More Than a Rancher

“Sounds like you’re missing out.” He winked. “Especially when you’re eating my food.”

“Missing out on stuffing myself? I don’t see it that way. Dancing takes discipline. But the fun of it is way more than the pleasure I might get from a few extra bites of food.” Jenna paused and licked some flan off her spoon, noticing how Sandro’s eyes locked on to her mouth. “No matter how incredible they might taste.”

* * *

THEY’D MADE THEIR way to the living room to sit in front of the fire with the last of the wine. Samantha and Jack were curled up on the couch, staring at the flames. Jenna sat on the rug by the hearth, petting Zeke, one of the collies. He’d snuggled up next to her the moment she sat down. She wove her fingers into the soft, thick fur around his neck and he sighed in doggy bliss.

Sandro had flopped into the armchair but only stayed a few minutes before disappearing into the kitchen. Jenna could hear the clattering of dishes. “Shouldn’t we be helping?” she asked.

Yawning, Samantha lifted her head from Jack’s shoulder. “Good luck. Sandro never lets anyone help. Maybe it’s a chef thing.”

“Any particular reason you want to lend a hand, Red?” Jack was looking over Samantha’s head at her, grinning suggestively.

“Are you thinking that I—?” Jenna stopped, glancing toward the kitchen to make sure its occupants couldn’t hear.

“Jack, stop teasing her!” Samantha sat up and elbowed her fiancé. “Give Jenna a break. She can’t help it if she’s so beautiful that men fall all over her. But seriously, Jen, if there was any more chemistry between you two at dinner, this whole house would have gone up in flames.”

“There’s no chemistry,” Jenna lied to her friend, ignoring the feelings racing through her.

Jack gave Jenna a long look. “It’s obvious even to a dumb guy like me that there’s something there. I’ve known Sandro for years and I’ve never seen him quite like that.”

“What, talking with people at dinner?”

“No,” Jack replied. “That’s pretty standard. This is different. For one thing, he kept staring at you.”

That shouldn’t have been such interesting news, but Jenna’s pulse sped up at the thought. The last thing she needed was a gorgeous, moody man who lived a couple hundred miles away from San Francisco. But despite what she’d told Samantha, the chemistry she felt with Sandro was palpable. Flirting with him was addictive and she wanted more. Jack’s next words felt like cold water.

“Look, Red. You gotta know this. Sandro’s my friend and he’s a great guy. An amazing, dedicated chef, too. And he’s fine to flirt with. But his history with women... Well, let’s just say there’s a long, long history and it’s not pretty. He doesn’t take much seriously outside of cooking. Don’t even think about getting involved with him. I’ve seen way too many women regret that decision.”

There was disappointment but not surprise. Jenna had lived in San Francisco long enough to know that good-looking single men in their thirties were usually too good to be true. Mostly, she felt something close to horror. Only a few hours had gone by since she’d vowed to take a break from dating and thus avoid cheating men, and she was already drawn to one like some pathetic moth to a lethal flame.

She sighed. “You don’t have to worry, Jack. He’s good-looking and all, but I don’t want anything new.” Jenna hoped that if she just kept saying the words, they’d be true. “I just want to keep my focus on my dancing right now.” A funny thought struck her and she smiled. “Even if I was interested, we wouldn’t cross paths. I doubt he’ll be signing up for dance lessons in San Francisco anytime soon!”

Jenna stared at the whispering flames in the fireplace, trying to force Sandro out of her mind. Think about your dance studio, she commanded herself. The one she was going to create now that her long, exhausting search for the perfect place had finally produced a result. Jenna pictured the old ballroom, forgotten at the back of the run-down social club. It was like discovering hidden treasure, complete with crystal chandeliers. It was going to be perfect, as long as no one else noticed it before she could pull her money together.

She’d been with Jeff the day she’d found it. Such a fun day and they’d celebrated afterward at a bar that only served champagne—one of those businesses that could exist in a busy city where people loved their wine. They’d tried a few different kinds and then gone back to his apartment and...

Ugh! Why was she thinking about Jeff? Any thoughts of sex with Jeff were hideous now that she knew he’d been sleeping with other women. She stood suddenly, her heart pounding with the enormity of his betrayal.

“Are you okay?” Samantha asked sleepily.

“I’m good,” she lied. “But really tired. I think I’ll just say good-night.” She was exhausted, she realized. It had been a rough week.

She said good-night and went to thank Sandro and Paul for dinner. Dirty dishes were still scattered around the dining room table and she grabbed a stack of plates as she went by. In the kitchen, Paul was packing groceries back into the cardboard box. There was no sign of Sandro.

“Paul, how come you didn’t eat with us?” Jenna asked.

“Sandro needed me to stir the sauce and do the prep for the desserts. I ate in here. It was good, though.”

“Your brother’s got talent for sure,” Jenna told him. “Do you like to cook, too?”

“Nah.” Paul grimaced. “I mean, I’m happy to help out Sandro, but I’m not really into it.”

“Me, neither,” Jenna said. “I live on takeout. Way too much, probably.” She scraped the plates into the garbage and took them to the sink to rinse them off.

“Can I ask you for a favor, Jenna?” Paul kept his voice low and looked behind him for a moment, as if making sure no one would overhear.

“Sure,” Jenna answered.

“Would you be able to tell me...?” Paul’s face reddened. “I mean, it’s probably dumb, but can you tell me if I’m any good? At dance?”

“You looked pretty good when you were copying my moves in here earlier,” Jenna teased.

“No, I mean really good, like maybe I could actually be a dancer.”

“You want to dance? Here?”

“Yeah. Please, Jenna? Who knows if I’ll ever meet a real dancer again?”

Jenna sighed as the prospect of her comfortable bed upstairs faded a little farther into the distance. “Hang on.” She left the kitchen and found her purse near the front door. She rummaged inside for her iPod. As she headed back with it, Samantha and Jack looked at her curiously. “Don’t ask,” she said. It was just too silly that she was going to dance with a teenage boy in their kitchen.

There was an iPod dock on the counter. “What kind of dance do you want to try?” she asked Paul.

“Um...salsa?” His voice was uncertain and she could tell he was getting nervous. She found one of her favorite teaching songs, where the rhythm was easy to hear, and turned the volume up slightly, trying not to disturb Samantha and Jack’s peace in the living room.

“Okay. Stand next to me. Follow my feet.” She launched into a basic salsa step.

Paul watched her for a moment and then followed her moves effortlessly. He was instantly transformed. The gangly teenager was gone. Every part of his body was working together, all the moves initiating right from his center, as they should, everything fluid, connected and reflecting the rhythm. Hips swaying, Jenna led him around the kitchen and he followed.

“Okay, now a basic step in closed.” She showed him where to put his hands. “A little more tension between us. Tighten the muscles in your arm, but don’t make them rigid. Follow my feet.” It took only a moment for him to master the basic in closed position and then he lifted his hand and spun her in a perfect open turn. She laughed in delight.

“I got that from a video.” His grin was ear-to-ear.

“I’m impressed!” It was unbelievable. Paul the baby cowboy was a natural dancer. They continued to dance in closed position. And Jenna knew for certain that this was why she’d ignored her intuition this morning. This was why she’d gotten lost in a pasture. It was because of Paul. Because Paul needed encouragement to reach his dream, and here she was, in the perfect position to provide it.

“Paul!” Sandro’s tone was harsh. Paul and Jenna froze and he stalked across the room, touching the iPod to stop the music.

“What’s wrong?” Jenna asked.

“Why are you getting his hopes up?” Sandro was making a visible effort to calm down, but his voice was still rough.

“We were just dancing. And he already has hope—he’s that good. He just needs training!”

“What he needs is none of your business.”

“Now, that’s just rude!” Jenna felt her temper rising and reminded herself that Sandro was Jack’s good friend. She forced herself to make her own voice calm but couldn’t keep from pressing him. “Why are you angry? Shouldn’t you be proud of your brother? Excited for him?” Jenna knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to get involved in the family issues of a boy she barely knew, but Paul’s love of dance, and his natural ability, struck a chord with her. She knew well what it was like to come from a family who disapproved of dancing.

When Sandro spoke this time, he didn’t sound quite so angry. “Of course I’m proud of him. But that doesn’t mean I think he should be putting his energy and time into dancing right now. He should wait until he’s eighteen to get involved in that.”