“They’re for a client,” Cassie replied with a grin. “He wants an impressive bookshelf, to make him seem serious and intellectual. I figure these at least have the spines cracked.”
Aidan chuckled. “That’s… kind of pretentious.”
“Oh yes?” Cassie quirked an eyebrow, amused. “Don’t tell me you’ve read every one of those doorstopper coffee table books at your apartment? History of Italian Cinema and Life Cycle of the Snow Leopard.”
“OK, OK.” Aidan grinned. He moved towards the doorway, but Cassie trailed him, fishing one of the old shipbuilding guides from the top of his stack.
“What’s this? You’re going to work on grandpa’s boat?” she asked, looking surprised.
Aidan shrugged. “Maybe. It would be a shame to let it just rot away.”
Cassi smirked. “You, rolling up your sleeves and getting dirty…? I just can’t picture it.”
“I’m not that useless,” Aidan said, with a twinge of defensiveness. “You all act like I’m incapable of taking care of anything.”
“We’re just kidding,” Cassie said, still smiling. “It’s just been so long since I’ve seen you away from your laptop. I started thinking it was surgically attached.”
“No laptop today.” Aidan held up his hands. “And I even left my cellphone in the car.”
Cassie gasped theatrically. “My God! However, will you cope?”
“Funny.”
Cassie trailed him to the next room. “Aww, I’m only teasing. You know you never get out of the office. This is the second time you’ve even visited us all, you didn’t even come for Christmas last year,” she pointed out.
“I was busy. You act like there’s something wrong with working for a living,” he replied, only part-kidding. “It’s not like the rest of you are going to support the family on surfing and dog-walking jobs.” The rest of his family was talented, sure, but they’d always followed their passions – without thinking who would be there picking up the tab if everything went wrong.
“I can support myself just fine,” Cassie said airily. “I have a ton of clients at my design business now, and you know Wes isn’t exactly strapped for cash.”
Aidan paused. She was right, she had made a success of things, but it was still hard for him to see her in a new light. However grown-up she was now, Cassie would always be his baby sister, the one who used to sleep in his closet during thunderstorms because she was scared to be alone. “And there you were, swearing you’d never marry some stuck-up rich guy,” he teased.
“Who said anything about marriage?” Cassie retorted, but there was a sparkle in her eye. “Besides, Wes does have a few other attributes.”
“And... That’s enough about that.” Aidan stopped her, before she could detail exactly what those attributes were.
“You’re right,” Cassie said. “We don’t need to be talking about my love life, when you’re the one who’s still single…” She gave him a speculative look. “What’s your type these days?”
Aidan gave her a look. “No. Absolutely not.”
“You wouldn’t even meet someone?” Cassie asked. “Because I can think of some amazing women—”
“I’m not looking to get involved.” Aidan said firmly. “What would be the point? I’m not staying here for long.”
Cassie sighed. “Fine, have it your own way. Die a sad, lonely bachelor if you must!”
“Sounds good to me,” Aidan replied. But as he headed for the front desk to pay, he couldn’t resist adding a couple of those fantasy books, too. Just in case he ran into Matty again. Or Stella.
Any good neighbor would do the same. Right?
By the time Monday night rolled around, Stella had almost talked herself out of this dance class idea. She hadn’t actually agreed to go; Aidan had just streamrolled right ahead and booked it for her. Besides, she had laundry to do, and invoices to file, and she should really get started on meal prep for the week…
But as the evening drew near, she remembered how much fun she’d had, spinning around the dance floor at the festival. Maybe she would go, just this once, and see what the fuss was all about. So, after finishing up a particularly stinky sewer clean-out job, she went home, took a shower, and put on her most comfortable pair of heels, and the skirt that always swirled out around her hips. She left Matty with his homework, and drove the short distance up the coast to Provincetown, a larger community on the tip of the Cape.
The dance studio was set back down one of the old cobbled streets, above an empty storefront and up a flight of stairs. Stella cautiously opened the door and looked around. It was a long, L-shaped room with mirrors along one wall, a polished, pockmarked floor, and an old-style record player in the corner.
“Welcome, welcome!” An elegant-looking woman in her sixties spotted Stella hovering in the doorway and beckoned her in. She had vivid dyed red hair and thick mascara, wearing a patterned dress cinched around her impossibly tiny waist. “I’m Madame Polkoff,” she said, with a slight European accent. “And you must be our newest victim. I mean, recruit,” she added with a wink.
“Hi.” Stella introduced herself, glancing around at the rest of the students. It was a motley group: two older women in tap shoes and vintage party dresses, a couple of middle-aged men, and a pair of young lovers having what looked like a whispered argument across the room. “I’ve never taken any lessons…” she started to apologize, but Madame waved her objections away.
“That doesn’t matter. In fact, I prefer it. Some people pick up terrible habits. No, I like a block of clay to mold to my whims,” she declared dramatically.
“Well, that’s me. As blocky as they come.” Stella retreated to the corner and shrugged off her jacket. She wondered if she’d made a mistake, coming here tonight. She was probably going to make a fool of herself, and for what? It wasn’t as if she was ever going to use the steps. Fred Astaire was long gone, and not likely to come waltz her down the middle of Main Street any time soon.
“Are you a beginner, too?”
She turned. It was one of the middle-aged men, in his late 40s, maybe, with an eager smile and a balding spot. “I’m new, too. Warning: klutz alert! Haha.” The man gave a nervous laugh. “Ronald,” he added.
“Nice to meet you,” Stella said, trying to be friendly. “What made you decide to sign up?”
“It’s supposed to be a great way to meet people,” Ronald said, fixing her with a hopeful smile. “Women, I mean.”
“Oh.” Stella swallowed. “Great.”
“Perhaps we should pair up,” Ronald suggested, moving closer. “I promise I won’t tread on your toes too much.”
Stella was searching for a polite way to turn him down when a male voice smoothly interrupted them. “Sorry, but she’s with me.”
It was Aidan.
Stella stared in disbelief. He was wearing a light blue cashmere sweater and two-day stubble, looking breathtakingly, dangerously sexy even under the fluorescent studio lights.