober,” she says, and they both give a quick laugh. She cuts her eyes to me. “You know, I’m gonna go use the restroom.” She backs away from us, not giving me a chance to stop her.
“When did you get here?”
I swear, if he smiles at me, I will lose my mind.
“A while ago.” I set my teeth, unable to even fake a smile.
“You OK?” He orders a glass of white wine.
I narrow my eyes. In a crowd like this, Hank’s a beer guy.
“You getting one for Melinda?” My words come out biting.
He looks at me, puzzled, “Yeah, is something wrong?”
“Oh, no. Nothing.” My sarcasm isn’t lost on Hank. He’s known me too long. I take a sip of wine and raise my eyebrows.
“What’s with the attitude?” he asks.
I don’t want to fight, but my blood is boiling and refraining is no longer an option.
“Really? Melinda Bane? Seriously?” I walk off in a huff. I get about two steps when he grabs my elbow and steers me to a space between two tents, trying to avoid a scene.
“I’m not sure what you’re implying. I didn’t bring her. Not that it’s any business of yours.”
“We’ve been sleeping together. Don’t you think I should know if you have a date?”
He snorts and gives me a scathing look. “It’s nothing you haven’t done to me.”
OK, he’s got me there.
“I don’t flaunt my dates in front of you,” I say.
“I’m not on a date.” He throws his hand up in disgust. “What do you want from me?”
His question gives me pause. What do I want? My thoughts wander to places I never imagined they would go nor could I have imagined the small ache in my heart accompanying those thoughts.
“You’re right. I lost sight of our deal. We don’t have a relationship. We’re clear we both don’t want one.” I can’t stop the accusatory tone that carries my words.
“I never said I didn’t want a relationship; I said my job makes it a hard. You’re the one who wants to ‘try a few guys on for size.’”
He throws my words at me and they hit like a slap on the face. I suck in my breath and toss my wine in the trash can.
“You said you weren’t interested in Melinda,” I say.
“It was one dance. You’re overreacting.”
Maybe. Maybe I am. I know there are suppose to be no strings with our deal, but if he’s going to go on dates, why does it have to be with Melinda? He knows I hate her. He knows she’s always been a cow to me.
“You know what, Hank, this”—I point to him and then myself—“is a great idea. Things aren’t awkward between us at all. Nothing’s changed, either.” I lean in. “Brilliant, isn’t that the word you used? Yeah, brilliant.” I walk off. This time he doesn’t catch up with me. This time I’m on my own.
I find Josie near the art tents. I snatch her glass of wine and down it.
“Are you OK?” There are a thousand other things she could say to me and be right about all of them.
“Yeah, come on, I’ll introduce you to my sister.” I steer Josie toward the tents of various vendors. One of which is my sister’s and Dan’s, both peddling their respective companies. She and Gigi appear to be in an animated conversation.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I start with a hug to Gigi before moving to my sister.
“Paisley, I’m glad you came.” Sarah Grace leans over the table, and we kiss each other’s cheeks.
“Sarah Grace, this is my friend Josie, who is getting married in two weeks.” Gigi and Josie already know each other.
“Ohh, Paisley sent me a picture of her bridesmaid dress. I love the color. Beautiful.” Sarah Grace can be very easy to get to know.
“Thanks. I’m getting a lot of flak from my mom about not having the men in tuxes. She thinks the navy suits are understated.”
“Well, I think it’s beautiful,” Sarah Grace says. “Very elegant. How are you holding up? Not getting nervous or anything? Not like Paisley who spent the whole night before throwing up and crying.”
I groan. “I had food poisoning.”
“Mm-hmm, so you keep saying. Remember how Nana said she’d give you ten thousand dollars and buy you a plane ticket to Scotland if you didn’t go through with it?”
Josie’s mouth drops open.
Gigi laughs. “Remember she told me to go get the car and bring it around?”
“I bet you all think I was stupid for not taking it and running,” I say.
“At the time yes, because he seemed too perfect to me. Almost one-dimensional. Now I’m glad you married Trevor.” Sarah Grace continues when I gave her a glare. “I wish he would have been the man you needed and I certainly didn’t enjoy watching you go through your divorce, but I see something in you now I haven’t seen for a long time. Something good and if going through everything with Trevor is what’s making it come back out, then I guess it was worth it in the end. Because now you can really find true happiness.”
“I agree,” says Gigi. “I hope now you’re more intolerant of BS. You sure put up with a lot.”
I’m caught off guard and about to ask more, when a tall, middle-aged man steps up to the booth and smiles at Sarah Grace. This is clearly his first Swan Ball because he’s dressed in a three-piece suit with a monogrammed handkerchief and cuff links to boot. Doesn’t he know clogging and square dancing may break out at any moment? Or most of the men here think being dressed up is having their jeans starched? Lakeland should call their Swan Ball the Swan Shindig. Or Swan Hoedown. Certainly not ball. I mean, there are two boiled-peanut booths here for Pete’s sake.
“Excuse me? Are you the interior designer who decorated the Townsend property?” His voice is nasally, with a nondescript drawl.
“Yes, I am.” Sarah Grace smiles.
“You did a magnificent job. I’m the architect in charge of renovation and revitalizing the downtown area and I would like to speak with you at length regarding the possibility of us doing some work together.” He reaches into his breast pocket, pulls out a business card, and passes it to Sarah Grace.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Gigi asks.
“No. Oregon.” He gives her a curious look.
“We can tell. It’s the suit,” I say.
“I was told it was a business-dress affair.” A flash of irritation crosses his face.
We nod. Someone is pranking the new guy.
“Honey,” Gigi says, “blue jeans are the business attire for these guys.”
He nods as he absorbs the information.
Sarah Grace hands him her business card. “Thank you for thinking of me. I’ll talk to my business partner and see if it’s something we might be interested in.”
“Please do. Call my office for an appointment if you find you’re interested.”
He nods to us all. Lord, he must be hot as a fire poker in that suit. A small bead of sweat rolls down his temple and he pulls out his hankie and dabs at it.
“If you’ll excuse me. Have a nice day.”
We watch him leave. He’s a good hundred yards away before anyone says anything.
“Poor bastard,” Josie says and we all laugh. Sarah Grace snort-laughs.
“What’s so funny?” Hank wanders over.
“How long have you been there?” Gigi swats at her brother.
“Long enough. I came over to see if anyone wants to get out on the dance floor and two-step with me.” He dares one of us to be a taker.
“Not me. That’s just too weird,” says Gigi.
“Paisley?” he asks, extending the metaphoric olive branch.
“Actually, Josie would love to do it.” I’m extorting reparation for a long list of injustices, the most recent being BOB.
“I don’t even know how to two-step. Paisley was gonna teach me.” With a tentative hand, Josie reaches out and takes Hank’s, and she gives me a shrug.
“Well then, let me be the first to show you how it’s done. You’re gonna be a pro when I get done with you. I’ll teach you the right way, not some half-assed McAllister way.” He whisks her off and heads to the floor.
“Hey,” Sarah Grace calls out to him, “I’m deeply wounded by your words and utter lies.”
Gigi huffs. “Lies you say? We all know Lancasters have moves and McAllisters have two left feet.”
“Hang on,” I say, “just who do you think taught you Lancasters any of those moves?”
“Ms. Lisa at Lakeland Dance Studio, that’s who,” says Gigi.
It’s on now. The friendly competition between our two families, spanning decades, is rearing up once again.
“There’s lots of trash-talking going on here,” John says as he and Dan walk up. He puts his beer on the table and grabs Gigi’s hand, pulling her toward him. “We heard you all way over by the beer booth. I say, no more posturing, we go out there and show ’em.”
“Wanna put your money where your mouth is?” Dan reaches for Sarah Grace, pulls her over the booth’s table, and rushes her toward the dance floor, trying to beat Gigi and John.
“I’ll just stay here and watch the booth,” I say. “Don’t mind me.”
My phone chimes, and I pull it out, looking at the face. One missed call from Jake and now a text message.
Why haven’t I heard from you? Lets get together. Soon.
Like the other messages and calls since he pushed me to the floor, I ignore it and wish for the umpteenth time this phone had a block-caller option. My day with Jake is coming. I just have to work up to it.
Gigi said she hoped I was more intolerant of BS. I think I may be. I sure hope I am. I look out at the dance floor. My family and friends are out there laughing with each other, having a good time. I turn my phone off and tuck it into my back pocket.
Right here, right now, this is darn near perfect, fight with Hank notwithstanding. All I need is a dance partner.
Mr. Suit-and-Sweaty walks by and I call out, “Hey, architect guy.”
He wipes his brow with his hankie as he chugs a beer. He looks at me and points to himself.
“Yeah, you. Do you know how to two-step?” I don’t even know why I’m asking him, except this guy has got to be miserable and hot, yet is still trying to make a good impression and network. Plus, it never hurts to be friendly, Southern hospitality and all that.
“Preston and no, I’m afraid I don’t.” He walks toward me and I move to meet him.
“Well, Preston, you know how to follow directions?”
He nods and takes a long swig of a beer.
“Good, take off your jacket and tie and hand them over.”
He does as I ask, and I toss them behind the table at Sarah Grace’s booth. “Roll your sleeves up. The designer you were chatting up is my sister, who is on the dance floor. You being out there dancing will go a long way with her and these people.”
He rolls up his sleeves and gives me a smile. “Lead the way....”
“Paisley. This is a great way to get in with the good-old-boy network running rampant in this town. That and buying a large truck and jacking it up on some Super Swampers.”
“Super Swampers?” He steps onto the floor and lets me take the lead. He’s a quick study.
“Tires. Relax your arms.” I pull him around the floor and point out people he’ll likely work with. Many are guys I went to school with who’ve taken over for their fathers. We do two laps before he takes over and begins to lead me.
“Hey, I just took this novice here and taught him to two-step with only two turns around the floor,” I say to Gigi and John.
“Prove it.” She grabs Preston’s hands, leaving me to dance with John.
“Let’s see some of that McAllister Magic,” John says. We dance off.
One song blends into another and the competition continues. Who can outdo whom? I dance with more people than I can count and laugh nonstop. It’s during the fifth song that I find myself in Hank’s arms.
My face freezes, and I tense. I don’t want to fight with him. I don’t want things to be awkward between us and there’s no question I don’t want him dancing with Melinda anymore either.
He twirls me around once and I step on his toes twice before I smile at him.
“You feel better now?” he says when I grind my foot against his.
“Actually, I do.” I relax against him and follow his lead.
“About Melinda,” he says.
I groan. “Please don’t ruin the moment.”
“You totally blew it out of proportion.” He moves me into a pivot step.
“Kind of like you did when you came to my apartment.”
“The difference is Melinda isn’t at my house. It was one dance, and before I danced with her, I danced with Michelle Jones.”
“Oh.” He’s kind of got me there. I did overreact. He’s staring at me with a raised brow.
“What? You want an apology or something?” I ask.
“That would be a good start.” He waits.
“Hmm, not going to happen.” Time to change the subject. “How many turns around the floor did it take Josie to pick it up?” I watch Josie take a misstep with Dan.
“About three. Maybe four. Why?”
“I taught the suit over there how in two and now look at him.” I nod toward Preston, who is twirling Sarah Grace around. “That’s right, sucker. McAllister Magic strikes again. I’m the Ginger Rogers of Central Florida.” I beam up at him.
Hank laughs and draws me in closer.
“I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time. It’s nice,” he says.
“Don’t get a big head. I like to dance.”
“How about that apology now?” He’s tenacious at best.
“How about you give me one.” I turn the tables on him.
“For what?”
“Exactly. Why should I give you an apology?” I duck under his arm as he turns me through the steps.
“Just once it would be nice to hear you say you’re sorry.” He slides his hand down, resting it in the hollow of my back.
“Never.” I step closer.
“We’ll see.”
We smile at each other and my heart leaps.
Uh-oh.