Fair Play (43 page)

Chapter Six

River

I’m asking her out. Skittish or not, I have to try. I can’t ignore that she’s been invading every thought I’ve had since I laid eyes on her yesterday.

I’m dragging ass this morning. Between my asshole brother making an appearance with his new girlfriend last night and thinking about Angel, sleep was simply not happening.

I know nothing about Angel other than she’s gorgeous, able to handle herself, and a dancer. I intend to change all of that today, right after I go and kick my brother’s ass.

I promised Maria I wouldn’t kill him at dinner last night, but I never said anything about today. I couldn’t even speak to him. He was acting like such a fool, parading his trophy girlfriend around Noah’s house like he was a single man with no family.

Coming from a large family, being a good husband and father is of the utmost importance to me. I don’t buy that crap about Misty leaving with the kids. She’s always been pathetically accepting of David’s looser lifestyle and lack of drive. I never understood why she was so devoted to him. It wasn’t as if she depended on him financially. She is a damn good real estate agent, and she has been supporting the family for the past few years. David lost his job managing a restaurant, and he’s been sitting on his lazy ass doing a whole lot of nothing for way too long.

When I pull up to their traditional two-story house, I notice right away that the yard is in desperate need of mowing, flowers have been left to wilt in the heat, and a section of gutter is dangling over the attached garage, threatening to fall off.

What the hell has been going on over here? I haven’t visited in a few months, but it looks like no one lives here anymore. I open the door and unfold my long legs from my car and walk to the front door. Before I can even ring the bell, an elderly neighbor is yoo- hooing and motioning for me to come over to her porch.

I don’t have time for this, but I’m a sucker for senior citizens, so I oblige. I cross the grass that joins the two yards in five long strides to her wrap-around porch.

“Good morning,” I say.

“Good morning,” the frail woman who looks to be in her eighties says, peering around me. She points at David and Misty’s house.

“Nobody’s living there. They all left about a month ago.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, are you family?” she asks.

“I’m David’s brother. I was looking for my sister-in-law and her kids.”

Her eyes narrow, and she looks me up and down. She waves her finger back and forth down the length of my body and says, “You don’t look like him. Not one bit. Not to be disrespectful, but your brother is a lazy, no good whippersnapper. Your mama should have given him more swats with the paddle.”

I chuckle and offer her my hand, introducing myself. “My name is River Kelly, ma’am, and I think I like you very much.”

She accepts my handshake and turns to sit in a slat rocking chair that dwarfs her body like that of a child sitting in her mother’s chair.

“Sit,” she says and points to a lawn chair across from her that I’m not sure will support my weight. I take the offered seat, supporting myself with my leg muscles just in case it gives way.

“I’m Millie Chestnut, born and raised in Rockford, California, and I’ve lived in this old house here for forty years with my Benjamin till he died six years ago.”

I imagine she’s been monitoring the neighborhood regularly for the past six years from this porch. She has my brother pegged, and I’m sure he’s not the only neighbor.

“Did you know David and Misty well?” I ask, knowing full well that she probably knows their underwear and shoe sizes.

“I knew your Misty and the kids. She was such a hard worker, always packing up that car of hers, taking kids to ball games and dance or going to work. Your brother wasn’t one I wanted to know.”

“I wish I didn’t know him either. If you don’t mind me asking, who left first, Misty or David?”

“David had himself a mistress,” she says in a hushed voice. “She came over all the time when poor Misty was at work. As soon as Misty pulled out of the drive, that hussy of his would show up and just let herself in.”

“I think I met her at our family dinner last night. She’s a peach.” I roll my eyes, and the hint of a smile twitches at the corner of her mouth.

“David says Misty left him first, though. You’re sure it was him?”

“Yep, they got in an argument one afternoon, and he stormed out of the house cursing and saying awful things about her. She locked the doors and threw all his clothes out the second-story window into the driveway. I wanted to cheer her on, but it’s not any of my business, you know.”

I almost choke on my spit when she throws in that last part about it not being her business. Millie is hilarious. I’d love to sit here on her porch and gossip with her all day, but I have a brother to pummel and a dance class to attend.

“Do you have any idea where they might have gone? I’m trying to make sure Misty and the kids are safe.”

“Well, like I said, it’s not my business, but . . . Misty was friends with Cora across the street. Their kids played together, and they helped each other out sometimes. Anyway, Cora says that Susanna—she lives three houses up,” she says and points to a green house on the opposite side of the street with her long thin finger.

“She works for United Airlines, and she saw Misty and the kids get on a plane to Texas. But you didn’t hear that from me.” Millie looks up and down the street like someone might be able to hear her gossiping.

“Texas? Any particular part of Texas?”

“Oh, I think Dallas is what she said. I don’t know all the particulars.”

Yes, she does. Millie knows the smallest of particulars.

“Any reason she chose Texas?”

“Friends there, something like that. Do you care for some coffee? We can go inside and sit on the Davenport and chit-chat if you’d like.”

I think Millie needs some attention, but right now, I’m not the person to give it to her.

“Oh, no, thank you. I have to be going. I have a class, and I don’t want to be late.” I want to be on time so I can show Angel that I respect what she’s doing for our team . . . and also so I can look at her spectacular ass.

Millie’s eyes light up when I mention class.

“I used to be a teacher, you know. Fourth grade. I loved teaching children.”

“Oh, no, it’s not that kind of class. It’s ballet. We have to learn to be more graceful, according to our coach.”

“Ballet, huh? Yeah, your coach is right. Football players can be downright clumsy. I watched a lot of ball with Benjamin. He loved football. I learned to love it, too, over the years.”

“Do you ever watch the Sparks?”

“Oh, why yes, of course.”

“That’s my team.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re taking ballet then. You boys sure do need it.”

I smile and stand to leave.

“Could I ask you a favor, Millie?”

“Yes.”

“Could you call me if anyone shows up at my brother’s house?”

Millie fidgets in her chair before answering.

“I will, but I’m not always out here watching what’s going on, you know. People’s business is their business. I’m no gossip.”

“Of course you aren’t. I just meant if you happen to see anyone while you’re working in the yard or something, maybe you could let me know.”

Millie is ultra-sensitive about being the neighborhood gossip queen. Someone must have been outed by her sharp detective work.

She relaxes in her chair when I refer to the task casually.

“All right, if I happen to see someone, I’ll ring you. What’s your number?”

“Do you have something I can write on?”

“I don’t need you to write it down. Just tell me. I’m still sharp as a tack,” she says, tapping her finger on her temple. I tell her my number, knowing I’ll most likely never hear from her.

“Thanks for filling me in, Millie. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. Next time, you will stay for coffee.”

I wasn’t planning on there being a next time, but her tone says otherwise.

“Absolutely. Have a nice day.” I descend the creaking stairs that lead to her patio and back to my car. It’s time to go to ballet class. Now there’s a thought I never anticipated having.

I’m about to close the door when I hear Millie call out, “Have fun at ballet class!” Oh, that lady is saucy. I may have to come and have coffee with her after all.

Chapter Seven

Angel

This butterfly thing is annoying. I’ve felt a little nervous before a performance before, but never full-on nauseating flutters. This is a class to teach a bunch of football players how to distribute their body weight more efficiently, for heaven's sake. Nothing like the case of nerves I expect to have when I dance for a spot in the San Francisco Dance Company next week.

But the thought of seeing River again is exciting. It shouldn’t be, but it is. I absolutely cannot get involved right now. A relationship is career suicide at this stage in the game, and I’ve worked so hard. I can’t let my hormones steal the show.

It has been a long time, though, and it’s not like we would be starting a serious relationship or anything. Why in the hell am I even worried about it? He hasn’t even made a move yet.

The guys are rowdier than yesterday when they enter the studio. It’s easy to see by their lack of inhibition that they’re more comfortable with the idea of taking ballet. I heard one guy whistle and catcall a dancer when he walked in the building. I hope it wasn’t one of our younger girls, because that might become a problem.

“Okay everyone, settle down. We have a lot to work on, so we need to get started. Is everyone here?” I ask, already knowing River is absent. What if he doesn’t show?

It never crossed my mind that he might not show up. There was chemistry between us. I felt it, and I know he did too. There I go again with the hopeful romantic crap. I have got to get my mind right about this.

I will not date. I will not drink. I will not stay up past eleven at night. Those are the kind of thoughts I need to have playing on repeat in my head.

“Everybody but lover boy,” Channing Tatum lookalike says.

“He’ll be here. He texted me that he’s running late. Go ahead, pretty lady, teach me some more of your French dance moves,” Brick House says with a swivel of his hips.

For ten minutes, I help them lift their legs to the bar for some warm-up stretches. I’ve almost forgotten about my missing student when a knock at the door interrupts the class. It opens a crack, and River pokes his head in.

“Am I too late?” he asks.

“Come in. Hurry, though. I’m about to teach everyone the five ballet positions.” He smirks and lowers his eyes to the floor, still leaning around the door. Maybe he’s just as immature as the rest of them. The mention of positions has caused a ripple of chuckles to spread across the room.

The door swings open, and I drink in the sight of him, every well-groomed, athletic inch of him. Why couldn’t he be a slob with bad breath and a gut? It would be so much easier to teach this class if he were.

“I apologize. That was rude. I’m also sorry for being late.”

I briefly shift my gaze to the floor and turn around to face the mirror.

“It’s fine. Let’s begin.”

Forty-five minutes fly by, and I’m standing at the sound system while the guys file out. I’m still working on slowing my pounding heart when I hear the door close. My posture relaxes, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I made it. Thankfully, River is a pretty good dancer, and I didn’t have to get too close to him.

“That bad, huh?”

I jump and grasp the edge of the table holding the sound system. A shiver of excitement zips up my spine.

He didn’t leave.

He closed the door.

I am now alone in an empty ballet studio with the most handsome man I’ve ever met. Why couldn’t he have left with the rest of them?

“Oh, no, you were all great. I’m just a little tired. Sorry if it looked like I was frustrated.” I take a deep breath and turn around to face him head on. Be strong, Angel, be strong.

“You don’t have to lie on my account. I know we’re a bunch of bozos. You have a lot of patience. I could never do it—teach, I mean. Are your other classes this challenging?”

“You guys tie with my all-boy junior high class.” I’ve regained a smidgen of my composure, enough that I came up with an intelligent response to his question.

“Junior high, huh? Wow, that’s pretty bad.” River quietly moves across the floor in his tennis shoes. I was a little disappointed at first that he didn’t dress the way he did yesterday, but this sporty look works on him just as well. High fashion River Kelly is metrosexual hot. Sporty River Kelly is a manly hot. Either way, he could melt the panties off any women within a hundred-mile radius. The best part is that he isn’t an egotistical ass about it. He’s humble and approachable.

“They seem to look up to you. Maybe you could help them in the maturity department.”

“You think I’m mature?” He lays his hand on his heart and laughs. “My brothers and sisters would argue that to their death.”

I prop my ass against the table behind me and wrap my fingers around the edge. I feel like I need an anchor, something to hold me in place so I won’t float away. He continues to move closer to me, and my heart rate accelerates accordingly. Keep it together, Angel. Don’t let him affect you this way.

“Do you come from a big family?” There, that’s a pretty benign question. If I can come up with another thirty or so of those, I might be able to inch my way to the door and escape like I did yesterday.

“I do. There are eight of us all together. I’m the youngest.”

Now that surprises me. People don’t have families like that anymore. I’ve never known anyone with more than two or three siblings.

“Wow, eight? I bet you got teased a lot.”

“Not as much as you’d think. We were pretty spread out in age. But I’ve had my fair share of wet willies and wedgies, for sure. How about you? Any siblings?”

He sidles up next to me and copies my position, propping himself against the table. His movements are slow and deliberate, like he’s approaching a cornered animal. His voice is so velvety and hypnotizing, I can’t help but relax a little.

I’m still anxious and nervous, but being sweaty and flushed can easily be blamed on dancing. What he doesn’t know is that it takes a lot more than an hour-long class to make me sweat. The beads of sweat on my forehead and the blush in my cheeks started the second I knew he closed the studio door.

“Yeah, I have an older sister, but that’s all. My parents started late. They were lucky to have two healthy kids.”

He turns to face me, and I feel obligated to look at him. When I turn my head, we are so close, I can feel his warm breath on my face. The air between us sizzles with possibilities that I can’t entertain.

“They were very lucky to have you. You’re incredibly talented. They must be very proud.” His eyes are focused on my mouth as he speaks, and when he’s finished, he drags them slowly up to mine. If I lean a couple of inches in his direction, our lips will touch. I consider it for five or ten seconds before turning away and staring at my battered pink ballet shoes.

“My mom is. My dad wanted me to be a doctor. Hell, he would have settled for my becoming a nurse, as long as I was in healthcare.”

“Why?”

“He is a neurosurgeon, and Mom’s a nurse, and my sister, Heaven, is a pediatrician. I’m the proverbial black sheep,” I say, shuffling my feet around on the polished wood floor.

“That’s hardly fair. He can’t expect everyone to be the same. That’s boring.”

I keep my head down and turn, looking at him out of the corner of my eye.

“Oh, yes he can, and he does, but thanks for taking my side.”

His hand slides toward mine on the edge of the table, and he links his pinky finger with mine. I wasn’t expecting such an intimate gesture. The butterflies are swarming up my esophagus, and the only thing keeping them down is my madly pounding heart.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, and before a rational thought can be sent through the synapsis of my brain, I nod my head up and down. His pinky tightens around mine, and he smiles an I-just-won-the-lottery smile. Oh, God, what have I done?

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up at seven. Will you still be here?”

I nod like a mute under a magical spell and watch helplessly as he leans in to kiss me on the cheek. The room spins, and if I weren’t a professional ballerina who performs pique turns for a living, I’d be on the floor.

“Goodbye, Pretty Dancer,” he whispers in my ear, and he’s on his way out the door before I can change my mind.

I listen to the door click when he closes it, and I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I drop to the floor and sprawl out in an X on my back, with my arm slung over my eyes.

I did not just do that. Twenty years of dancing under my belt, my dream career on the horizon, and I just agreed to the worst kind of distraction. It’s the all-encompassing, hot, sexy, tempting, and seductive sort of distraction, the kind that could end my career.

I could try and fool myself by saying
I’ll be careful
or
this will only be about the sex
. I could rationalize that having a relationship is normal and that I have needs, but I know better.

I’m physically attracted to River—there’s no question—but there is something else that draws me to him. We have only spent two hours together, and I already feel like we could be good friends. He is genuine and kind, a hard combination to find these days.

He still makes me nervous, but it’s more the idea of what could develop that stirs up the butterflies. River himself is easy to be around. He makes me laugh, and he’s not afraid to try new things.

The timing is all wrong, though. It’s like I’ve been running a cross-country race and I’m almost to the finish line, but I stop for a box of chocolates with only a few yards to go. River is my box of chocolates, and getting a spot with the San Francisco Dance Company is my finish line.

I have to cancel this date, and I need my best friend to help me do it. I sigh and sit up to check the time. I have exactly one hour before my next class. I’m suddenly feeling the need for a serious caffeine break.