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“Um—what about your dad?”
“Dad’s cool and all but he has no rhythm.”
I laughed out loud and added a mental note to tell him that later then tease him relentless about it.
She took my hand and I allowed her to take me into the living room where she set me to work moving the furniture out of the way while she found the right music on her father’s elaborate sound system.
I wasn’t sure how she knew how to operate the thing—I’d looked at it before and it was a maze.
“Did you dance as a little girl?” Kennedy wanted to know.
“For a while. But it wasn’t anything like this.” I replied. “I used to do something called thebata dance.”
“Bata dance?”
“It’s from Africa.” I replied.
“Could you show me sometime?”
I caressed her cheek. “Sure. But today, you’re teaching me.”
Eventually, I buckled down into learning the dance moves. They weren’t particularly complicated, but it had been years since I did any form of choreography.
Once I had a handle on the moves, Kenny stood back to ensure I had them all right then we did them together. She was laughing and not worried about almost being taken. She giggled when I mess up, correct me then had me do it again.
Honestly, I was probably having more fun than she was.
A while later, a throat cleared behind me. I wasn’t sure if it was out of habit or what, but I reached for Kenny, pushed her behind my back and swirled to face the sound.
“Jesus!” Daniel held up a hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I glared at him. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough.” He smirked.
Kennedy peered around my body before greeting her father. When she offered to help me put things back before going for a drink for us, I declined.
“Better idea.” I grinned at her. “Divide and conquer. You get drinks. I move furniture.”
“Deal!”
She bolted from the room, and I turned to look at Daniel who then helped me move things back into place.
“You dance,” he said.
“Kinda, sorta.” I flopped into the sofa. “Nothing like this. As a kid my parents had me in African dance. They didn’t want me to lose the culture.”
He arched a brow. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
I shrugged.
“So.” Daniel lowered his voice. “That little hip thing—”
“I know ways of killing a man and making it look like an accident.”
He laughed.
As I turned away from him to leave the room, I couldn’t help the smile that seemed to be glued to my lips.
