7. Chapter 7
Daria
There’s no telling what I’m walking into as I enter Pops’ care center; all I know is that Dane sounded serious on the phone when he asked for my help. He must be desperate if he reached out to me after how things went the other night.
I was pretty rough on him. Not that he didn’t deserve it, I fully believe that he did, but… still. It’s no secret that I can be a little prickly, especially when my emotions are running high. Jamie bought me a cactus for my birthday as a joke last year, but really, she’s not wrong.
I sort of am like a cactus. Get too close, you might get poked. Or worse, get a spine stuck in your finger. Even my smooth edges aren’t all that smooth.
Following the directions the lady at the front desk gives me, I round the corner and step into what appears to be the community room. And stop dead in my tracks.
Etta James croons from a stereo in the corner while Dane leads an elderly lady with grayish purple hair in what appears to be a waltz. Pops is doing the same with a tiny lady with white hair. Dane’s calling out the numbered steps for both couples to follow, as if he’s some sort of dance instructor.
Maybe he is. It’s not like I’d know.
He hasn’t seen me yet, giving me the perfect excuse to watch him a moment longer.
“Now, twirl,” he calls, spinning his enamored partner gently in a circle. “And bring her back.” He pulls the woman in and lays a hand on the side of her waist once more. “You’re doing amazing, Lettie.” To Pops and his partner, he says, “You too, Pops and Edith.”
I have to admit, this scene is pretty stinkin’ adorable.
Just as the thought crosses my mind, Dane’s eyes lock with mine and he falters, throwing off little old Lettie. She huffs and drops his hands.
“Uh, hey.” He jerks his chin toward the bags in my arms. “Thanks for bringing the rest of the supplies.”
I hold both bags up in the air. “Sure. Ready to get started when you are.”
He politely excuses himself from the dance and turns off the old stereo. As if oblivious to the absence of music, Pops and Edith continue to sway back and forth.
“Impromptu dance lesson?” I ask as I set the bags down onto a nearby table. Lettie eyes me like I’m competition while Dane helps her into a chair and clears his throat.
“Yeah, I guess. Pops and I got talking about the reception and he mentioned how he hasn’t danced in years. Thought maybe I’d give him a bit of a refresher.”
My heart swells a little at his tenderness, but I tamp that sucker down before it gets out of control. “I see.” It’s then I notice the sad little balloons scattered across the floor that would be useless for an arch.
“I guess we’d better get blowing up balloons,” I say, knowing this thing won’t put itself together.
Dane pulls out the extra bags of balloons I bought and begins to tear them open. “I appreciate your help. Hope I didn’t interrupt your plans for the evening.”
“You didn’t. I just came from Theo's. Jamie needed help with the pew bows. She couldn’t tie an arrangement together properly to save her life.” I release a chuckle. We quickly found out that decorating isn't one of Jamie's skills.
Dane hands me a bag of balloons. “Well, let’s hope you’re as skilled at tying balloons as you are with bows.” A smile tugs at his lips.
“I guess we’ll see.”
For the next thirty minutes, Dane and I sit across from each other on a turquoise couch that has to be from 1993 and blow up balloons with the pumps I bought while Pops ties them.
It’s the one task he’s able to do where he doesn’t seem to get sidetracked.
His two female companions sit and watch while we work, making me think they only came for moral support.
And it’s impossible not to notice the way Lettie sizes up Dane like he’s a juicy steak.
I mean, I get the appeal, but rein it in, little lady. He’s like, fifty years younger than you.
“I just love a man in uniform,” Lettie says on a sigh.
I lift my gaze to Dane, who I can tell is trying not to smile.
I mouth, “You’re not wearing a uniform.” Unless jeans and an army green tee mean something different to an eighty-year-old.
I’m thankful my back is to Lettie so she can’t see my silent scrutiny.
I’ve been told a time or two that I have a hard time keeping my thoughts from playing across my features.
“My late husband was in the Navy, you know,” she continues. “And he never missed an opportunity to wear his uniform for me. He knew how much I liked his dress blues. Gave me a hankerin’ to do the backseat bingo.”
At that, Dane sputters a laugh, then masks it with a cough. I meet his eyes and mouth, “ Backseat bingo ?”
He hides his face in his shoulder while he shakes in silent laughter.
“Oh, those were good times, Edy.” Lettie giggles. “I tell you, that man was the bee’s knees.”
This time I bite my lip to keep my own laughter in check.
“Well,” Dane says, schooling his features as he hops to his feet. “I think we’ve got enough to start assembling the arch.” He’s probably right. It looks as if we’ve blown up about fifty balloons, all varying in sizes.
I stand and toss the empty bags into a nearby trash can. “You can work on getting the frame set up while I start tying the balloons together. I left the rest of the supplies in my car, but I’ll go and grab them.” I start toward the door, but Dane stops me.
“Let me. Is it locked?”
I hesitate. It is locked, meaning I’d need to hand him my keys. And that feels…weird for some reason.
“It’s okay, I can get them.”
He holds his hands up and backs away, clearly unwilling to argue. My heart instantly sags. Why? Who knows.
I head out to my car to grab the rest of the items and do my best not to analyze why it made me sad that Dane didn’t want to fight to run out to my car for me. Am I that needy of a person that I’d hoped he’d force his help on me? Or do I secretly enjoy getting the opportunity to argue with him?
I curse under my breath and head back inside, willing my brain to remember the reasons why we dislike Dane and shouldn’t care about wanting his attention—negative or otherwise.
When I make it back to the community room, Pops and his companions are nowhere in sight. But Dane has part of the frame up, just like I asked him to do.
“Where are your sidekicks?”
Dane smiles as he reaches for the square plywood under my arms. “They had dinner to get to. Pops tried to stay and help, but I insisted he go. He’s frail enough as it is; can’t have him missing a meal.”
Again, my heart threatens to swell at his thoughtfulness. Stupid involuntary organ.
“That’s too bad,” I say. “I’ll miss Lettie’s enlightening commentary. She’s clearly a big fan of your… uniform .”
Dane chuckles. “I happen to enjoy listening to Lettie go on about my attributes. A guy can only take so many jabs before he starts to question his worth.” His eyes meet mine. Then, like a sassy and suave gentleman, he winks.
WINKS. Like the ridiculous flirt he is.
“She wasn’t complimenting your attributes so much as your physique,” I say flippantly. “A person is more than what they look like on the outside.”
I purposely don’t look at Dane when I say it, but out of the corner of my eye, I notice him straighten. “That’s true. But what guy doesn’t like to be told he’s got it going on in the looks department?”
At that, I laugh. Probably a little too loud. “The looks department ? You sound like an old man right now. Have you been taking pointers from Pops?”
“Hey, Pops might be considered old, but he’s got it going on too. Did you see that thick head of hair he’s got? I can only hope to look that good at his age.”
I can’t keep from laughing at how right he is. “He does have some nice, thick locks.”
“I probably don’t have anything to worry about, though,” Dane says, lowering his voice. “You know, since I’m so… yummy .”
My cheeks flame at the descriptor I once used for him repeated back to me. Why did I have to call him that? Why couldn’t he have forgotten? I can’t even bring myself to look at him, let alone respond.
“So what about you?” he asks. “What do you like to be complimented on?” His voice doesn’t hold the humor it had before, but I still don’t like the question.
Because why does he want to know? To torment me with compliments that will get him nowhere? Or to tease me about the things I find meaningful?
Silence stretches between us with only the sound of Dane duct-taping the pipes together while I consider how to respond. I could not say anything at all. I have that right.
Or I could answer honestly and see what he does with the information I give him. The latter would be a sure tell of his character, at least.
“I value compliments that pertain to my work,” I say, still focusing on the balloons and string in my hands.
“I put a lot of effort into my designs. And I worked even harder to get through school, so I’d know how to handle a business once I was ready to show my designs to the world.
So any time someone compliments me on my work ethic, I take it to heart. ”
I let the truth settle into the silence. Dane doesn’t say anything, just hums in acknowledgement that he heard me.
For the next thirty or so minutes, we work quietly, listening to the woman in the video tutorial explain how to properly assemble our arch. I continue stringing the balloons together, while Dane follows her instructions.
“We can’t put it all together until we get to Theo’s,” Dane says, breaking through the quiet atmosphere. “We wouldn’t be able to transport it all.”
“True,” I admit. “Why don’t we put all the balloons in my car and you transport the arch?”
Dane dips his chin. “I’d better let Pops know what’s going on. He might not remember we were doing this, but I’d feel better if he knew we left in case he does and comes looking.” He starts off toward the cafeteria while I cart the balloons to my car and stuff it full.
I don’t want to admit that Dane was actually very sweet to volunteer to help Pops and his friends make the balloon arch for Jamie and Parker. Because that would mean admitting he has a sense of compassion that I’ve already told myself he lacks.
But even that he felt the need to tell Pops we were leaving and where we were going hits me somewhere in the chest, way too near my heart. For this reason alone, I convince myself to never be alone with Dane again.
Weird things happen in my head and chest when he gets in such close proximity.