Page 1 of Dance With Me
Chapter One
Joe
“Do we really have to do this, Clare?” Joe finished the dregs of his coffee and turned to look at his fiancée, eyebrow raised. They were due to get married in July, and Clare had decided she wanted a special dance, so they were going to a studio in town to learn one. Why they couldn’t just do the usual shuffle, he didn’t know, but Clare wanted it to be perfect, so he’d agreed.
“Come on, Joe. You said you would do it. I know you think you have two left feet, but this will be really good. Seb is supposed to be a fantastic teacher.” Clare pouted as she rinsed her cup. Any minute now, and she’d start stamping her feet.
Truth be told, Joe was sceptical of the whole thing. He had no coordination, and the last time he could remember even getting on the dance floor was at a works’ Christmas party. That had ended with a night in A&E, a sprained ankle and a broken nose. Alcohol had been involved—lots of it. He was certain Clare wouldn’t want him drunk at the wedding, but he thought that might be the only way he’d get through it.
“He teaches Laura’s little girl, Chloe. You remember Laura? We worked together before she left to have her second baby,” she said as she put on her lip gloss. Clare was a midwife at the local hospital on the maternity ward, often working nights.
“Yeah, I remember her,” he said, nodding. Honestly, Joe couldn’t remember her at all, but it was easier just to agree. “I suppose we should get going.” He sighed and stood, stretching to his full height. His sweater rode up, and he watched as Clare’s eyes widened. Nice to know he could still affect her.
Joe was looking forward to this about as much as he would getting his balls waxed. Something Clare had suggested might spice up their love life, but all it had done was give him bollocks so itchy people had thought he had a disease.
He and Clare had been together for nearly five years and had been living together for the past two. He’d proposed three months ago, at the end of January, and Clare had decided she wanted a summer wedding. It was now the end of April, and wedding preparations were well underway.
The proposal had come after intense pressure from both sides of the family and not-so-subtle comments here and there about grandchildren. Joe had started to feel it, and rather than end the relationship, which had crossed his mind, he’d bought a ring and got down on one knee.
He’d thought it was what he wanted, but since the engagement, he’d been feeling unsettled, as if something wasn’t quite right with their relationship. He didn’t know what though, and he sure as shit didn’t know how to fix it. Upon reflection, he wasn’t sure that proposinghad beenthe right thing to do.
After the announcement, he’d felt an uneasiness that crawled under his skin and had him shivering anytime someone mentioned the wedding. Clare was exactly his type, though: petite, with silky soft red hair, green eyes and alabaster skin. Everything he would usually look for in a woman, so this change in the way he felt was baffling. He was bisexual, but it wasn’t as if he’d been lusting after men, either.
He glanced over at her as she put on her shoes and grabbed her bag. He shook his head. It’d all be fine after the wedding. Things would settle, and they’d be back to how they used to be. They would have to be. Joe kept telling himself this, praying it would sink in.
“Come on, babe, time to strut our stuff.” She winked as he looked at her. How could she not know how he was feeling? He felt sure it was written all over his face.
She continued without missing a beat. “Can we take your car, though? You can drop me at the hospital when we’re done, and I can get a lift home in the morning. I don’t know why all the babies are born on my night shift; it’s killing me!”
“Yeah, no problem. Let’s go. We wouldn’t want to be late,” he said sarcastically. He put his mug in the dishwasher and grabbed his keys from the hook by the door.Here goes nothing, he thought.
They left the house, a beautiful, detached rural property that Joe had bought a year or so before he’d asked Clare to move in with him. It had a circular driveway, manicured lawns on either side. A gardener came in once a fortnight to tend them, and the red tulips in the flowerbeds put on a magnificent show this time of the year.
His pride and joy, though, was his sleek, black Tesla Model S. Joe rubbed at a smear on the door, making sure it was still sparkling in the sunshine. He smiled unconsciously and looked up to see Clare looking at him, squinting in the April sun.
“I’m sure you love that car more than me,” she said with a snort. “Come on, open up. It’s fucking cold today.” She rubbed her hands together and blew into them to warm them up.
He unlocked the car, and they got in. Joe input the postcode for the dance studio into his GPS. It was going to take about thirty minutes to get there, but they had to work their way across town,andit was rush hour. Joe and Clare lived in a little village just outside the city of Chester, but there was no way he could live in the city.
Nava Dance was a light blue double-fronted shop with blacked-out windows in a row of retail properties—a boutique on one side and a coffee shop, The Coffee Mill, on the other. Set back from the main road, the dance studio had parking spaces in front. Joe pulled into one and locked the car as he and Clare got out. It wasn’t in the best area of town, and he almost wished they’d brought Clare’s car instead.
They stepped through the main door into a foyer filled with parents, waiting for a class to finish. Joe felt out of place as he and Clare waited to go in, conscious of the looks they were getting. A door burst open, and out ran a group of boys and girls, aged seven or eight, wearing leotards and tights. Joe eyed the children with horror. Fucking hell, he hoped they didn’t have to wear that. Clare looked at him with barely disguised glee on her face.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll look great in tights.” She giggled.
“Do you think we’re OK dressed like this?” Joe asked, looking down at what he was wearing, dark blue jeans, a pale blue sweater and his favourite brown Chelsea boots. Clare was in leggings, a long grey tunic and a pair of flats.
“We’ll be fine. Stop worrying,” she said, swatting him playfully on the arm.
As the last child ran out, they walked through the doors leading to the studio itself. The room was bigger than he had expected. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors covered one wall with a barre attached, two other walls were covered in posters of musicals and framed photographs of students. The other wall had a bank of frosted windows.
A man, presumably Seb, stood next to the window as he scrolled on a phone. He looked up at the intrusion and smiled—a brilliant, dazzling smile. Joe’s heart stuttered. Stunning didn’t even cover it. He was gorgeous, beautiful even.
He was a little shorter than Joe, not quite six feet, and his body was a work of art, lithe and slender. He wore black mid-thigh shorts that showed off his sculpted legs and a baggy red T-shirt that hung off one shoulder. His elegant feet were bare, and as he stooped to pick up a pair of black dance shoes, Joe didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone quite like him before. To say he was shocked at his reaction to this man would be an understatement.
“Hi, I’m Clare, and this is Joe,” Clare said. “One of my friends recommended you. You teach her daughter Chloe. My friend is Laura Sanders?”
“Yeah, I know Chloe. She’s a lovely little girl.” Seb smiled again as he spoke, and Jesus Christ, if his voice didn’t sound as smooth as silk. There was a hint of an accent, but Joe couldn’t quite place it. “Really pleased to meet you. How are you both doing today?”
