Chapter 10
Dakota
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I attempted to slam the slow-closing door behind me as I fumed like a furnace ready to blow. Tiny beads of sweat speckled my forehead with the combination of rage and unwanted desire that continued to wreak havoc throughout my body.
“I know, right? He’s fucking hot.” Tiffany didn’t spare even a glance at me while she casually scrolled through her phone from behind the front desk, elbows propped on the counter as she awaited my return. “Oh, I wonder if he’s single… You two would—”
“What the fuck was in that shake, and how much did you drink, because what part of ‘he’s the owner of a dance studio’ still isn’t sinking in?” Although she was right… he was fucking hot… and a great lay… Jesus Christ… “There is no way in hell that I would even consider—”
“Oh god, lighten the fuck up, D. Ya know, you’d think that after being railed last night you’d be in a far better mood.
” My sister mocked me with an exaggerated eye roll, clearly annoyed with my current state of mind.
“What? Did my selection not satisfy my big sister enough? Because from the look on your face when we left, you were just dying to go back for seconds… and thirds.” She paused for a reaction I refused to give.
I did want him… I still wanted him. “Pretty sure you would’ve let him take you home if you weren’t so fucking stubborn.
” Her tone shifted to one of accusation, scolding me for something I didn’t do; that I should’ve done.
I didn’t respond. We were always in each other’s business, so her reaction shouldn’t have surprised me.
At my extended silence, Tiffany stepped out from behind the desk, her hands firmly pressing onto her hips as she inspected me closely. Eyes scanning me for a weak point while mine wandered, distracted and unable to meet hers; my posture far from the confident boss bitch of self-respect and dignity.
She was the only person in my life that I could never truly deceive. My sister always saw straight through my bullshit and lies. I don’t know why I even bothered trying. She always managed to get the truth out of me, somehow, even if it took months… years—she’d find a way.
Tiffany’s gaze softened with a long sigh, her shoulders slumping to mirror mine as she understood what I wasn’t saying—the fear I had of losing everything I’d built.
It wasn’t about him; it was about the studio.
“Ugh… I’m sorry, D… That was harsh and uncalled for…
I wasn’t—” Her sentence broke as she rolled her lips together, carefully rethinking her words through a heavy sigh.
“It’s none of my business.” She raised both hands in deference before grabbing her keys off the counter and nodding toward one of the studio rooms. Sundays were reserved for private lessons and working on new choreography.
“I’ll leave you to it. But don’t let that hot owner psyche you out.
Your customers are loyal to you; they wouldn’t risk going elsewhere.
” Her eyes pointed to the trophy display along the far wall of the lobby.
“Those speak volumes to your success. Own it, as you always do, D, and watch that short fuse of yours… It’s going to get you into trouble one of these days.
” Tiffany gave my shoulder a light squeeze as she passed me to leave, her lips curling into a soft smile of calming support.
“Oh, and for the record… You can have your cake and eat it too. Just saying. No judgment here.”
Maybe I was overreacting…
Time moved faster than usual, and with my mind focused on work rather than the asshole across the street, I’d peaked in the productivity department, still thinking about what my sister had said before she left. Those small words of wisdom and encouragement to keep pushing forward.
With the sun just having set, I hit send on my last email, notifying all students and clients of what to expect in the coming week, then dimmed the lobby lights and headed into one of the empty studio rooms.
I was tired and sore from an afternoon spent on repetitive movement, creating a new routine for one of my competitive acro performers.
Every muscle in my body was screaming for rest, but even then, I had one more dance left in me before heading home and diving under the covers.
One more moment to remind myself of who I was.
After pressing play on the stereo, I crossed to the center of the room, closing my eyes as “Express” by Christina Aguilera filled the space, and I let the song guide my sixth sense in an unrehearsed, freestyle routine—something I rarely did unless it was to blow off steam and to just… be.
Toward the end of the song, I dropped to my knees before falling forward onto my palms, flipping my hair back, arching it into an extension as I pressed them firmly onto the floor.
With my chest lifted, I tilted my hips, pushing my ass out before gliding my knees out from under me, sinking into a low straddle.
I lightly bounced a couple of times to feel the stretch in my inner thighs, then slid my feet outward, extending my legs into a side split, before bringing them back in and shifting to stand.
When the music faded out, I took a deep inhale and collapsed my torso forward with a cleansing exhale, arms and head hanging toward the floor, relaxing while I caught my breath and let go of all my problems—
“I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here—” The sound of his warm voice startled me, causing my lungs to seize and tighten against my ribs. I snapped up my gaze, catching his reflection in the mirror. God fucking help me…
Composing myself before standing tall, I spun on my heel to face the last person I ever wanted to see inside my sanctuary. Be cool… remain calm… Because, of course, I’d end my day being confronted by none other than him. The one man I ultimately needed to avoid.
“You.” The same response I had before when I figured out who he was, only this time the word was laced with malice versus sudden surprise. “How long have you been standing there? And who the fuck gave you the right to let yourself in?”
“Long enough to enjoy the show, and the same woman who let herself into my studio this morning.” Proud, cocky, arrogant; infuriating…
“The door was unlocked—”
“So was yours.”
“I—fuck…” Goddamnit…
“As I said earlier, I’m not here to steal customers or destroy your business if that’s where this hostility stems from.”
“Then why a dance studio?” The only question I had worth asking. “Of all the businesses you could’ve graced our lovely downtown with, you had to go and choose this.” There was zero professionalism in my tone. I was angry, and he already knew it; I might as well act the way I felt. Attacked, hurt.
“Are you suggesting that a man can’t have a passion for the art?
” His response was laid-back, as if the reason should’ve been obvious from the start.
Zero malicious intent toward me and a genuine ambition to teach.
He called it an art… But even if he held good intentions, Vortex was a threat; regardless of whether those doors were opened for love of the craft or not, he was now a problem, and in more ways than just one.
“I never said that.” I rushed out defensively, crossing my arms over my chest and popping my hip to the side as I adjusted my stance.
“Didn’t have to.” His cool demeanor was something else. As if nothing phased him, even if it should. Like he was being patient with me on purpose, with intent.
A bead of sweat dripped from my brow as I continued to stare, admiring the way he lounged in the open doorway, his strong shoulder pressed against the frame; that pretty boy look with lazy gray sweatpants that sagged low on his hips, a basic black T-shirt, and a Nashville Vipers baseball cap turned backward.
At least he was wearing a shirt this time.
I briefly lowered my gaze, catching the stain my shake had left on his clothes from this morning. He didn’t even bother to change… Why?
“We can work on Broadway together. Collaborate—”
“Unlikely.” I interrupted, snapping back from my mild distraction and leveling him with a fuck you glare. “I’m not working with you on anything. Get out of my studio, Cowboy.”
“Rhylan.”
“What?” Did I hear that right?
“My name is Rhylan, or Rhy for short, whichever you prefer. But save that ‘Cowboy’ nickname for when you plan on riding me again. I kinda like the sound of it.” He caught me off-guard, offering his name like an olive branch with no intention of leaving, just lingering in my goddamn doorway as if he belonged there, and the longer he stayed, the harder it was to keep myself in check.
Fuck being a woman with an overpowering sex drive.
He’s gorgeous, I get it, and Tiffany made a point; several of them, actually. But I couldn’t stand the fact that after all these years of having Broadway to myself, I was now being forced to share it with another studio, least of all his.
“I should call you a pain in the ass, because that’s exactly what you are. I’m not giving you mine, now get the fuck out.” I was a sheet of paper being torn in two, one side curiously wanting to explore this man further, while the other warned of danger and destruction.
“You don’t have to, darlin’, but I’ll get it out of you eventually.”
“Quit calling me that. I’m not your fucking darlin’, darlin’. Nor would I want to be.” Harsh words aside, he had me questioning whether I genuinely hated him or was deflecting and pushing him away to protect more than just my business…
“Well, I was considering calling you, sugar. But you’re a little far from sweet with that bratty attitude of yours.”
“Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me? Does anything worth a damn come from that mouth of yours besides insults?”
“Why don’t you come over here, and I’ll show you exactly what can come from this mouth.” Rhylan licked his lips, his eyes devouring me as they lowered to the apex of my thighs, and my body tensed, feeling as though he were already settled between them.
“Out!” I roared until my throat burned from the strain, my skin turning flush from every onset of mixed emotion that had begun coursing through my veins.
Hate.
Want.
Despise.
Desire.
Loathe.
Need.
This man came out of nowhere, stole my breath, and now I had no fucking clue what to do with myself.
Rhylan gave a devilish smirk as he pushed off the doorway, sliding his hands into his pockets as he slowly swaggered backward through the exit.
His eyes held mine hostage for as long as they could before he disappeared around the corner, and the last thing I heard was the bell from the door as he finally left me alone.
My dark horse just had to look like that.
But I guess the joke’s on me, because I’ve already let him fuck me.