We were sixteen years apart. I’d shamelessly memorized his age, as well as his address and everything else I knew about him. A boy could daydream—and that was my guilty pleasure. Constructing perfect fantasy lives with men I barely knew. It had never ended happily for me so far. Why would this be any different?
Tom hesitated as he looked at Beth. The cloud that passed over his face was gone in a moment, though. Instead, he just smiled. “We’ll see what I can do about that in a week. But first, I’d have to learn to impress a guy with my moves. I think you might be ahead of me there.”
“Nonsense,” Beth scoffed. “Rusty was impressed just there. Weren’t you, Rusty?”
“Me?” My voice squeaked as they both suddenly looked at me. I cleared my throat. “I mean—yes. I was, actually.”
“See?” Beth grinned triumphantly. Then she gasped and clapped once, looking between us.
My face heated up. Crap. He told her? I readied my defense: I’d tell her that I only had honorable intentions with her father. I wanted him to fit into this new life, and not feel like an outsider. Seeing him hanging around the edges of the dance floor, I’d felt bad.
That was all true, and I could keep close to my chest the fact that he was a delicious geeky snack. Even Beth probably didn’t want to hear that about her dad.
But she wasn’t calling me out for ogling him like a tall glass of lemonade. Instead, Beth said, “Hey… you should keep going with lessons. You’re enjoying yourself. Don’t even pretend you aren’t.”
Phew. My sigh of relief was evident. I looked at Tom and tilted my head, finger-combing my hair into place. “I could make time for one-on-one-lessons. It’s up to you, of course.”
“I’d like that,” Tom said slowly. “If you can put up with me.”
I scoffed. If he had any idea how much I wanted to see him move—feel him move, even. Under me, in me, next to me… I wasn’t picky. “Of course I can.”
“I’d like to not stand out like a sore thumb in a gay bar,” Tom admitted to both Beth and me. “It would do me good to fit in, for once.”
Oh, you can fit in me, I thought, but I bit back my giggle.
“That’s right, Daddy,” Beth exclaimed. She put her arm around him again, resting the side of her head against his. “You deserve to relax and have fun.”
“Everyone tells me this,” Tom told me with a sheepish grin.
I laughed. “Well, maybe it’s time to listen to them, Tom.” I put my hand on his other shoulder. “I’d be happy to help you get in touch with the fabulous dancer in your soul.”
Beth beamed at me in thanks and I smiled back at her. “Now, I’ll let you two get going. No doubt you have a lot to do this week.”
“Oh, you have no idea.” Beth groaned. “Thank goodness for Dill. Your brother is a miracle worker.”
“That he is,” I agreed with a chuckle. I could never do Dill’s job, and normally, I didn’t want to.
Oh, God. Would Dill be mad at me for getting involved with the father of the bride? We had a family rule against it.
Well, not fathers of the bride specifically… anyone in the wedding party. It was designed to prevent conflicts of interest. Since our family was uniquely overinvolved with all the elements of the wedding, it was way too easy to create conflicts under pressure.
Under those circumstances, I shouldn’t have sent Tom the text message that I did as soon as he left the room.
RUSTY: I liked seeing you again. Let me know when you’re free.
And I shouldn’t have squealed and jumped when I got an almost immediate response.
TOM: I want another chance to dance with you. Are Sundays a busy night at the club?
Oh, boy. Not only did he want to see me, but he was making it clear that he wanted to see me outside of my workplace. My doubts about Tom’s interest vanished like that.
It was Sunday evening, meaning I had to shower and head to my parents’ house for the traditional Best family dinner. But after that?
I twirled my way out of the studio as I replied.
RUSTY: It’s a lot quieter but things get busy around 11.
TOM: It’s a date. :)
I actually did squeal at this, flapping my phone around until I nearly dropped it.
“Everything okay?” Derek, the guy who manned the reception, gave me an alarmed look.
“Perfect, baby,” I told him. “All done with studio six. See you tomorrow!” I blew him a kiss and danced out of the studio on thin air.
A date, he’d called it. A real, actual date!
And eleven o’clock was perfect. That would give me enough time to eat, get home and change, and digest supper before I sneaked out to see him. My family didn’t have to know that I had plans after dinner, and I could enjoy more one-on-one time with Tom.
And maybe a kiss this time, at last.
Everyone won, right?
Family dinner at the Best house was rarely anything other than chaos, and I loved it that way.
Today, Dill was cooking, which was okay with me. He was no Blaze, but he did better than Alec. Whatever he was making smelled good, so I left him to it and cornered Mom in the dining room to help set the table.
I tried to gather my nerves, but before I could figure out how to start the conversation, Mom beamed at me. “So, you look like you have something you want to say.” She tucked one wispy, graying curl behind her ear. “Spill the beans, Rusty.”
I’d gotten my red hair from her. She’d gone silver early, but the last streaks of red still lingered. I’d always joked that I knew I was Mom’s favorite because of my hair.
“So, um…” I fiddled with the placemats, my pulse in my throat. I only had one chance to make a first impression of Tom on my mother, and I wanted her to like him. “I’ve met a cute guy, but he’s a little older than me.”
“Uh huh. How much older?” Mom asked, folding her arms. “Are you about to inherit a fortune when you give him a good workout? Cause Mama wants a cute little Porsche.”
“Mom!” I exclaimed, my cheeks flushing as she grinned wickedly. “No. Lord help me.” I groped for my wine glass and gulped from it, then set it down so I could take care of knives and forks. “He’s forty-three.”
“Okay, no Porsche for me yet,” Mom said with a sigh. She sternly eyed me. “But you’d better not be about to tell me how terribly, awfully old that is.”
“I’d never say that,” I protested. I knew better. She was in the, ahem, spring side of her fifties now.
“Good. Because you’re, what… twenty-seven now?”
Injured, I clutched my chest. “Yes. You should know, Mom.”
“Oh, I have so many boys I never know whose birthday it is anymore. Right, Cole?” Her eyes glinted with mischief. She’d just named my older brother’s best friend to pull my leg. I groaned at her.
“Mom, this is serious. I have boy problems. You didn’t bother giving us a sister, so we’re supposed to bond over boy problems.” I was excited yet nervous, and I didn’t know who else to go to. My brothers would just make fun of me in exchange for any helpful words of wisdom. But Mom always knew best.
Mom laughed and put her arm around my shoulders, steering me into my chair while she took her seat. “Tell me about him.”