Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Eden
I had a feeling Dylan would show up here.
I’m back at Veil East. Part of the reason is my ongoing search for a witness for the Alcester case. The other part is the music and the dance floor.
Back in Buffalo, I have a regular club that I go to when I want to blow off some steam.
I can have a drink, dance, and socialize with the people I work with in a safe environment.
Dancing is fuel for my soul.
The car accident derailed my plan to earn a living dancing, but I never lost my passion for it.
Dylan tosses me a wave from the stool he’s set himself on near the bar.
I wave back, trying not to stare.
He’s wearing gray slacks and a black V-neck sweater. A few strands of his hair are brushing his forehead.
It’s ridiculous how gorgeous the man is.
He called the office earlier today to check on Kurt. He spoke to Mrs. Burton. She relayed the good news. Kurt’s surgery this morning was a success. He’ll be home early next week and back at work within the month.
I invited Noelle to come with me tonight to celebrate, but she chose sleep over dance.
I can’t blame her. I saw the weariness in her eyes when I got home from work today. Relief washed over her expression when she blurted out that her dad was awake and alert enough to ask for a cheeseburger with extra bacon.
“Red is your color.”
I turn my head to find a man next to me. He’s blond, cute, and definitely younger than me.
“You think?” I spin in a circle to show off the wrap dress I love to wear when I’m dancing.
“I know.” He flashes me a devilish grin. “You’re beautiful.”
I’m tempted to look over at Dylan, but I don’t owe him a thing.
We share a platonic past and a one-night stand.
I wasn’t his first. I know I won’t be his last.
For all I know, he’s already mid-pick-up tonight.
“I’m Hank.” The blond man in the black suit and tie offers a hand to me. “What’s your name?”
I’d ask him if it matters, but I think to him it might.
He can’t be more than twenty-four or twenty-five. He took time and care with his appearance.
His jaw is closely shaved, his hair neatly trimmed, and the cologne he’s wearing is expensive. At first glance, it would be easy to make the assumption that he works in an office tower in the heart of the city.
The callus on his thumb and the tanned skin of his nose and cheeks tell a different story.
He works hard for a living, somewhere in the sun.
“Eden,” I offer back as I slide my palm into his hand.
“As in the Garden of Eden? Are you the paradise I’ve been looking for?” he jokes. “Dance with me?”
It can’t hurt. There’s a certain comfort that comes from having the strong arms of a man wrapped around me as I move to the music.
It’s heaven if the man can keep the same rhythm as me.
Dylan can. He always could.
The first time I asked Dylan to dance I was sixteen-years-old. He picked me up from a modern dance class so I could tutor him before football practice.
The ride in his shiny red Mustang was a treat, but the dance we shared before we left the rehearsal hall was what got my pulse racing and made my knees weak.
He took me in his muscular arms. I placed a hand on his broad shoulder and shivered when his hand slid down my back.
He twirled me in circles, his blue eyes never leaving mine, as the room cleared and my infatuation bloomed into a full-on crush.
It was a crush on the boy who saw me as the coach’s daughter.
That’s all I was to him until two nights ago.
“I hope you can keep up with me,” I say to Hank.
He pulls me close, his breath skirting over my cheek. “I have no doubt that I can.”
He leads, clumsily, as the music shifts from a throbbing fast beat to a slow, smooth pace.
He spins me once toward the bar. I steal a glance, not wanting to make eye contact with Dylan.
My heart stutters for a beat when I realize that the stool he was sitting on is vacant.
He’s either left with someone or is on this dance floor, sweeping another woman off her feet, just as he did with me.
We had a moment in time that I never thought we would. It was a moment that I had dreamed of when I was a seventeen-year-old girl watching the boy she wanted walk away from her.
“Eden?” Dylan’s voice behind me drags my gaze over my shoulder.
I lock eyes with him.
He glances at Hank. “She’s with me, pal.”
“Are you?” Hank asks, disappointment edging his tone.
I look at his kind face. On another night, in another club, things might have been different.
“I requested our song next.” Dylan moves to stand next to me. “You belong in my arms for that one.”
Our song? My curiosity is strong enough to pull me away from my current dance partner.
I turn my attention back to him as couples dance past us. “It was nice meeting you, Hank.”
I smile when he drags my hand to his mouth to plant a kiss on it. “It was my pleasure, Paradise.”
When Hank turns to walk away, Dylan leans in until his lips brush against my ear. “He has no idea what paradise is. You taught me the meaning of the word two nights ago.”
I close my eyes against the rush of desire I feel.
“Dance with me, Eden,” he whispers, his hands gliding over my waist. “Let the music take you away.”
I step closer to him just as the song changes again. The track we slow danced to the other night fills the air in a pounding beat.
It’s fast, jumpy, and pulls the people around us apart as they flail their arms and bounce up and down.
Dylan tugs me against him and without any thought, we dance to our own rhythm, the same way we did when we were teenagers in the rehearsal hall.