The Dance Off

Then he seemed to remember himself, and his sister, and with a nod he and his warm jacket and hot kisses walked away.

So sorry! Sam mouthed as she backed into the bar.

Nadia waved a “don’t worry” hand, before shoving it in the back pocket of her jeans so she didn’t have to see how much it shook. But Sam’s third-wheel moment was the best thing that could have happened. Nadia’d been in danger of jumping into the guy’s arms, wrapping her legs around him and not letting go.

When she could no longer see either Fitzgerald, Nadia made her way through the bar and to the bottom of the staircase.

She took one step up, the doof doof doof of the beat and the play of light at the top calling to her. But there she stopped, a finger pressed to her lips to find them swollen and tender. And she realised, for the first time in memory, she wouldn’t find what she needed up there.

Instead, she turned on her heel and headed out into the night.

* * *

“So.”

Ryder glanced in his rear-view mirror, changed down a gear as he neared a red light, and ignored Sam.

“You and Nadia, hey.”

“Sam,” he warned, when ignoring her seemed not to be working.

“Oh, come on. Anyone could see that you two have the hots for each other, even before I found you snogging on the patio.” Sam shivered for good measure, while Ryder fought the urge to stick the car in Neutral and leap out of the door.

What the hell had he been thinking? He hadn’t kissed a girl in a club in years. He knew privacy served a man better in that regard every time. And yet Nadia Kent slid under his skin and tapped right into his darkest instincts, making him forget all he knew. He ran a hand up the back of his neck and wondered how far things might have gone if they hadn’t been interrupted. Till even the damn wondering made him ache.

“She is fabulous, though, don’t you think?” asked Sam, settling deeper into the seat with a sigh.

Engaged though Sam might be, and clearly not the innocent little girl in plaits and frilly dresses she’d once been, he was not about to share with his twenty-four-year-old sister his thoughts on Nadia Kent.

Thankfully the light turned green, so Ryder could instead concentrate on grinding the gears and pressing his frustration into the accelerator. His car leapt from the starting gate with bravura and a gratifying press of backs to seats.

“And she’s been brilliant for Ben and me,” Sam continued regardless. “All this wedding stuff is stressful. We tried keeping it small but every time I look around it seems to have spread till I can’t see to the end of it any more.” Her voice trailed away with a soft sigh. “But as soon as we get to dance class it all just falls away. It’s just Ben, and me. Nadia knows how to be unobtrusive, while at the same time setting the most romantic mood.”

Nadia unobtrusive? Ryder couldn’t think of a term that described her less. Stick her in any room, and she’d be the most obvious thing in it.

“We call it Thursday Night Foreplay.”

Ryder slammed on the brakes so hard the car shuddered beneath them. He eased off, caught traction and drove the rest of the way home five kilometres under the speed limit.

When Sam didn’t say anything for a while, Ryder risked a glance sideways to find her smiling at him. Then she raised an eyebrow in question. With her big grey eyes and sweet face she might look as if she ought to be frolicking in a field of daisies, but she was his half-sister and had more than half his stubborn streak.

Gritting his teeth against an urge to tell her to mind her own damn business, he said, “She’s your friend.”

“So what? I’m a big girl. I can handle it. So don’t let that be your excuse this time.”

“This time?” he asked, then wished he’d kept his damn mouth shut.

Sam turned, gripping the seat belt. “You’re eleven years older than me, man. You should be married with three kids by now! Don’t think I don’t know it’s me who stopped you.”

Ryder shuffled on his seat, never good at this part of it all. “Don’t get yourself in a knot, kid. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”

“Sure about that?”

Ryder’s cheek twitched. Okay, so he’d been more circumspect than other men might have been. But he’d never seen it as a sacrifice. It had benefited him that the women in his life had taken his discretion as reticence for anything long term. A reticence that was entirely genuine, only for less altruistic reasons than Sam had put on him.

“I need you to know it’s never been about you,” he said, his voice steady.

“It’s about Dad,” she said with a bigger sigh. “You can’t let him rule your life. You’ve told me so enough times.”