I danced through five songs, until I was actually sweaty. If I kept this up, I could sleep through my Sunday workout. I left Lauren rocking out with Angus and went to beg the bartender for some water. Since he was young and cute, a little flirting had him slipping me a bottle, on the house. Even better, since I’d only wanted ice water from the tap.
Max was propped up against the bar, watching Lauren. I sighed at him.
“You’re not even trying. Get out there.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re a great dancer.”
“You’re not?”
“Hardly. I can do the white-boy shuffle. And just look at Angus.”
It was impressive, no joke. Since he was so tall and slim, the sorts of things he could do with hips and arms and legs should not work, should not be so amazingly graceful. Just then, he was spinning, completely throwing himself into the song. I’d seen a clip of Tom Hiddleston dancing once, and while he was impressive, Angus was better.
“You realize he’s not your rival, right?”
“I know.”
“First slow dance, you get out there and ask her. Promise?”
Max knocked back his shot. “Fine. I can probably manage that.”
I chugged my water as another good song came on. So I grabbed his hand. “Don’t be self-conscious. I’m going to teach you some moves. Nothing fancy.”
He watched me for a few seconds then shook his head. “My pelvis only moves that way under one circumstance. This isn’t it.”
“Okay, maybe that’s not for you. How about this?” I showed him a one-two back-and-forth step that was a little better than the can’t dance shuffle he’d mentioned.
Wearing a martyred expression, he tried until he could execute it, but it was obvious he’d never love dancing like Angus, Lauren and I did.
A few minutes later, Lauren danced up, studying his moves. “Excuse me, but who’s the better dancer? Shouldn’t I be teaching him?”
I decided to tease. “Technically, Angus is the best.”
Max didn’t seem to mind the idea of private lessons. “He’s too busy.”
Suppressing the urge to hug him, I said, “You’re definitely above my pay grade, LB. Feel free to take over.”
At that, Max shot me a look that was a strange mix of terror and delight, but I didn’t save him. By this point, Angus was dancing with a cute guy. He looked young, but I didn’t spot the blue wristband. So he’s probably in college, at least. It might be just what he needed, to hook up with someone else. Maybe if he evened the score, he’d feel like forgiving Josh. Or maybe he’d realize it was time to fish or cut line. Either way, Angus needed some movement in his life.
So do I.
With my roomies paired off, it was hard not to think of Ty, hard not to imagine him sitting on the red couch, probably wrapped up in the chenille throw. Sam would be in bed by now, after five or six stories. Most days, I kept my feelings boxed up, and I didn’t let an impossible love ruin the rest of my life. Right then, it was tough.
The ache tightened my throat as a guy circled toward me on the dance floor. He was tall, and he danced pretty well. He jerked his head toward the bar, the silent equivalent to Buy you a drink? Shaking my head, I kept dancing, and he turned away.
Since I loved Ty, I refused to use someone else as a substitute. Once I accepted it was impossible and put him behind me, things would be different. I just needed some time. Right?
CHAPTER TWELVE
A week and a half later, my cell phone rang. I was almost home and I started to leave it until I parked, but when I noticed Ty’s picture, I picked up. “Hey, how are you?”
“Not great. I have to go back to work.”
“But you just picked Sam up.”
“I know. But if I don’t fix this mess, I could lose my job. If they don’t break ground tomorrow on-site, as scheduled, Bill will have my ass. My parents are busy tonight, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency, but can you—”
“Sure, I’ll watch Sam. I’m pulling in now. I’ll be at your door in two minutes.” I parked in my usual spot, grabbed my backpack from the floor beside me and raced to his apartment. Ty had the door open by the time I knocked, so obviously freaked that I fought the urge to hug him.
“I appreciate this so much. He hasn’t had dinner and—”
“Relax, Ty. We’ve got this, right, buddy?”
“My name is Sam!” Then he low-fived me. “It’s okay, Dad.”
Ty paused at the door, studying the two of us, as I took my jacket off and hung it on the coatrack in the corner. Then a half smile stole across his face as I knelt to hug Sam and whisper a fresh dinosaur joke in his ear. He giggled and waved as his dad slipped out.
“So what’s your favorite thing to eat?” I asked, peering in the cupboard.
“Chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, pizza, hot dogs and orange Jell-O.”
“I’m not making all of that. We’d get sick.”
“Mac and cheese with hot dogs in it,” he tried.
Folding my arms, I offered my best let’s negotiate look. Possibly, I was overestimating Sam’s ability to read subtext. “I could be persuaded, if you eat some vegetables.”
A tiny frown pinched his brows together, so cute. “But they taste like evil.”
“And how would you know what evil tastes like?” It was all I could do not to laugh, which would ruin the serious tone of our discussion.
“Because I ate vegetables before.” That was such a reasonable and ironclad argument that I couldn’t shake it.
Still, I’d be a terrible babysitter if I agreed he could live on mac and cheese with hot dog pieces. “Well, that’s the deal, take it or leave it.”
“Will you put extra cheese in the macaroni?” Sam was being cagey.
I grinned at him. “Obviously. Two slices of American, extra gooey when it melts.”
“Okay.” He shook hands with me to seal the agreement.
Poking through the cabinets didn’t reveal many vegetables. I found a can of corn, peas and carrots, some frozen mixed veggies and half a pack of broccoli. So I lined it all up and showed Sam his choices.
“Which one of these do you like best?”
“Broccoli,” he said with the saddest face ever.
I gathered from his look that all veggies were some level of evil, and broccoli was just the least demonic in the gospel according to Sam. “That’s a very mature choice.”