God knows she needed it.
After the lesson, I left the music on for open dancing and circulated throughout, helping the men with two left feet and the women who loved them get more comfortable being on the dance floor. “Remember,” I said to one overzealous twenty-something with a bow tie, suspenders, and a bad habit of doing what I call the Mixmaster with his partner’s arm while she was trying to turn. “You don’t need to be fancy. Just lift that arm, lead gently with the hand on her back, and she’ll follow.”
Charlie and Krista must have slipped out during the open dancing portion of the night, because at one point I glanced over to where they’d been standing, and noticed they were gone. I exhaled, feeling both relief and disappointment. Oh well, I guess that’s that.
After the last student had left, I sent my assistant home and locked myself in. The new vinyl flooring for the downstairs room had finally arrived—paid for by a loan from dear old dad as an early Christmas gift—and this weekend was the perfect chance for me to get it down. But first I had to tear out the old wood. Nick and Lucas had started the process for me earlier today, and although they’d implored me to wait until they could come back to help, I wanted to get it done. They could help me lay the new plywood subfloor on Friday or Saturday, and I’d also need help unpacking the huge, heavy vinyl rolls.
I changed from my skirt, blouse, and heels into a tank top, leggings, and sneakers, piled my hair on top of my head, and pulled on the work gloves Nick had left for me.
Two hours later, I collapsed in a heap, leaning back against the wall. Maybe the guys had been right and I should have waited for them. Rusty nails littered the ground, the dust was enough to choke an army, and my arms were sore from breaking and yanking out the old oak 2 x 4’s. Tired and thirsty, I considered calling it a night and coming back in the morning, even though I was only about half done. But then I remembered I was scheduled to serve at the soup kitchen tomorrow before two o’clock dinner at my mother’s. I’d have to come back tomorrow night. Groaning, I’d gotten to my feet, planning to attack a few more boards when I heard pounding on the studio’s front door.
Immediately my heart jumped into my throat. Who the hell was here so late at night? I glanced at the clock over the stereo—it was after eleven. The studio was located in a strip mall of stores that were closed already, and I’d turned out the lights in the front. No one knew I was here except—
Bang bang bang!
I picked up my phone and a solid 2 x 4 before slipping into the dark hallway and tiptoeing up to the front. The door was glass, so as soon as I got close, I’d be able to see who it was if I turned on the light above the entrance. Hunching over so whoever it was wouldn’t see me first, I got behind the desk and flipped the switch. Then I peeked.
Charlie.
Heart thudding in relief and surprise, I moved around the desk, unlocked the door and opened it. Cold, wintry air rushed in with him, and the smell of Autumn Orgasm smote me once more. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
“I came to help.” He held up a white bag in one hand and a six pack of beer in the other. “And I brought you something.”
“From Ottava Via?”
“No, from a little Irish pub I like near there. Ottava Via was really crowded, and I didn’t feel like waiting around with Krista.”
My feet itched to do a little happy dance. “Did you tell her that?”
“No. I told her I was tired, and then she ran into friends on their way to The Sugar House, so she decided to hang with them tonight.”
“You lied to your date? Officer Dwyer, I’m appalled at this misconduct.”
He shrugged. “She bugs me. And I kept thinking about you here alone, working. Didn’t sit right with me, with all that’s been going on.”
“So you wanted to make sure I was safe?”
“I guess so. Yeah.”
“How nice of you.”
“I know.” He shook his head in disbelief. “What’s with that?”
I slugged him gently on the shoulder with my 2 x 4. “So what did you bring me? I’m hungry.”
“Burger and fries. Some Irish stout.”
“You’re speaking my language, Officer Dwyer. We can add burgers to the list.”
He handed me the food and beer. “Let me go grab some tools from my car so I can help you. Be right back.”
We cracked open two beers, and while I ate, Charlie got to work tearing out floorboards. He was much faster at it than I was, and had another quarter of it done within about twenty minutes. Pretty soon there was nothing but a three foot strip along the back of the room. “Take a break.” I opened another beer for him and held it out. “Come sit. Watch your head on the barre.”
He tossed his hammer into his tool box and dropped down next to me, ducking under the barre to lean back against the wall.
I watched his mouth on the lip of the bottle. “Thanks for helping me tonight. You’re much faster at this than me.”
“I can see that.” He elbowed me. “You’re welcome. How was the burger?”
“Delicious.”
He glanced down at the bag on the floor, where I’d discarded some toppings, and frowned. “You took off all the good stuff.”
“No, I didn’t. I took off the onion, lettuce, and tomato.”
“Why?”
“Because salad does not belong on top of a burger. It goes on the side.”