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“Okay, very good everyone! Ladies move to the next gentleman.”
Her eyes narrowed as Leslie, one of the older women in the class, stepped up to dance with Adam. Leslie was sweet, but she was also terrible at following any kind of lead, except when she was dancing with the instructors. And yet, as the older woman chattered up at Adam, Angel could tell she was following his lead. Which meant it was particularly strong.
Like most ballroom dance classes there were more women than men enrolled, so Angel was dancing the man’s part, which meant she didn’t get to dance with Adam and she couldn’t watch him the entire time, but from what she could see, this was not his first class. She didn’t know whether to be impressed he knew how to dance or annoyed he hadn’t told her. Show-off.
But that didn’t stop his smile from flickering every time she looked at him.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her parents come in and check out the class. She’d given them the heads up that she was bringing her boyfriend by.
Since they were familiar with everyone else in the class, they picked him out immediately. Her dad sat down on one of the benches along the outside of the room to watch her teach while her mom started chatting with a couple who had finished a private class with one of the instructors. Even though it didn’t look like her mom was paying attention, Angel knew nothing escaped that woman’s notice.
Adam
By the time the class finished, Adam’s neck felt almost itchy from all the prickling. He’d seen Angel’s parents come into the room—at least he assumed they were her parents because she faintly resembled both of them—and ever since then he had a creepy-crawly feeling of being watched. Her father was a lot more obvious about it than her mother was, but he could feel it coming from both directions. It was a little bit distracting, although overall he was pleased about how he’d acquitted himself.
Years ago, he’d taken some classes in waltz with Brooke. They hadn’t gotten very far but he’d used it on other occasions as well and he’d always focused on making what he did know look good rather than trying to stomp his way through a bunch of fancy steps.
“You should come to class more often,” the woman he’d been dancing with said. She patted him on the arm. “You’re a good boy.”
Adam managed to stifle his laugh. “Thank you, I might.”
His gaze flicked over to Angel, who was showing one of the men part of the sequence she’d taught during the class, and the woman’s smile broadened. Giving his arm a final pat, she walked over to the closet where everyone’s coats were hanging, then sat down on one of the available benches to change her shoes.
“You’ve danced before?” The question had him turning to face the older man who had appeared beside him. It took all of Adam’s self-control not to jump, he hadn’t heard any movement next to him.
Bright hazel eyes studied him alertly, flecked with brighter speckles of gold that harkened to the unusual shade of Angel’s irises. “Mr. Jones, I presume? I’m Adam Rawn.”
He held out his hand, which got a very brief shake as the shorter man peered up at him. The very briefness of the handshake didn’t give him much of an impression. If he’d met Mr. Jones in the business world he would have assumed the other man wasn’t interested in what Adam had to say, but that completely contradicted the way the man was looking at him.
“She must like you, if she brought you here,” Mr. Jones said. He slid his hands into his pocket, seemingly waiting on a response from Adam.
“Ah... I certainly hope she does.”
“So, you’ve danced before?”
Adam was starting to understand where Angel got her occasionally abrupt turns of conversation from, although with her father it was obviously habitual rather than occasional.
“A little bit.”
“You’re very smooth. Do you foxtrot?”
“No, just waltz and a little bit of swing.” Despite the haphazardness of the questions, Mr. Jones’ eyes were very sharp as he studied Adam, not at all put off by Adam towering over him. When Angel’s hand suddenly slid into his, Adam gave it a quick squeeze, feeling faintly relieved, despite the fact that he’d never been nervous about meeting parents. Mr. Jones’ conversational style was a bit rattling.
“Hi Daddy, did you like the class?”
“It was very good. Mr. Rawn has danced before.” It was said almost accusingly. Adam saw Angel’s lips twitch.
“Yes, I noticed that as well,” she said, turning her head to look up at him. “He didn’t mention it before we came here.”
“I wasn’t sure how much I remembered,” he said. “It’s been years.”
“Dancing is all muscle memory,” Mr. Jones said sternly. “Do you like camping?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Good.” The older man started to turn and then stopped, eyeing Adam again. “It was nice to meet you. Have a good afternoon, Angel.”
“You too, Sir.”
