Marrying the Guide (Forestville Silver Foxes)

Chapter 6

6

HOWELL

T he sun showed her glorious evening colors, painting the sky in bright orange and yellow. I laced up my dance shoes, which had been gathering dust in the back of my closet for more years than I cared to admit. The last time I wore them might’ve been at my wedding. Fuck, I was getting old.

But no, none of that now. Not when anticipation buzzed through my veins. All day, I’d been looking forward to tonight’s date. Even when leading a zipline excursion, I’d barely been able to keep my focus. My thoughts had drifted to Onno and how much fun we’d had two days before.

I’d wanted to hang out with him yesterday, but I’d been called in for a search and rescue. A female solo hiker hadn’t made it back at the agreed-upon time, and her family had called in help. Luckily, she’d worn a GPS tracker, which made finding her easy. Though it had required a two-hour climb because she’d been halfway up King Mountain. She’d slipped and hit her head and was still dizzy and confused from a concussion when we found her. We’d made it back safely, but by then, it had been too late to meet up with Onno.

Finding something else to do that was original and fun had been a challenge on such short notice, but I’d pulled it off—with a little help from Bubbles, who’d sent a list of suggestions. I wanted to offer Onno the chance to try new things, but with me instead of alone. Tonight, we’d learn to waltz. I’d double-checked with Onno to ensure he was up for it, but he’d assured me his feet had recovered enough to swirl on the dance floor.

Once again, he was waiting for me outside the bakery, dressed in dark blue slacks and a crisp pink polo shirt. God, he was so gorgeous. He slid into my truck with much more ease and grace, then leaned in for a kiss, which I happily gave. I kept it brief, though. I didn’t want to give Brianna and her husband a show, but that was fine. If the night went according to plan, we’d have more time for longer kisses later. And maybe more.

“You look nice,” he said. His blond hair caught the last rays of light that streamed through the window, giving him an otherworldly aura.

“Thank you. The shoes feel weird, I gotta say. Haven’t worn them in a long time.”

“Mine aren’t dance shoes, but they’re nice enough. I didn’t bring them with me, and I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice by buying new shoes.”

“Smart.”

He chuckled. “I have my moments. But if I step on your toes, you can’t hold it against me. Gerard used to say I dance like a clumsy giraffe.”

“Your ex sounds like a real charmer,” I muttered, and Onno’s smile faltered. Shit. He’d brought up his ex, but hell if I’d allow that asshole to ruin our date. “We’ll just have to make some new memories. Yeah?”

He sent me a grateful smile. “I’d like that.”

We arrived at the studio as twilight settled, the mountains now silhouette against the darkening sky. The town was quiet, but the dance studio buzzed with an energy that felt like a world away from the quiet wilderness where I found solace.

“Ah, you must be Howell and Onno. Welcome!” Our dance instructor, José, greeted us with a flourish as vibrant as the flamboyant scarf looped around his neck. He was a whirlwind of encouragement and enthusiasm, moving with the grace of someone who had dedicated his life to the art of dance.

“Come, meet the others.” José beckoned, sweeping us into the studio, where soft music played and couples chatted in loose groups. “Everyone, these are our new dancers, Howell and Onno.”

A murmur of welcoming “Hellos” and “How are you?” followed. Tiago Banner was there with his boyfriend, Cas. Cas had done a stellar job fixing my bathroom two years ago. Tiago and his twin brother, Tomás, were Forestville’s most famous residents, though both former top models had now retired. They were still extraordinarily handsome men.

The polished floor of the dance studio gleamed under the warm lighting as Onno and I stepped into place among the other couples. José’s voice, clear and melodious, cut through the soft hum of music, guiding us to stand face-to-face, our hands tentatively searching for the right positions.

“Relax your shoulders, Howell,” José said, and I obliged. Some of the tension of the unfamiliarity ebbed away under his encouraging gaze.

“Okay, gentlemen, let’s start with the box step,” he said, demonstrating with fluid ease. “Forward, side, together, back, side, together.”

I mirrored his movements, hyperaware of Onno’s presence. We stumbled, our feet tangling in a clumsy shuffle. Onno’s chuckles, a sound so genuine, coaxed a smile onto my lips.

“Sorry,” he murmured, but his eyes showed no real apology—just sparkling amusement.

“Hey, no worries. We’re both learning.”

José paced before us, tapping the rhythm softly against his thigh, and gradually, we found our stride. One-two-three, one-two-three—the numbers looped in my head like a mantra, syncing with the steady thump of my heart every time our gazes locked.

“Look at you two!” José said after a while, clapping in delight. “You’ve got the basics down already.”

“Thanks to you,” Onno replied, his blue eyes crinkling, shining with a warmth that hadn’t been present when we’d first met, a softening around the edges. And something inside me swelled with an emotion I couldn’t name. His nervousness had also lessened as if he wasn’t as scared of disappointing me or others.

“Shall we try it with music now?” José asked, and without waiting for an answer, he started a melodic waltz that tempted the dancers with its lilting invitation.

As we danced, the world beyond Onno’s gaze seemed to fade. What was left was his hand in mine, firm and reassuring, and his other hand on my shoulder, following my lead confidently. Our steps flowed more naturally, the initial awkwardness melting into a rhythm that felt as easy as breathing.

“See? You’re a natural,” I said.

“Then so are you.”

“Maybe we’re just a good match…”

Our smiles became a silent language, the growing connection between us pulsating to the cadence of the waltz. I reveled in feeling Onno’s body moving with mine, the dance crafting an intimate space where words were unnecessary and the past held no sway.

“Good job, guys,” José praised again as the song neared its end, but I barely heard him. All I could focus on was Onno, whose eyes never wavered from mine. Electric current charged the air as our hands remained clasped even after the music stopped.

As José called for a water break, Onno and I slipped away to a quiet corner of the dance studio. The mirrors lining the walls reflected the flushed faces of the other couples, but all I could see was the blue in Onno’s eyes, bright against the sheen of sweat on his brow.

“Didn’t think I’d work up a sweat from dancing.” Onno ran a hand through his locks, damp at the temples.

I wasn’t sweating, but then again, my daily activity level was several steps up from his. “Consider it a bonus. You get to learn to dance and exercise at the same time.”

“You know, I didn’t expect to enjoy this as much as I am.” He held my gaze, earnest and unguarded. His honesty was like an open door, inviting me into the warmth of his presence. “It’s…nice to feel connected to someone again. To laugh and move together. It’s been a while.”

“Same here,” I said. “Dancing with you feels natural. Right.”

He smiled, a smile that reached his eyes and made my heart beat a little faster. “Glad to hear I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

Before we could delve deeper into the conversation, the music beckoned us back, the rhythm promising a chance to further explore our burgeoning affinity. As we rejoined the group, José clapped, setting the tempo for the next dance.

“All right, let’s take it from the top!” José said. “Remember, it’s all about finding your rhythm with your partner.”

Onno’s hand found mine again, this time with confidence. A jolt of excitement surged through me. Our bodies moved in unity, the waltz steps becoming second nature as we glided across the floor. With each turn, twirl, and twist, the world narrowed to just the two of us, our breathing synchronized, our hearts beating as one, our movements a mirror of each other’s.

As the lesson continued, our coordination and rhythm improved, our steps and spins and spirals reinforcing the silent bond forming between us. The dance had started as a chance to learn, but now it felt like a language all its own—one that allowed us to converse through the push and pull of our intertwined figures.

As the final notes of the song faded like the softest of whispers, the room erupted in applause. We parted, breathless and flushed, joining the others in their appreciation. José approached us with a wide smile and clapped us on the back.

“Bravo, gentlemen! Your connection is palpable. That’s what dancing is all about.”

“Thank you, José,” I said. “Your instructions made it seem easy.”

“Ah, but the joy is in finding the right partner.” José winked, a knowing in his gaze, a recognition of the bond that had formed between us on the dancefloor.

As I stepped out of the dance studio, the cool Forestville air hit my flushed skin like a splash of mountain-stream water. The heat in my body had little to do with the exercise and everything to do with Onno. He’d set something ablaze inside me.

We strolled hand in hand back to my truck, leaving behind the rhythmic echoes of music and laughter. Our steps were unhurried, syncing naturally as if the dance had spilled over into our walk. Main Street was quiet, the shops darkened for the night, but the ever-present silhouette of the mountains stood as silent witnesses.

When we got to my truck, I opened the door for him, but he kissed me. Unlike the first time, there was nothing tentative about this kiss. Desire surged through me like wildfire, and our mouths moved together with a passion that had been building up since the moment our hands touched, as if the dancing had been foreplay.

He threaded his fingers through my hair, tugging gently, sending sparks shooting down my spine. I pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, exploring the taste of him—sweet like sugary pastries and intoxicating like the crisp mountain air.

I slid my hand to his ass, absorbing his heat through the fabric of his slacks, and he responded by surging deeper into my mouth, his tongue exploring mine with a fervor that matched the racing of my heart. He backed me up against my truck. I loved this newfound confidence, this touch of assertiveness. As if he’d found a part of himself again that had been lost.

Onno’s hands weren’t idle either. He unbuttoned my shirt and roamed over my chest, across my stomach, and down to my waist. My cock was so hard I was glad no one could see it because I’d be giving an X-rated show.

“God, you’re incredible,” I murmured against his lips, my hands tracing the contours of his body, committing the feel of him to memory. His scent, a mix of cologne and clean sweat, filled my nostrils, intoxicating and exhilarating.

His response was a sinful moan that vibrated into my mouth. I wanted more than a stolen kiss in public. I wanted all of him.

“Come home with me?” The words spilled out, tinged with longing and the anticipation of what could unfold between us. Each syllable hung heavily in the charged air, and I waited, eager, hopeful.

Onno’s blue eyes radiated a raw vulnerability, but he nodded slowly, the corner of his mouth quirking upward in that sweet smile I was becoming addicted to. “I’d love that.”