Chrissy had told me I could date if I wanted to, but that sounded like a miserable half-life and I didn’t want it. All in or all out. Those were the choices. I’d been all in with Chrissy from the moment we met to the moment we finally officially separated.
I didn’t regret a moment of it, even if it had left me ill-equipped to know how to be gay, much less how to dance with a man like I was doing now.
“One, two, three, and tap,” Rusty’s soft voice filtered through my self-consciousness. I kept stumbling, my toes tapping on the wrong beats. It was just a simple left-and-right move! How hard could it be?
My cheeks flushed. If you can’t even dance, you definitely shouldn’t flirt with him. I stared hard over Rusty’s shoulder at the wall, grateful I didn’t have to meet his eyes.
Having a man’s hand on my chest—one so beautiful, graceful, in touch with himself—flooded me with confused desire, yet also an excitement I hadn’t let myself feel in years. I wanted to earn more smiles and laughter from him.
If only he could be into me.
“That’s it,” Rusty told me, squeezing my hands when my feet fell into the rhythm. “Five-six-seven-tap. Light on the balls of your feet. Bouncy. That’s it. You’ll make everyone smile. They don’t expect you to be an expert. They just want you to have fun.”
Fun? I could pretend to be fun, for a couple of nights. Pretend to be Beth’s cool dad and not a repressed IT office drone.
“Great progress,” Rusty finally praised me, after half an hour of switching hands and leading roles, keeping on my toes, bending my knees, and more. It was all a lot of work. Especially since I had to remind myself to breathe when I was close to Rusty. I considered anything else a bonus.
“I can two-step,” I said and shot him a rueful smile. “With a good instructor.”
“You can do a lot more than that,” Rusty told me.
I snorted. “You haven’t seen me in a gay bar. They let me clear out the crowd at the end of the night by unleashing me on the dance floor.”
Rusty grinned at me, his eyes bright. “Oh, really? I’d need to see evidence of this.” He poked me in the chest and rocked back onto his heels. “I think there’s a sense of rhythm hidden in those hips.”
I blushed. No way could I say what I was thinking, but luckily Rusty wasn’t done talking.
He steepled his fingers. “Come back tomorrow and we’ll add the spins,” he told me. “Can you meet me at four?”
“Yeah.” Closest thing to a date I’d had in years.
“Perfect.” Rusty clapped my shoulder and squeezed. When he pulled his hand away, his fingertips trailed down my arm like he wasn’t in a rush to let go. “I’m serious, though, Tom. You’re doing well, and you’ve got potential.”
“Story of my life,” I said, smiling as he giggled. “Thank you for helping me.”
I had one more lesson to enjoy Rusty’s company—with Beth, tomorrow, when we learned the routine together. That was all. But I wanted more.
“My pleasure.” Rusty winked at me and then… he leaned in and pressed his lips against my cheek.
The soft brush of warm skin against mine was overwhelming. Heat burst through my face and my chest. I suddenly couldn’t remember which way the door was. Maybe I’m not the worst dancer in the world, I thought. If I could impress him at our first meeting.
“See you tomorrow,” Rusty said, pulling back and fluttering his fingers before he headed over toward the speaker.
I stared at his retreating back—well, in truth, at his gorgeous little ass in those short shorts—and wished I had an ounce of his confidence, or grace, or beauty.
“See you,” I muttered and fled the room like I’d been burned by the fiery redhead. Still, I felt good in my own body. I didn’t want to stay hiding in a corner, hoping not to be noticed.
Rusty’s flirtation (if it was flirtation) made it obvious how little I knew about just being myself. I’d never been given that opportunity before. But for the first time, he’d made me feel like I could.
Maybe this week, I could be brave enough to make my baby girl happy and let myself shine. Put myself out there and risk looking like a silly old clueless guy.
Let myself feel twenty-something again—but this time, do it right.
Chapter Two
I’ve never felt more beautiful.
Rusty, day 0
“So, what do you do, sweetheart?” The drunk accountant tried to put his arm around me, and I sidled out of his hold lightning quick. Unperturbed, he grinned at me. “With a face like that, you should be in a porno. Ever done that?”
I was just at the bar to get a drink before I went back to the dance floor. This guy leaning against the bar, watching passersby, had seemed cute until he opened his mouth. Almost straight away, he’d turned into a total creep.
“No,” I told him harshly, adjusting bits of my hair while I waited for the bartender to make my vodka soda. “I’m a dancer.”
“Ohhhh.” He propped his elbow on the bar, chin on his fist, clearly thinking he was adorable. “So, do you do freebies?”
“Not exotic. Contemporary.” I wished I’d said choreographer, but when I did, guys never heard me right. Last time I was here, one guy had walked away convinced I was a court stenographer and all his friends had come over to ask for help getting out of parking tickets.
“I like a modern man. Especially the kind who gives me a lap dance, if you get what I mean,” the guy grinned, sliding closer to me elbow-first. He tried to grab for my arm but I shot him a glare that stopped him cold.
“I do,” I told him, handing cash to the bartender in exchange for my drink. I let them keep the change so I could make my escape quicker.
A cold, unpleasant shiver ran through me as I sipped from my plastic cup. Sometimes I didn’t know why I came here. All guys ever wanted was right now, not commitment or taking it slow. I’d already been there and done that when I was twenty-one and dumb. Some guys were still doing that decades later, but I’d lost interest quickly.
Sex was easy to get. Love? Now, that was elusive, and unlikely to be found in the basement of a downtown gay bar. But how else was I going to meet the one, if I didn’t put myself out there?
“Screw this,” I muttered and gulped my drink. I wasn’t going to let one guy shooting his shot get me down.
I wasn’t here to meet the one; I was here to dance, I reminded myself. On my own terms, not in pretty choreography, and not held back by the limits of anyone else.
It had been a long day, and I needed to blow off steam. My family was full of stress right now. My little brother Dill ran our family business, Best Men Inc. He was the planner, and I did choreography for wedding parties. Alec worked as a tailor, and Blaze catered. We hired others to fill in the gaps, like Blaze’s friend Cole who supplied wine, and Blaze’s nemesis Evan who was our emergency replacement baker, after the first guy quit.
It was usually a sweet gig. For me it wasn’t my main source of income—that came from my regular classes. But I loved helping people learn to dance and impress friends and family in videos later. And choreographing a special first dance for couples was such a wonderful job. That was a moment they’d remember for the rest of their lives.