Why Don't You Stay? ... Forever (McLaughlin Brothers Book 2) Page 4

  I will melt through the floor if he keeps this up. “It’s mostly kids and seniors who go to the matinees.”

  “Meaning I’ll stand out.” Ben shrugs. “I like kids and seniors.” He glances up and meets my gaze, dismay entering his expression. “Unless you don’t want me to come.”

  “I didn’t say that.” I’d love him there. Knowing he was in the audience last night had made me feel both nervous and supported at the same time, as though his presence held me up. “I won’t stop you—I just wasn’t sure you’d enjoy it.”

  “You let me worry about that.”

  “Well, okay.”

  We study each other a few more minutes, then we both flush and continue our breakfast.

  “I was thinking we might stop by a drugstore,” Ben says after a time.

  I start coughing. I grab a napkin and plaster it to my face so I won’t spew crumbs all over the place. Once my fit is over, I lower the napkin to find Ben regarding me with amusement.

  “Why?” I ask him. “Need painkiller for your hand?”

  “I think you know why.”

  Ben’s faint smile does me in. He wants to watch me dance, and he wants to prepare for what might happen afterward.

  This is all kinds of nerve-wracking, but I’ve never been happier in my life.

  Ben

  Erin pretends to shop for other things when we visit the nearest drugstore, and we meet up again at my truck after. She doesn’t ask me what I bought, and I keep the box of condoms out of sight.

  I don’t know how my brothers do it. When I hand the box to the cashier—a plump, friendly woman in her fifties—I can’t make eye contact with her. I know she’s laughing her ass off at me as I run my card through the machine, snatch up the bag, and flee.

  Erin doesn’t say one word about my purchase. We go to her house where she has enough time to pack up all the stuff she needs. We make a quick stop at my place so I can put on fresh clothes, before we drive to the theater. Erin comes inside and admires my house, which was nothing but a square-box, generic development home before my brothers and I fixed it up. I like having her here—she makes it brighter somehow.

  I’d like to linger, but we need to hurry so she won’t be late.

  Once we arrive at the theater, Erin disappears to get into costume. To kill time before the show starts, I wander around the old-town square. It’s hot so not many people are about today, but some go into and out of the library, and others stroll around the green.

  I head back to the theater when ticket-holders start to go in. I insisted to Erin that I buy a ticket today because she treated me last night, and I didn’t take no for an answer.

  The show begins. I’m squeezed in next to a family with three little girls who watch the dancers in awe. On my other side is an older couple who murmur to each other through the start of the show, more interested in each other’s opinions than what’s happening onstage. They’re also holding hands.

  When Erin comes on, I surge forward in my seat.

  She’s as stunning as ever, her elegance enchanting, but I noticed she’s a little distracted. I remember enough from last night’s performance to see that she misses a few steps in her solo dance, and again when she’s with Dean.

  Shit, is this because of me? Erin had tried to persuade me not to come today—maybe she really doesn’t want me there.

  I hear too much sex can throw an athlete off their game. Not that I’d know—I was in the computer club while the jocks were out playing football with my brothers.

  My heart squeezes. Am I going to have to walk away from Erin, pretend our incredible night never happened, to save her career?

  No, no, no. What am I thinking? Shit like that only happens in movies.

  Then again, what do I know? I’ve had girlfriends before, but I’ve never spontaneously jumped into bed with a woman. Not that it was entirely spontaneous—I’ve been drooling after Erin since she started working in our office a month ago.

  But if I’m distracting her so much she can’t dance, what chance do we have together? I know that if Erin has to choose between dancing and me, I’ll be out in the cold so fast I won’t have time to shiver.

  I try to tell myself that Erin missing steps has nothing to do with me, but I’m scared that it does. I white-knuckle the rest of the performance. When it’s over—after the bowing, the flower giving, and the director greeting the kids from a local dance school—I head to the stage.

  The security guy from last night is there again. This time, he gives me a cordial nod and sends me right up the stairs to the wings.

  Dean spots me and hurries over. Not like he wants to greet me, but as though he’s trying to head me off. What the hell?

  A glance past Dean’s large frame tells me why he’s so worried. Just outside the hall that leads to the dressing rooms is Erin. With her is another man—a black-haired, handsome guy with enough hard muscles to tell me he’s a dancer.

  He has Erin in his arms, and as I watch, he leans down and gives her a passionate kiss on the mouth.

  Chapter Five

  Erin

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I all but yell once I finally pry Reuben off me.

  Reuben Barrow gives me his best slick smile as I wipe my mouth in disgust. I truly never wanted his saliva on me again.

  “Aren’t you happy to see me?” he has the gall to ask. “I’m back, sweetheart. I’ve signed with Clarice again. You need a decent male dancer in this company.”

  I brim with fury. Reuben is supposed to be in Milwaukee, with a dance company that begged him to join them two years ago. I wonder how many people he pissed off before they fired him. I’m certain he was fired—he’d been hot to erase the dust of Arizona from his feet, loudly saying he’d never return. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t now desperate for a job.

  “Clarice re-hired you?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. You know Clarice never wanted me to go. Neither did you, I recall. And here I am.”

  Reuben spreads his arms, his smile as cool as ever. I guess he expects me to fling myself at him, rejoicing that he’s come home.

  He’d dumped me plenty fast when the Milwaukee opportunity came along, claiming that long-distance relationships didn’t work. I’d protested at first, but when I realized he truly didn’t give a shit about me, the scales, as they say, fell from my eyes. I quit fighting the breakup, threw his things in a box, and set the box in the middle of my driveway. The box had vanished overnight, and so had Reuben.

  Today, I’d danced on to the stage to do my solo and spied Reuben in the wings on the other side, next to Clarice. What a way to throw me off my game. My performance sucked, seriously sucked, and I knew it.

  And now, worst of all, Dean is bearing down on us with Ben. Shit.

  “Reuben,” Dean booms. “You get tired of all that winter up north? I remember you proclaiming you were done with heat. Welcome back to the sun.”

  I need to extract myself from the situation. I’ll grab Ben, who has halted at Dean’s side, taking in Reuben with his assessing gaze, and run, run, run. Maybe never come back.

  Damn Reuben. I’m happy in Clarice’s dance company, but I never want to work with him again. Or even lay eyes him.

  “Wisconsin wasn’t so bad.” Reuben shrugs. “I was working all the time, so I didn’t notice the weather. It’s already too damned hot here, and it’s only May.”

  “So stay inside and work,” Dean says. “How about we have a beer and catch up?”

  Dean is wonderful. He’s trying to steer Reuben away from me, but Reuben digs in his heels. “I was thinking about catching up with Erin.”

  “Erin’s busy,” Dean tells him.

  “Doing what?”

  Ben, who is no fool, has figured out what’s going on. I haven’t told him about Reuben, but anyone can see he’s an ex. I hope I’m conveying clearly that I want nothing to do with the idiot.

  Dean’s trying, but Reuben won’t go away.

  “This is Ben,” I
say loudly. “Ben McLaughlin. He’s with me.”

  Ben moves close to my side, facing Reuben.

  Ben has height—all the McLaughlin brothers do. Ben is the shortest, but that means he’s about six foot two, compared to his six four brothers. Reuben, like many male dancers, is strong but compact. Dean’s on the tall side for a dancer, but Reuben’s about average.

  Ben towers over him. He gazes down at Reuben, and Reuben takes subtle steps backward so he doesn’t have to crick his neck to meet Ben’s eyes.

  Ben’s red-highlighted brown hair is adorably messy, his clothes casual—pants and a polo shirt. Reuben is sleek in a dress shirt and tie, his dark hair combed and gelled. I used to think Reuben was to-die-for handsome, but Ben puts him to shame.

  Reuben raises his brows. “What do you mean, with you?” He doesn’t even say hello or how are you? like a polite person.

  “She means with him,” Dean supplies. “They have a thing going on.”

  “Yes,” I say hastily. “A thing.” I hope Ben doesn’t turn around and stride off in disgust.

  Ben slides his arm around me. My heart leaps with relief and joy.

  He says nothing, but Ben doesn’t have to. There’s advantage to being the silent type. At least with Reuben, who can’t handle having to guess what people think.

  “A serious thing,” Deans continues. “We’re blown away by it. Can’t wait to see what happens next.”

  He’s laying it on a little thick, but Ben, bless him, remains rock solid. “Nice to meet you,” he tells Reuben.

  “Sure.” Reuben looks confused. He glances at Dean. “Same old gossip, aren’t you, Dean? Why don’t you go put on your fairy godmother costume?”

  Dean had worn that at a party once, as a joke. Dean beams him a big smile. “You know, you have a pretty face, Barrow. I’d hate to ruin it with my giant fist.”

  “I think it’s time to go,” Ben says. He keeps his arm around me and steers me past Dean, Reuben, and the dancers who have paused to watch the drama. “See you, Dean.” He jerks his chin. “Reuben.”

  Dean bars Reuben’s way as I walk off with Ben, though I’m not sure Reuben would have tried to follow. He does have some pride—barrels of it, actually.

  “I have to change,” I whisper to Ben.

  “No problem. Want me to guard the door?” He gives me a half smile, but I see the anger in his eyes.

  “There’s a sofa outside. Or you can take off—I can get a ride home with Ida.”

  “Not with Mr. Wonderful hanging around. I’ll take you home. What is he? Your ex?”

  My face is hot. “Bad break-up. I’ll …” We’ve reached the dressing room door. “This is me.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  I open my mouth to tell him he doesn’t have to, that I’ll understand if he high-tails it outta here.

  Ben pulls me close, hand on the back of my neck, and kisses me on the mouth. It’s a rocking kiss, and my troubles dissipate as I ride on it. Ben knows how to kiss—he takes his time, infusing me with warmth.

  I’m breathless when Ben pulls away and gives me his crooked smile.

  “I’ll be waiting,” he repeats.

  I manage a nod then edge backwards into the dressing room. It’s hard to close the door and leave him out, but I share this small dressing room with three other dancers, and I can’t let him in. The door shuts, the click of the latched drowned in the voices of the dancers chattering excitedly about today’s performance and the gathering afterward.

  Ben

  “So … Ben, is it? What do you do?”

  I figured the asshole would find me sooner or later, not difficult in the small maze of backstage halls. I lounge on the arm of the sofa Erin pointed out to me, checking my messages.

  One from my mom asking me to pick up something for the office, one from Zach saying he hasn’t heard from me all weekend, and what’s up?

  I’m answering Zach evasively when I hear Reuben’s voice, see his feet halt a yard from the sofa.

  I take my time pressing Send on Zach’s message before I raise my head. “Computer engineer.”

  “Yeah?” Reuben blinks, obviously not expecting that answer. “I didn’t think computer guys were into dance.”

  I shrug. “I’m into a lot of things.”

  “Including Erin?”

  The smirk on the smug bastard’s face annoys me. It’s a good thing I grew up with Austin, who has an ego that can bust open doors. Austin, however, is a good guy deep down. Will do anything for anyone. And he isn’t smarmy.

  Keeping up with Austin’s certainty that he’s God’s gift to women lets me survey Reuben with some detachment. He is, I guess, good-looking in a way women like, with his dark hair and symmetrical face, plus he has a dancer’s body and easy way of carrying himself.

  Too bad he’s a dickhead.

  “Not really your business,” I say mildly.

  “No?” Reuben steps nearer. “We broke up only because I had to move up north, and we knew a long-distance relationship wouldn’t work.” He’s even closer now, in my personal space. If he touches me, I’m decking him. “But now I’m home.”

  “I see that.” I’m not good with snappy comebacks so I keep my answers short and simple.

  “Erin needs someone who understands her.” Reuben takes a step back, lucky him. “Not a geek focused on his device.” He gives a flick of a hand at my phone, twisting his lip at his double-entendre.

  “Got it.”

  “Good.” Reuben gives me a once over. I remain on the sofa’s arm—I’m almost eye-to-eye with him at this height. His regards me in disdain, and I make myself not care. “I’m glad you understand,” he says.

  “Oh, I understand.” I slide my phone into my back pocket and stand up. I like the hint of worry in his eyes as I stare down at him. “I understand that Erin lives her own life and makes her own decisions about who she’s with. What you should understand is that, if you mess with Erin, you mess with me.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Reuben widens his dark eyes and draws himself up. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

  Growing up with three sports-involved brothers—I was Zach’s practice tackle dummy when he was into football—means I don’t even skip a heartbeat. I can tell Reuben’s strong, as dancers are, but I learned to fight back early in my life.

  “Yeah … Reuben, is it?”

  He drops the I’m-so-sophisticated pose and leans to me again, becoming nothing more than a pissed-off brat who sees a threat to his position in life.

  “You watch yourself,” he snarls at me. “I don’t give many people second chances.”

  Is he going to throw a punch at me right here in the hall, with dancers and theater staff wandering around us?

  Whatever would have happened, I don’t know, because Dean barrels out of a dressing room a few doors down. With the makeup wiped from his face, Dean looks human. Not as handsome as Reuben—his face is hard and bears lines of experience—but he’s bigger than Reuben, with more magnetism.

  “Come on, Reuben,” Dean says jovially but with force. “Let me buy you that drink before you get your ass kicked.”

  Reuben straightens up, annoyed at the interruption. “I don’t date guys, Dean. I’ve told you before. Many times.”

  “Like I’d go out with you.” Dean huffs a laugh. “I have taste. What I mean is the company is heading for happy hour. I’m inviting you along, giving you a chance for a graceful exit. Erin’s done with you. Get over it.”

  Reuben glowers at him. “Fuck you, Dean.”

  He turns on his heel and stalks down the hall, banging open a door at the far end. Bright sunlight flashes into the windowless corridor, then cuts off as the door slams.

  Dean gives the closed door the finger and turns back to me. “Sorry about that, Ben. You’re invited to happy hour too, now that I got rid of Reuben.”

  “Thanks.” I glance at the dressing room door through which Erin disappeared. “Not sure what Erin wants to do.”

  �
�I get it.” Dean flashes a big smile and thumps me on the shoulder. “See you there. Or not.”

  He walks away, chuckling. I rub my shoulder, thinking that if Dean ever decided to kick my ass, I’d be hard-pressed to survive.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Erin tells me as she settles into my truck, buckling her seatbelt.

  “Okay,” I answer.

  In silence, I pull out of the lot and navigate the traffic that has built up even on a Sunday afternoon. There’s a train chugging across the five-way intersection behind us, which is stopping cars in all directions.

  Erin deflates. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound harsh. It’s just that—we broke up, Reuben left, and I realized it was a good thing. I’m done with it.”

  “Okay.”

  Erin gazes at me in concern. I turn off Fifty-Ninth Avenue to get away from traffic and wind through a quiet neighborhood to emerge onto Fifty-First, a calmer way to go.

  “Okay as in we’re good?” Erin asks anxiously. “Or okay as in you never want to speak to me again?”

  I send her a look of amazement. “As in we’re good. Why wouldn’t I want to speak to you again?” Or kiss you, or have fantastic sex with you?

  My body is still on fire from being with her, and I think I’ll never calm it down.

  “I don’t want you to think less of me because I fell for Reuben,” Erin says.

  I recall how the guy acted like Erin was his property, and my anger rises—at him, not her. “It happens,” I manage to say.

  “I can’t believe now that I ever admired him. But before, Reuben was nice, actually. Supportive. In fact, he helped me get my job in Clarice’s company. But when he saw the opportunity to make it big on his own, he couldn’t leave fast enough.”

  I slant Erin a sideways glance. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.”

  Her face grows pink. “I don’t, but I want you to understand. I was excited to be dancing, to have the opportunity to be with West Valley, and I guess I was grateful to him. Kind of blinded me to Reuben’s faults. Most professional dance troupes take dancers right out of high school. I was already considered too old by many when I started searching for a dance job after college. Clarice is different—she wants skilled performers, not people she has to mold. And she hired me, thanks to Reuben.”