"I see." Finn's voice is carefully neutral, but I don't miss the side-eye he gives me. "And I'm assuming Darcy has graciously volunteered me as a student?"
"Absolutely." I don't bother hiding my satisfaction. "Men’s tango. A full two-hour class. The perfect start to your weekend of service."
The look he gives me is equal parts respect and challenge. "Well, I do pride myself on being adaptable."
Before he can say more, a deep voice booms from across the room. "Jules! Is this our fresh meat?"
Ernie Howard strides toward us, all six-foot-four and two hundred eighty pounds of former football glory. At sixty-two, he's still built like the defensive tackle he once was, with a salt-and-pepper crew cut and hands the size of dinner plates.
"Ernie, this is Finn Bardot," Jules says. "He'll be your partner today."
Finn extends his hand, recovering his composure admirably. "Nice to meet you."
Ernie pumps Finn’s hand in a shake that looks bone-crushing. "Hope you've got solid core strength, son. Following takes more muscle than most men expect."
"I scale cliffs before breakfast," Finn says, returning the grip. "I think I’ve got this, Ernie."
Every man in the room laughs. Not with him. Definitely at him.
"That's what they all say." Ernie claps Finn's shoulder hard enough to make him step forward. "Let's see how that billionaire balance holds up when you're doing backwards ochos."
To his credit, Finn meets the challenge with a smile. "Backward what now?"
Jules claps her hands. "Everyone, take your positions! Finn, you'll be with Ernie since he's our most experienced leader."
Finn glances at me, and I can't help my satisfied smile. "Enjoying your community service so far?"
"Immensely," he says, but the twitch in his jaw says otherwise.
I find a spot against the wall as Jules queues up the music, a modern tango with a driving beat. The men pair up, with Ernie practically engulfing Finn in proper dance frame.
"Remember," Jules calls out, "surrender control while maintaining your strength. It's the ultimate test of confidence."
The first few minutes are everything I hoped for. Finn struggles with the basic steps, his natural athleticism at warwith having to move backward. Ernie doesn't make it easy, his leading style more commanding than subtle. Whenever Finn tries to anticipate a step, Ernie deliberately changes direction, sending him stumbling.
"You're thinking too much," Ernie barks. "Feel it through the frame!"
"I am feeling it," Finn counters. "Mostly, I’m feeling your fingers digging into my shoulder blade."
The other dancers chuckle as they work through their own steps. One couple pauses to watch Ernie spin Finn in a tight turn that leaves him momentarily disoriented.
I should be enjoying this more. Should be savoring Finn Bardot's discomfort as he struggles with following. Instead I'm noticing how quickly he adapts. How each stumble lasts only a fraction of a second before he finds his footing again. How determination replaces frustration on his face.
Twenty minutes in, the fight goes out of him, and not in the way I'd hoped. Finn stops battling the steps and actually starts following. His natural grace emerges as he relaxes into the role. By the time Jules calls for a water break, he's matching Ernie step for step, even adding subtle flourishes to basic movements.
"Not bad, city boy," Ernie concedes, releasing him from dance frame. "You've got decent balance. Good internal rhythm."
Finn rolls his shoulders. "Thanks. Though I think you've permanently rearranged my spine."
This draws genuine laughter from the group. As they break for water, Finn heads toward me, a light sheen of sweat making that henley cling to his chest in ways I refuse to notice.
"Having fun yet?" I ask, folding my arms.
"You know," he says, accepting a water bottle from Jules, "this wasn't exactly what I was expecting for my punishment."
I arch a brow. "Disappointed?"
"Surprised." He takes a long drink. "I'm guessing you had something more humiliating in mind than me actually enjoying myself."
