Chapter 8

Last week, the social dance class had been a repeat of her first night here, the geriatric set, Sara, her husband, and Tori as odd woman out. Maybe she shouldn’t come. It was fun for a bit and got her moving. But at the end she crashed into that reminder of how alone she was in this town.

At least Ali and Erin were speaking to her again. That had been strange. They’d picked right back up as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She knew she should invest in some self-care and not rely on them so much, but it was hard. Going out for nachos and margaritas was fun. It gave her a reason to dress up in the clothes she loved but couldn’t reasonably wear to work. Sustainable organic farming was incompatible with fashionista. It was hard to do one while being the other. There was no reason she couldn’t do both, just not simultaneously.

It was one of the reasons Tori thought the ballroom dancing would be good for her. She could dress up, feel pretty, and, in her imagination, dance with a handsome prince. While Charles had clearly been a looker back in his day, that was fifty or so years ago, and he only danced with Sara and ChiChi. Trey was as handsome as the rest of the DeLuca lookers, but he was married with a capital M. And even if she closed her eyes, dancing with Lucinda wasn’t much like dancing with a prince. She wore too much rosewater and muscle rub to smell like anything other than a little old lady.

“Are any of your friends going to show up tonight?” Pricilla asked.

Tori smiled and shrugged. She had no friends. “I have no idea. I did mention it. Someone might come.”

She told everyone at work. Karen had shown the enthusiasm of a turnip. Typical. But Les had asked her about it, as if he was interested. She sighed. She wasn’t going to get her hopes up. He had to close the kitchen on Chef’s night off, and with her luck, that meant Thursdays.

“Tori, let’s skip the intro lesson and jump right in with a fox trot. I think you know that one well enough,” Sara said before starting the music for the evening. “Why don’t you start with Trey?”

Tori smiled weakly as Sara basically handed off her husband. It wasn’t nearly as awkward as it had been the first night when Tori had tried to dance with him. She had the hang of a simple foxtrot now, and Trey was an excellent leader. She thought she was doing well until he stiffened and stopped, staring at something over her shoulder.

“Welcome,” Tori heard Sara say.

Trey’s eyes squinted at whomever his wife was speaking with. His arms stayed rigid, but any pretense of dancing was over.

When Tori turned to see, her heart stuck in her throat. Les and his cousins. Les wore his motorcycle jacket and still had riding gloves on. He channeled a tough biker guy image, though he was a total sweetheart. Miguel and Hank both wore flannel shirts with the top buttons secured, and Miguel wore a porkpie. This meant he was dressed up, or he’d be in a baseball cap.

Tori dropped out of Trey’s properly placed arms and scurried to the front of the dance studio. “You came!”

“We aren’t too late, are we?” Les looked from Sara to Tori.“Not at all. Let’s get you signed in. What’s your comfort level with social dancing?” Sara continued to ask questions as she led the newcomers over to the counter.

Pricilla grabbed Tori’s hand. “Now there are enough of us for everyone to have a dance partner.” She leaned in and whispered not too quietly, “Which one is your young man? Don’t want to elbow in where I’m not wanted.”

Tori smiled at the older woman. She felt a little flushed. She wanted to claim Les, but that wasn’t a reality. She shook her head. “None of them, Pricilla. They’re friends from work.”

She heard a faint “good” as Pricilla sashayed forward and asked Miguel to dance.

Sara started the music again and led Les onto the dance floor. Tori pushed down the stab of jealousy and returned to Trey. She couldn’t help but notice how distracted he was now that a young and good-looking man was dancing with his wife. So, she wasn’t the only one feeling a bit possessive.

ChiChi approached Hank. “I recognize you. You work for me, or rather my granddaughter and Ryo wines.” She held her hand out, and Hank twirled her into a competent two-step.

The miracle of the evening was that Charles rotated through dance partners. Tori found herself dancing with everyone multiple times, except the one person she really wanted.

“Where the heck did you learn how to dance?” Tori asked Miguel as he guided her smoothly across the floor.

“You sound like you can’t believe that some Mexican field worker would have the finer habits of society.” His tone indicated he was picking on her, joking, but it did reveal the possibility of unconscious bias. She stumbled over herself to respond.

“You’re not some field worker. You… And you aren’t—”

“I know. I’m a grower, not a field hand.” Miguel cut her off, repeating Penny’s often recited spiel on how she felt everyone who worked for Peaz’n’Karrit’s Farm was a grower and a nurturer of health and well-being. Miguel was the senior grower in charge of crop scheduling. “Mi abuela made sure all of us had social graces. Saturday afternoon junior cotillion. She wanted us to be presentable for our female cousins and their friends at the millions of quinceañeras we had to attend.”

Step step slide together, turn. Tori forgot about her feet and tried to wrap her brain around what it must have been like growing up surrounded by a family that had regular parties. Especially big blow-out celebrations like the quinceañeras celebrating a girl’s fifteenth birthday. In Miguel’s culture, those were a bigger deal than the typical sweet sixteen her friends had celebrated. “How many cousins do you have?”

“Too many. I mean, here I am, miles from where I grew up, and I’m still stuck with these two in the same town.”

The music ended, and Miguel offered Tori a slight bow, clearly showing off his training.

She thanked him, found her water bottle, and slid into a chair. Three extra people made the open-floor dance feel like a social event. There was no time to sit one out and catch your breath. She loved it. She would love it even more if she could get an opportunity to dance with Les. After all, there were only ten people here. She would have thought that within a single hour, she would have danced with him at least once. But no, he was always in the clutches of one of the geriatric set.

Tori stood and sauntered her way back to the edge of the dance area. The music had ended, and everyone was milling around switching partners.

“Last dance of the night,” Sara announced.

Okay, she was going to do it. She would ask Les, since he hadn’t approached her once. Tori stepped toward him. She made eye contact. He smiled. A million butterflies rioted in her stomach. Her heart pounded.

“May I have this dance?” Charles slid in front of Tori. He obscured her vision, and she could no longer see Les.

She held her breath for a mere second of a pause. “Of course.” She wiped her sweating palms down the side of her skirt before placing her hand in his.

Charles slowly walked her through the steps. Back and forth across the dance floor, they moved in a straight line as if they paced. No turns, no fancy spins. Tori focused on Charles’s ear. There were tufts of old man hairs sprouting from it. Should she tell ChiChi to shear him?

The song ended, and Tori graciously thanked him for the last dance of the evening. She turned in time to see ChiChi giving Les an enthusiastic hug. Tori’s insides cringed at the kick she gave herself. That could have been her hugging Les.

***

Les made his cousins wait on the sidewalk in front of the Barre and Tap School of Dance so he could get a chance to talk to Tori, specifically to thank her for letting him know about this place.

It had been years since he had danced. He hadn’t realized how much he missed dancing with known steps and no expectations until Tori had mentioned the open-floor night. Sure, he did the nightclub bump and grind, but this was different. This reminded him that someone out there expected him to have manners and be polite. And dancing with ChiChi reminded him of dancing with his abuela.

When she finally emerged, Tori’s cheeks were pink from exertion. It hadn’t been a taxing dance, but it had been constant. Her eyes flashed a bit brighter than normal. He should have danced with her.

“Hey, Tori.” He stopped kicking the planter in front of the studio.

She smiled, and he felt it somewhere in his gut. “Oh, hi Les.” She sounded surprised.

“I hope you don’t mind that me and mi primos came tonight.” Les twisted to point at Miguel and Hank as they leaned against the front of the building.

“No, why would I?” she asked.

Les shrugged. “People can be weird about things they do. You know, territorial.”

Tori scoffed. “Oh I know all about that. I wouldn’t have said you should come if that’s how I felt. I’m glad all of you gave it a chance.” She leaned around Les to talk to the other men. “It certainly made things more lively.”

“I had a good time. I don’t know about these two.” Les rolled his eyes in the direction of his cousins.

“If you don’t mind dancing with old ladies,” Hank grumbled.

“Shut up, we had a good time,” Miguel chimed in.

Tori giggled, and Les really wished he had danced with her. She would have been fun. “You have a ride home? I didn’t see your freakishly small car in the back lot.”

At that moment Pricilla and Lucinda came out the front door, arms linked. They paused their conversation, looked at Tori, and slid their gazes to the men loitering outside.

“You okay, honey?” Pricilla asked her. Even thought they had all spent an enjoyable evening dancing, the older women were clearly watching out for Tori.

“Fine, I’m just headed home.”

Les didn’t want the older women to think of him and his cousins as creeps. Ladies who reminded him of his grandmother were women he wanted to be on the good side of. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to Tori. I was just asking if she had a safe ride home.”

“I can give you a lift,” Lucinda offered.

Les wasn’t certain, but he thought he saw Tori wince.

“I’m walking. It’s only a few blocks.” Tori said.

“I’ll see that she gets home safe. Okay if I walk with you?” Les asked.

“We’ll all go,” Miguel said pushing back off the wall.

Hank grumbled some more.

Lucinda and Pricilla protested, so Les explained quickly.

“Tori is my very valuable supplier of lavender, and Miguel works with her at Peaz’n’Karrit’s Farm. We’ll make sure nothing happens.”

“Sounds like I have an escort brigade.” Tori laughed.

“Swing by the shop in the morning, won’t you, dear?” Pricilla asked.

Les smiled. Yep, the abuelitas were watching out for Tori. He would not disappoint them. “Why don’t you give Tori your phone number, so she can call to let you know she’s gotten home safe and sound?”

“That’s a smart idea, Les. Why hadn’t we thought of that before?” Lucinda asked.

Because you’d never left Tori alone with three men before, and you’re being smart. I know we are the good guys, but you don’t. Les cleared his throat as he watched the women exchange numbers.

“Shall we?” Tori glanced up at him once she was finished.

Les shoved his hands into his pockets and tilted his head with a nod to get his primos moving.

Hank complained. Hank complained even louder after walking a block.

“Dude, why don’t you go get your car and meet us at…” Les cocked an eyebrow at Tori. “Closest intersection?”

“Have him pull up to the row of shops across from the rose garden just off Adam Street. That’s not too far,” she suggested.

Miguel pushed on Hank to redirect him. “I’ll go with this one and meet you there.”

Suddenly Les was alone with Tori. This wasn’t a new situation, but the suspicion of the grannies weighed on his shoulders. If he ditched her now, he would be a loser. If he said something that made Tori uncomfortable, he would be a predator.

“I had a good time tonight.” When had he become so awkward?

“I don’t think Hank particularly enjoyed it.”

“He doesn’t particularly enjoy anything.”

Tori laughed. “Thanks for saving me from having to ride with Lucinda. I’ve seen her careen through town in that oversized Caddie of hers. And it seems silly when I’m three blocks away.”

So she had flinched at Lucinda’s offer. “They’re just looking out for you. I don’t blame them. Mi primos don’t present the most trustworthy of façades, and…” Les looked down at his clothing. “I guess I don’t really either.”

“Well, this is me,” Tori announced as they turned the corner to the back of the shops across from the rose garden. Just as she had said.

“You’re right. This wasn’t very far at all.” He pointed above them the ironwork staircase. “Up there?”

“I’m the last apartment on the end. I’ll be sure to text Pricilla the second I’m inside. Don’t want her to think you’re some kind of stalker.”

Les watched as she climbed the stairs. His brain tried to say one thing, but all he could think was boom chakka boom as her backside moved. He fumbled over his words and then tried again. “Yeah, she definitely seemed to have… uh. Yeah. She wanted to make sure we weren’t going to jump you or something.”

“I find it nice that someone is watching out for me, even if it is unwarranted. Good night, Les.” She waved and disappeared behind her front door.

He was going to have visions of that butt climbing the stairs in his head all night long. He smiled, realizing that wasn’t so bad. He hoped it was a long night.