“Only a little. It’s actually better today than last week.” Even though that’s what I’d been telling myself for weeks, I believed it this time. “Not to mention, I’ve danced with worse injuries.” Sprained ankles, broken toes, a repeatedly dislocated shoulder from performing every night with an overly-aggressive dance partner.
Nick’s expression softened. Ignoring the curious stares of stage mothers nearby, he ran a thumb over the slightly swollen crest of my foot. I was hard-pressed not to shiver because my best friend’s touch put me in mind of snuggly moments in front of a sparkling Christmas tree. “I don’t like to think of you hurt.”
I don’t like to think of you kissing somebody else.
I sucked in too little air and choked out, “I don’t like to think of you injured either, Nick.” Feeling unexpectedly tender toward him, I took his hand and examined it, knowing what I’d find. “I see the scar from the stitches where you cut off your pinkie tip. And there are burn marks here.” I touched his thumb in several places. “From a hot pan or an oven.” I touched the back of his hand. “And you’ve got cuts on your knuckles and forefinger.” From before he’d been skilled with a knife. I stared into his face, searching for vestiges of the boy who’d been my friend, hoping this feeling of fascination would pass. But I found only the strong features of the man he’d become, the man I was increasingly attracted to. “We both chose professions where there are hazards to our work.”
Nick stared at our joined hands for a moment before lifting his gaze to mine. “Pretty stupid,” he said in a husky voice that put me in mind of candlelit bedrooms.
It dawned on me that I hadn’t been on a date in a long time. It’s a good thing I was going to dinner with Bixby. Maybe he’d kiss me goodnight and I’d be able to tuck a friendship-ruining attraction with Nick back where it belonged.
“I saw you posted a Christmas card to Rudolph on the café’s bulletin board.” Nick deftly changed the subject. “What did you write?”
“Isn’t that supposed to be a secret?” After noodling it over, I’d decided on a fairly tame message:Thanks for the card. Let your heart be light.And I’d signed itPrancer, because the reindeerDancerseemed too obvious a name to take. “How long do you think it’ll be until I get another card?”
Nick leaned closer, until his face was inches away from mine. “Will you be disappointed if Rudolph never writes back?”
“Yes.” I frowned, not that I was unhappy. Nick’s lips were in kissing distance from mine. Why were we wasting time talking about…anything?
Oh, yeah. We had an audience.
The stage mothers weren’t shy in trying to catch every word. Good thing we were whispering.
And oh, yeah. I shouldn’t kiss Nick. He’s my best friend.
I inched back. Or thought I did. Nick was still closer than friendship distance.
“Here’s hoping your investigations don’t scare Rudolph away.” He touched his nose and wiggled it. “And hoping he writes you back, since you want more holiday magic.”
The holiday magic I really want is a kiss from Nick!
The door to the studio proper creaked open before I said or did anything life changing.
“Gosh, Uncle Nick. Are you gonna kiss Miss Allie? If not, Mom says it’s time for her to come in the studio and dance.”
The nearby stage mothers laughed.
My cheeks grew warm. I released Nick’s hand and put my black tap shoes on. Tutu-wearing little girls aside, Eve had told me they were practicing their tap dance tonight and their ballet the next night. “Thanks for the ride, Nick.”
“I’ll come back and pick you up later.”
“You don’t have to.” But when I looked up, he was already out the door.
I walked into the studio and closed the door behind me. It echoed with the sound of fidgety tap-shoes. A Christmas tree stood in a corner and a wreath hung above the floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the front wall.
“Do you want to follow me in the warm-up?” Eve asked. She had a Taylor Swift song playing with a slower tempo. “I’ll call it out, but you might remember it from when Miss Wendy ran the studio.”
I took my place next to Eve at the front. “I hope it comes back to me.”
It did! Of course, it helped that it was at a slow cadence. Toe drops for eight. Heel taps for eight. Toe-heel front combination for eight. Back toe tap for eight. Front-side-back toe tap for eight. Repeat-repeat-repeat. By the end of the warm-up, I was smiling. My foot wasn’t taxed at all.
The next few hours flew by. I was surrounded by enthusiastic girls who loved dancing. No one was concerned about their weight, the rent that was coming due, or who had the inside track to a spot in the chorus line. No one asked me to dance while singing in key or requested adjustments to my performance. It was heaven.
“Allie, they love you,” Eve told me at the end of the evening, handing over a spare set of keys and printed class schedule plus choreography notes and a short list of students who could be called upon to lead the class if need be.
I didn’t care that I couldn’t leave town at the drop of a dancing opportunity. I’d received more hugs tonight than I had all year. It felt good. And the very basic dance routines hadn’t aggravated my nearly-healed foot. A little elevation, a little ice, a nice tight boot in the morning, and I’d be able to pull a shift at the Sleigh Café. No problem.
“I know all the dances if you forget,” little Ivy reassured me.