Despite going into it with open eyes, Chrissy and I had enjoyed our big day all those years ago. It was going to be a strange kind of bittersweet, watching our daughter walk down the aisle, too.
Then my heart clamped. Especially with an asshole like him. At least Chrissy’s a wonderful woman.
“Oh, things will get better,” Beth insisted and finished her water, then waved down the waiter for the bill as I swallowed my trepidation.
My daughter was a formidable force, but sometimes she was very twenty-something. Young, full of fire and optimism, and not jaded. That could be good. This time, though? I doubted it. Jason had really done a number on her.
And here I am, I thought with no small degree of sheepishness, about to date someone her age. Who’s probably just as young and dumb.
Rusty seemed smart, funny, talented, kind—everything I was looking for. But he also hadn’t had the extra years I’d had to mellow and simmer and reflect on what he really wanted.
I was firmly convinced that forever was a different unit of time when you were twenty-something than over forty.
And I knew how long forever felt even when I had the best reason in the world sitting in front of me.
Beth didn’t. But neither did Rusty. I couldn’t say she was wrong and I knew better, and then in the same breath say it was fine for me to date Rusty. Right?
Beth saw me to my car with a little more teasing about where I was off to. As I headed for the dance studio, a guilty pang settled into my soul about who I was going to see.
Is it so wrong to think that Rusty and I are different?
God. What the hell was I supposed to do?
Chapter Eight
Body wash doesn’t belong there.
Rusty, day 3
“I want to learn to slut-drop.”
I choked on my water bottle and coughed. Tom helpfully slapped me on the back, which only made the water travel further the wrong way into my lungs until my chest burned.
It took me a minute to catch my breath. A minute filled with visions of Tom spreading his knees, raising his hands, and bouncing all the way down to his heels and back up.
Fuck. In any context—naked or clothed—I’d love to see that.
Finally, I managed to look at my student-slash-love-interest in the mirror. He was grinning as I leaned on the ballet barre at the front of the room.
“You what now?” I asked.
“I asked one of the young ladies at work what the best moves to attract a man are. She told me about something called the bend and snap, which didn’t make much sense—”
Good thing I’d put down my water bottle, because I sucked in a quick breath as I tried not to giggle.
“—and slut drops. I think she was making fun of me, but in a nice way. But I want to learn.” Tom sounded genuinely eager, like he’d discovered a new secret.
Never in a million years had I expected that word to come from his mouth. It made me itch with heat and desire. If only I could get him to say it in other contexts.
“Well,” I said after a moment and grinned. “Who better to teach you than a great slut,” I paused for a moment, winking, and finished, “dropper? We’d better work on your flexibility and strength first. The last thing you want to do is tear a groin muscle.”
Tom made a strangled sound of horror. “Oh, God. That would ruin my day.”
“And mine.” I hadn’t meant for it to be innuendo—I’d meant as a teacher—but we both had the same thought at the same time. And we were both grinning breathlessly. Not just because we were at the end of another good lesson, either.
“Okay, the guy at the desk is going to come kick us out in a few minutes,” I said. “But I’ll keep that in mind. Word of warning—it’ll take more than a few days to practice.”
I picked up my water bottle and towel, disconnected my phone from the music system, and flicked off the lights with a trembling hand once Tom had stepped out of the studio. Then I scooped up my bag and dumped my crap in it, shouldering it.
The whole time, I was trying not to stare at Tom and judge his reaction. My statement was less of a heads-up and more of a fishing expedition.
Do you want to see me after the wedding? I wondered.
“That’s fine,” Tom said in his reassuring, low rumble. “I’m patient.”
You do! I rejoiced. Excitement sparkled through my body in shimmering waves of glee. Suddenly my step had an extra bounce, and my smile stretched a little wider.
“Yay!” My mouth chimed in before my brain could stop it, so I went along with it. I flung an arm around Tom’s shoulders. “We have so much to learn, you and me.”
Tom’s smile was reserved, but he nodded and held the door for me. When we passed through and stepped out onto the street, he took my hand.
My brain only had room for one thought at a time, and right now it was, Holding! Hands!
Oh, wow. With my brain occupied, my mouth was still running on. “How about we go home for coffee? To your place, I mean. I only have instant coffee. You’ve got me hooked now.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Tom laughed softly. “Okay. If you’re okay tag-teaming?”
I snickered and he blinked at me like an innocent owl. “Never mind.” I stroked my smile away from my face and cleared my throat. “Yeah, I can follow as long as you don’t run any red lights.”
“I’m a very safe driver,” Tom promised. He looked adorably serious nodding at me.
Cuter than a button, I swooned as I clutched my tote bag for dear life, trying not to melt all over the sidewalk. “Okay,” I giggled. Thank goodness I wasn’t trying to drive with him in the car. I didn’t trust myself not to get all lightheaded like I was right now.
Once I swung into my car seat and dumped my tote on the passenger seat, I took a moment to compose myself.
Here we were, going home together. Was today the day I got into his pants? Or at least, into his lap for more of those sweet kisses? I wanted him to hold me and cuddle me close. We could watch a movie together. Or cook together. Or…
Oh, boy. I fanned myself and turned on the car, cranking up the air-conditioning.
When I glanced over, Tom was already pulling out of his spot. I quickly threw the car into reverse to follow.
True to his word, Tom drove slowly and carefully. Following him to his suburb was easy as pie. It left me plenty of time to daydream about everything I wanted to teach him… on the dance floor and off.
I parked against the curb below Tom’s house and grabbed my tote bag again. After a long afternoon teaching dance classes, both of us would welcome the change of clothes in it.
It wasn’t quite dark yet outside—that perfect evening hour in summer when the light started to fade, hinting that the hour was later than it seemed. This was the best part of the day. It felt like stolen, extra time and it only lasted until the close of summer.
“This is such a cute house,” I told Tom as I followed him into his little bungalow. I left my shoes by the door, to be polite, and padded after him to the kitchen.
“Why, thank you.” He stopped me by the kitchen bar and leaned in to kiss me softly. “And thanks for coming home with me.”
Another little thrill coursed through me at the reminder that we were alone together, in his house. “My pleasure,” I whispered. I hope so, anyway. I grinned at him. “But while you put the coffee on… could I use your shower?”