Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
FRANKIE
I t’s like I’ve smacked Danny across the face. His mouth is moving but no sound’s coming out. Luckily, that gives me an opportunity to backtrack, or better still, act like it never happened.
“Come on.” I get to my feet. “Dinner time.”
“Frankie!” Danny leaps up so fast, he kicks his chair into the glade. “Shit!”
In the time it takes him to fetch and right it, I’ve placed my empty glass in the sink and am back out on the porch ready to go.
“Frankie.” His hair has fallen over his forehead, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Sorry for the possum in headlights act back there. You just … took me by surprise.”
Guess pretending it didn’t happen is now out of the question.
“I know,” I admit. “I took myself by surprise, too. Sorry. I was … feeling weird.”
“Okay, so…” Danny’s still a little breathless. “Uh, is your offer still open? Or do you want me to forget this ever happened?”
His goddamn hair is curling over his forehead and my fingers are twitching, desperate to gently coax it back in place. I’ve had an emotional afternoon and one fairly strong bourbon, and I should trust my ever-cautious instincts and back away. I should but I don’t.
“I can’t tell,” I say, honestly. “Like I said, I have all these stupid emotions churning around in me, and sometimes I don’t know what the hell I feel!”
Damn it. Danny’s calm enough now to realize his hair’s messy and he pushes the curls off his forehead. I feel like an idiot dork but his smile is kind. I’m not the super huggy type but I’m about a second away from throwing myself into Danny’s arms. So maybe there’s my answer?
“Okay,” I say. “I do want to … you know … but I also want to stick to the plan and get to know each other properly. And I don’t know how to reconcile the two.”
“Can I make a suggestion?” Danny says. “Feel free to ignore it if it’s dumb.”
“Well, I have nothing,” I tell him. “So even the dumbest suggestion’s better than that.”
“How about we tell everyone that I’ve asked you to give me dance lessons?” says Danny. “In private, so no one can laugh at me. Nate will buy that. Then we can come back here, dance a little in case anyone snoops, and see how we feel after that. No pressure, I promise.”
“Shelby wants to watch Gilmore Girls ,” I say.
“You’re not leaving for a while,” Danny says. “Might not be time for all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls but you can certainly fit in the four-hour 2016 special.”
“How do you know so much about Gilmore Girls ?” I demand.
“I’m also very well informed about Dawson’s Creek and Felicity ,” he replies. “There was a distinct viewing divide in the Durant family, and on the whole, I preferred hanging out with Izzy and Mom.”
Then he adds, “Anyway. Dumb suggestion?”
He sounds hesitant, unsure, and I think that’s what tips the balance.
“Not dumb,” I say. “But I can’t promise anything.”
“I won’t expect you to,” he says. “Truly. Whatever you want to do is good with me.”
We both stand there, not quite knowing whether to smile or not. I decide to take charge.
“We’d better go, or we’ll be late for dinner,” I say. “Despite Shelby doing her best to drive it out of him like a demon, Nate still insists on punctuality.”
“That he does,” Danny agrees. “Give me a minute to lock up, pardner, and we’ll skedaddle.”
Dinner is fine. Just fine. Danny spins the line about dance lessons, and Shelby buys it without question. Though she’s disappointed.
“I was really looking forward to watching TV with you,” she says.
“Let’s do a binge-watch tomorrow night,” I offer. “The whole Year in the Life special in one go.”
“Okay!” My sister is easily pleased.
Nate, however , is more naturally suspicious. “How will you do dance lessons in that tiny house?”
Luckily, Danny is prepared. “We’ll use the workshop. There’s enough clear area in there.”
“There’s also a lot of sharp tools,” Nate points out.
“We’ll be careful,” says Danny. “Given I don’t even know the basic steps yet, I doubt we’ll be getting too physical.”
A piece of food goes down the wrong way, and I have a short coughing fit.
Nate stares at me and then at Danny, who meets his brother’s stern eye with a face-full of innocence.
“Don’t break anything,” are Nate’s final, and somewhat ambiguous, words.
When we reach the path through the trees, Danny stops and says, “It’s not too late to change your mind. About everything, including the dance lessons. Because I googled the Lindy Hop, and I don’t mind admitting that it intimidated the shit out of me.”
“I don’t want to change my mind.” I sound way more confident than I feel.
“Okay,” says Danny. “But be gentle with me.”
Suddenly, I’m torn. I want to walk on and I want to pull back. I want to laugh and get close to Danny as he learns to dance. I want to run away and never see him again. I want to kiss him, and maybe go further than that. I want to wait, possibly forever, so I’ll never make any mistake that might cause myself a power of hurt.
“Hey…”
Danny’s quiet voice breaks through my thoughts.
“Say the word and I’ll walk you back,” he says.
Say the word…
“I hate that I’m nervous about this,” I tell him. “I hate feeling less than in full control.”
“Nerves aren’t always the enemy,” says Danny. “Sometimes you should trust them.”
“Do you want me to back out?” When in doubt, make it the other person’s problem.
Danny grins. “You forget, I’m a Durant. Powerplay tactics like that will never work on me. This is your choice. And whatever you choose, I’ll respect it.”
Damn it. Okay, breathe, Frankie. You only need to take one step at a time. Focus on the first one and go from there.
I grab Danny’s arm. “Let’s go dancing.”
The workshop is where Cam makes barrels but I do my best not to think about that. There’s an area in the far corner that’s room enough for some simple first moves. Danny sets up his Bluetooth speaker, and I play the old standard In The Mood , just to, you know, set the mood.
“That’s a heck of a pace,” he says, looking wary.
“Don’t panic,” I say. “We won’t try to dance to it yet. I’ll teach you a basic rock step, and then we can try a side pass and tuck turn. I’ll keep count. Slowly.”
Lindy Hop is an African American jazz dance related to swing and jive, and it’s fast and athletic. When I first started learning it four years ago, I thought I’d never master it. But my dance group was super supportive, often literally, catching me as I tripped, so I kept it up. It helped that they’re also a bunch of eccentric weirdos, and of all ages and stages of life. All sizes and shapes, too, so I never felt out of place like I might have done if I’d taken up tango or ballroom. Sure, not every partner is strong enough to hoist me into the air but there are so many moves to choose from that no one cares. It’s fun. It keeps me fit. It suits my style.
I tell Danny all the above in between keeping time and teaching him moves. He’s only partly listening. The competitive Durant spirit has been awakened and is determined to conquer. His focus is intense and his coordination excellent. He has a natural dancer’s ability to move the top and lower halves of his body independently. Might surprise people, but I have it too. By the end of the hour, we’re dancing a pretty capable six-count circle. Still a little stiff, sure, but not bad. Not bad at all.
And I was concentrating so hard, I barely noticed the physical connection with Danny. It was pretty tame, mainly holding hands, occasionally in each other’s arms as we practiced the turns. Now, we’re both sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the workshop floor, resting our backs against the wooden wall, out of breath and laughing.
“You know what?” says Danny. “We could tick this off as task complete. Unless you have some Dirty Dancing type contest in mind for us to enter?”
“No way I’m getting in a lake with you,” I say. “I like activities that keep me warm.”
The silence where we both realize what I’ve said is long and highly charged. I guess, given all the opportunities to back out that Danny’s offered me, I’d better be the one who breaks it. I took the first step, and now it’s time to decide whether or not to go to step two.
“I’ve been having fun,” I say to him. “And you know what? I’m not ready to stop.”