6. A Place to Twirl
A Place to Twirl
Mina
T he whole lying around and couch rotting lasted less than forty-eight hours. I’ve never been one for loafing, likely because my teenage years were filled with practice and performances instead of cheap liquor hangovers and bad decisions.
My mom says I was born old, but sometimes I think I was born scared.
Scared to fail. Scared to succeed. Scared to step one inch out of line for fear of losing it all.
Joke’s on me, though.
I lost it all, anyway.
But now, thanks to Braden, I have a second chance.
And I get to live with the most gorgeous man on the face of the planet.
A man I have zero idea what to do with, or how to behave around. I know he likes me, but I’m unsure if that extends beyond a little sister type affection. Sure, he’s sweet and kind, but besides a few forehead kisses, nothing has happened in the ten days since I’ve been living under his roof.
One positive is I’ve yet to see another woman here, so hopefully Braden is truly single, and I stand a snowball’s chance in hell of winning his affections.
He was dating some woman last month, but he hasn’t mentioned her, and I’m sure not inquiring.
Sometimes ignorance is bliss. That, and I’d hate to explain to an emergency room doctor why Braden’s date is covered in claw marks, courtesy of yours truly.
He might be my fake fiancé, but for now, he’s mine. And God help me, I’m fiercely territorial… over a man I’m too scared to touch.
Not that I haven’t replayed our kiss about a million times in my brain or fantasized about what might happen should we run into each other in the hallway, naked and damp from a shower.
But that’s as far as it’s gone, and unless I grow a whole bunch of gumption, it’s on Braden to make the first move—something I don’t think he’s willing to do.
“Ugh,” I mutter, pushing myself off the couch.
Time to rejoin the world of the living. Braden mentioned pruning the plants in the greenhouse. Maybe I’ll help him out.
Bonus is that I can stay off my foot, as per his demand, all while thoroughly enjoying the view.
I remember the first time Braden walked into One More Page. I damn near dropped the coffeepot on my foot when he smiled at me. He was all man, totally unlike the boys I’d met in school, with a swagger that exuded a quiet, but deadly confidence.
He was tall and fit with shaggy dark hair and the most piercing green eyes, but it was his smile that sealed the deal. The moment it stretched across his face, a warmth bubbled up inside me, and I was a goner.
I swear, his smile rivals the sun.
Ever since that day, I’ve been a lovesick fool for the man.
“Braden? Are you around?” I peek into the living room and dining area, but they’re empty .
Then I hear it. A banging sound coming from the far end of the house.
A rhythmic, continuous banging sound.
I pause in the hallway, unsure if I want to know what activity Braden is currently engaged in.
“Braden?”
“I’m in here. Hang on a second. Don’t come in.” There’s a fierceness to his tone which stops me in my tracks.
Lovely. So much for the whole no women in the house idea. Guess he hoped by using the far room that I wouldn’t notice.
Bad luck, I guess—for us both.
I grind to a halt, screwing my eyes shut against the visual I am damn certain I don’t want to have.
“Sorry to interrupt. I have a question to ask you.”
“No problem. Just a second.”
Great. He sounds winded, too. Isn’t this just wonderful?
I suck in a deep breath and try to find my center, my calm. It’s not happening.
Braden steps into the hallway, a sheen of sweat gleaming on his bare chest and arms. He closes the door behind him and shoots me an uneasy smile. “Are you okay?”
Absolutely not. Not in any way, shape or form.
Steeling my nerves, I plant a hand on my hip, determined to appear unbothered by the situation. Here’s hoping my acting skills are on par with my dancing ones. “Apparently not as good as you.”
I meant for my comment to sound light and flirty.
Yeah, that doesn’t happen.
My words sound as bitter as they taste.
But give me some grace, folks. I’m about to come face to face with the woman Braden is screwing. At least I’m still standing and not collapsed in a puddle in the corner.
Braden releases a chuckle, wiping a hand across his brow. “Worked up a bit of a sweat. ”
That’s it. God hates me.
“I see that,” I reply, my voice strangled in my throat.
It’s a wild rush of emotions—turned on by the sight of Braden half-naked, and crushed, knowing he was fully naked with someone else just moments ago.
“You needed to ask me something?” Braden prompts, taking a few steps toward me.
I focus my gaze on the floor as words fail me. Not a single sentence pops into my brain as I search the baseboards for answers. “It’s not important. I like your tattoo.”
Wow. Nailed it, Mina. “I like your tattoo.” Real smooth. What are you, fifteen?
Braden chuckles. “Which one? I have quite a few.”
“The uh… the warrior.” I wave my hand in his general vicinity, still unable to meet his gaze.
But if Braden notices my discomfort, he isn’t letting on. He closes the gap until we’re standing toe to toe. Then he grasps my fingers and rests my palm against the ink decorating the left side of his chest.
My breath hitches at the impromptu contact, my fingers curling slightly against his warm, slick skin.
“It’s manga style. The warrior represents the battles I’ve fought, and the ones I’ve lost.”
I cut my gaze upward to the design, acutely aware of the intensity of Braden’s stare. But I can’t meet it. Not yet. Instead, I trace my fingers along the outline of the warrior’s sword, feeling Braden’s muscles flex beneath my touch. “I didn’t realize.”
“Realize what?”
“That you’ve lost things, too.”
“We all lose things. It’s how you deal with that loss, which makes you strong.” He places his hand over mine, and I feel the thrum of his heart.
Or maybe it’s the beating of my own.
“That’s why you’re one of the strongest women I know. ”
“Trust me, Braden, I’m not strong at all.”
And when I meet your fuck buddy, you’ll realize how weak I am.
“Agree to disagree.” Braden squeezes my fingers. “Come on, I want to show you something.”
My eyes widen as he motions toward the closed door. “I’m good.”
Actually, I’m three seconds away from throwing up, but I’ll keep that sentiment to myself.
A strange smile plays on Braden’s mouth. “Nope, this you have to see. Close your eyes.”
Fuck my life.
“I’m terrible with surprises,” I manage, my voice cracking like a teenage boy going through puberty.
But Braden is undeterred. “You’re going to like this one. Just close your eyes.”
If it involves another woman or you trying to push me into a threesome, trust me, I’m going to despise it.
Braden shakes his head at my stubborn stance and steps behind me to cover my eyes. “Since you won’t play along, I’ll have to force my hand.”
“But—”
He presses a soft kiss against my cheek, which sends a skittering of tingles through me as his beard tickles my skin. “No arguments. Come on.”
He leads me toward the door, and I dread the outcome more with each step.
“Trust me,” he murmurs, his mouth dancing near my ear. “You’re going to love this surprise.”
Not possible. I don’t care if his surprise is a blonde, brunette or redhead—I know I’m going to hate her on sight.
And if she’s still naked, then all bets are off. Screw an emergency room visit. They won’t find the body.
“You ready?” Braden asks.
“Definitely not,” I mutter, the blood pounding in my ears.
“Too bad.” He slides his hands away. “Open your eyes. ”
“Do I have to?”
“Shit, Mina, now you’re making me nervous. Just open your eyes.”
So, I do. And what I see takes my breath away.
There is no woman of any variety in the room. No bed or post coital experience.
Mirrored panels stretch along one wall with a dance barre fixed securely beneath them. The wood floor shines like glass, freshly polished. In the corner, a mat and recovery chair sit untouched and waiting for use.
Braden shoves his hands in his pockets, that gorgeous grin lighting his features. “You told me you loved twirling, but you had no room for it at your mom’s house. Well, we have room here. I figured that now, you can twirl whenever you want.”
Tears spring to my eyes as I walk the length of the barre, completely overwhelmed by Braden’s gesture. “You did this for me?”
“Who else would I do it for?” He laughs, running a hand over his jaw.
“But why?”
“I know how much dancing means to you. It hurt my heart that you haven’t been able to partake. Figured I could do something about that.” Braden rubs the back of his neck, his gaze flicking to the floor like he’s bracing for a letdown. “I know it’s not perfect, but?—”
I rush to his side and clasp his hands in mine, pressing kisses to his roughened fingers as the tears slip from my eyes. “It’s better than perfect. I can’t believe you did this. When did you find the time?”
A slight flush colors his cheeks as he thumbs away the tears rolling down my cheeks. “I haven’t slept much the last few nights.”
“I would have helped you.”
“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise. See? I told you not all surprises are bad. ”
“Best surprise of my life.” I kick off my shoes, gingerly stretching my foot. “Time to test this ankle.”
Braden shakes his head and hands in tandem. “Not right now. Your ankle needs to heal.”
“You don’t build a girl a dance studio for twirling and then tell her to sit on the sidelines. I’ll be careful. But a room this beautiful requires at least one pirouette.”
With a fortifying breath, and fully aware of Braden’s eyes on me, I walk to the barre, running my hand along the smooth wood. I close my eyes and will my ankle to hold as I rise onto the balls of my feet and find my balance.
My grace.
Then I spin in a tight soutenu and glide the length of the room like I never stopped dancing.
When I reach the end of the barre, I release a triumphant yell and clap my hands together, the happiness overtaking my soul.