Win Me Over Page 8

  She stopped and killed the music. “Okay, let’s try that intro again.”

  They did it about six more times. Then seven. By the tenth time her fingers trailing down his chest no longer felt sexy. He was irritated. He was pretty certain he was off beat every time, and the look on her face said she agreed. They moved on to the next part, where she spun away and he pulled her back. He would need years to get this entire dance right.

  “Okay, good. Why don’t we call it a night at that? I’ve thrown a lot at you and it takes some time to sink in,” she said.

  “We haven’t gotten very far.”

  Her smile was tight. “It’s an intense process. Doesn’t really make sense to proceed until we get one part down. How about I come back Saturday?”

  He thought about what he had going on, which was ridiculous because he knew damn well the answer was nothing. They had an away game tomorrow night, so he’d probably be sore, but there was nothing to be done for it except deal. “Okay. How about that afternoon. Like two or three.”

  “Can’t do that early. My shop closes at five. How about six?”

  “Okay, that’s fine.” He definitely didn’t have Saturday night plans.

  “You mind if I just leave the stereo here?” she asked.

  “Yeah, sure. Might as well.”

  He watched as she picked up her stuff, patted Misha on the head, and then looked back at him. “Well, good job, Coach Clark. I’ll make a winning dancer out of you yet.”

  She gave him a wink and then headed for her car. The mood had changed dramatically from when she’d arrived. God damn, he felt stupid. He knew what she was thinking right now, that she’d gotten herself into a mess by agreeing to be his dance partner. He didn’t like to fail at things and he sure as hell didn’t like to do it in front of a beautiful woman.

  She waved over her steering wheel as she backed out and he did the same. One thing was clear: this was going to be hell. He was in store for a lot of hard work, and football season was not the right time for distractions. Maybe he’d made a mistake. He owed all of his attention to his guys and his assistant coaches. Between learning to dance and trying to keep his mind off his partner he was in trouble. Of course that might get easier after every practice. Turns out there was nothing sexy about dancing and after his horrible performance tonight he could only hope that she didn’t decide he wasn’t worth the time.

  * * *

  Callie placed the final pink cupcake into the giant box and gently shut the lid just as Lindsey came through the swinging kitchen door of Callie’s Confections.

  “Happy baby shower day,” Callie said.

  “I’m so ready for it to be over,” Lindsey said. “I love Mel, but she’s been so high maintenance lately. Is that normal for pregnant women?”

  “I have no experience with pregnant women, but it sounds about right. If I was pregnant I’d want everyone taking care of me,” Callie said with a grin. “When is she due again?”

  “Thanksgiving Day.”

  “Seriously? That’s funny. So you may be eating your turkey dinner in the hospital cafeteria.”

  “Oh no, she’s having a home birth.” Lindsey popped open the cupcake box and peeked inside.

  “Home birth?” Callie asked. “Why would she do that?”

  Lindsey shrugged. “It’s kind of a thing these days, I guess. They have a midwife all lined up and everything. Of course if they felt they needed to, they’d go to a hospital.”

  “That sounds terrifying. Then again, giving birth period sounds terrifying.”

  “These are beautiful and they smell delicious,” Lindsey said as she inhaled deep.

  “I hope everyone enjoys them.” Callie nodded to a box against the wall. “I loaded up all of the cake plates for you to display them on. I’ll carry them out for you.”

  “Thanks for doing that. I can’t wait to put all of the decorations out.”

  Callie had no doubt it would be beautiful. Anne and Lindsey had collaborated on the shower for Lindsey’s sister, so there was no way it wouldn’t be gorgeous. Between Anne’s organizational and party-planning skills and Lindsey’s ability to make anything look beautiful, Mel and her friends were in for a treat.

  “Wish I could come. Between work and dance practice I don’t think I’d have time.”

  “That’s okay. You don’t really know Mel and I totally understand. How is dance practice going? Is the coach getting the hang of it?”

  Callie sighed. “Our first time was Thursday. Let’s just say I underestimated what it would take to make this happen.”

  “That bad, huh?” Lindsey winced.

  Callie put her hand on her hip. “I really don’t understand how some people can’t hear a rhythm. I mean, doesn’t your body naturally feel it?”

  “I think it’s like anything else: For some people it comes naturally. For some it doesn’t. Like creativity or athletics. I can’t hit a baseball to save my life. Some people can’t match colors together.”

  “God, you’re right.” Lindsey was so good at seeing things positively. She was a total peacekeeper and tended to make Callie feel overdramatic. “I really had to force myself from freaking out on him. It was just so irritating, I mean, I was teaching him the easiest part and he looked so clueless.”

  Lindsey gave her an understanding smile. “I have faith in you. I’m sure he’s frustrated, too. Maybe try a new angle. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

  “Gross. But a good idea.” Callie reached over and picked up the box. “Let’s get your car loaded up.”

  At closing time Callie rushed home to take a quick shower—sans hair wash, her curls would look crazy if she didn’t take the time to style them—and then shuffled through her dresser. She’d had trouble moving correctly in her tennis shoes, so she donned her black Capri leggings, a tank top, and her nude T-strap character heels. Once her hair was in a ponytail she grabbed her favorite studio jacket and headed out to Bennett’s house.

  The sun had been warm that afternoon, the sky a deep blue, and she had a good feeling about today. Lindsey was right—as she so often was—that Callie just needed to be cool and try something new. She wasn’t quite sure what that was yet, but it would come to her. Anyone was teachable. She hoped.

  She repeated that to herself as she pulled into Bennett’s driveway. The garage door was open, but he wasn’t outside, so she went up to the front door and rang the bell. Misha’s yapping could be heard from the other side.

  A moment later he opened and immediately Misha dashed out and put her paws up on Callie’s legs just as she’d done before. Callie rubbed behind the dog’s ears. “Hello again, sweet thing.”

  When Callie stood up straight she met eyes with Bennett. He looked tired, but he gave her a tight smile. “Hey.”

  “Hi, you ready? I’m feeling good about today.” She grinned. Best to start throwing the optimism and positivity out early, she figured.

  He nodded. They could do this. She glanced at his athletic shorts and sweatshirt. Gracious, the man looked hot in anything he had on. His legs were incredibly muscular, as if he still trained as a professional.

  “You must have a gym in there, Hercules.”

  He looked surprised at her comment but smiled as he followed her gaze down to his calves. “I do. It’s in the basement.”

  “Nice. Let’s teach those sexy legs how to dance.”

  He shook his head and followed her out to the driveway. “We can try. Last time was brutal. I was betting you might not even come back.”

  She turned and put a finger into his firm chest. “From this point on we only think positive thoughts, Bennett. Got me? And I can’t believe you doubted me.”

  “I know that I was terrible.”

  “Yeah, you kind of were. But that’s normal. When’s the last time you took a dance class, Coach Clark?”

  He gave her a hooded stare.

  “Exactly, so don’t be so hard on yourself.” She picked up her remote off the garage floor and met him in the
middle of the driveway. “I know this isn’t easy, but we’ll get there. Trust me.”

  “Trying,” he said, but she wasn’t entirely convinced. He already sounded defeated, which wasn’t really a good sign, but she couldn’t really blame him. If he’d been trying to teach her football she would feel the same way.

  They got to work, starting where they’d left off last time, which was, unfortunately, at the beginning. She had them do it a few times without the music, and to her delight he remembered everything.

  “Good! Maybe it just needed to marinate, huh?” She laughed. “Okay, with the music this time.”

  A half hour flew by as they repeated the intro over and over. Callie was sick of counting but delighted with their small progress. She took a long drink of water and then clapped her hands together. “Okay, let’s move on to the next part. After you pull me back from your left side we’re going to do a similar motion toward your front.”

  She started to go through the motions as he watched. “I’ll do it again; watch me.”

  “I haven’t quit watching.” His words were clipped. She stopped and looked at him.

  Her eyes softened and she blew out a breath. “Okay, listen. Let’s try a different approach. I should have warmed you up first.”

  * * *

  That sounded like a bad idea, Bennett thought to himself as Callie circled him. He’d done okay on the first part. He’d actually spent an hour before she got there practicing on his own and he was already sore. And frustrated.

  When she finally stood facing him once more, she lifted his left hand and slipped her right one into it, grasping firmly. Holding their joined hands out to the side, she gently laid her left hand on his shoulder. “Now grasp my waist, ballroom-style.”

  He hesitantly did what he assumed she meant. “I’ve never ballroom danced in my life.”

  “Well, you are today.” She reached down and adjusted his hand to sit lower on her back, closer to where her body curved. She stepped into him, her head resting just under his chin.

  The scent of her shampoo and the feel of her breasts pressed against him made him feel dizzy, but her nearness caused some of his tension to lessen.

  She swayed back and forth for a moment and his feet shuffled along with her, trying to keep up with the rhythm. Damn, he couldn’t even get this right. But it felt nice.

  “I should have done this Thursday,” she said. The feel of her words rumbled against his chest. “We just need to get used to the feel of each other.”

  Yeah, he wasn’t sure if he agreed with that. He definitely shouldn’t get used to this, because if she had any idea what he was feeling she would see the danger in what they were doing.

  The music came on again and she began to count, moving from side to side, pulling him along with her. Reluctantly he tried to relax, as much as could be expected, considering their bodies rubbed together with nearly every movement.

  “Sway on the down beat, the one, and then again on the four.” She dipped more dramatically from side to side to show him what she meant. This had to be as basic as dancing got, which was humiliating. He hadn’t danced like this since middle school.

  But he liked it, being this close. Eventually he loosened up, his arms relaxing, legs finding the rhythm. He finally began to pull her body with his. Back and forth, back and forth. He even managed to turn them as he did so.

  “Look at you,” she said. He could hear the smile in her voice, which made him smile in response. “Eventually you’ll just feel the beat inside you. Do you feel it now?”

  “I feel something,” he bit out.

  She gasped and stared up at him, mouth hanging open. “Are you being dirty, Coach Clark?”

  “Won’t happen again.”

  “I should hope not,” she teased. But he saw a hint of something more in her eyes. He chuckled and prayed to the Gods of Unwelcome Boners to grant him mercy as she leaned back into position and resumed counting.

  The sun was low, easing into a golden dusk. Crickets and cicadas filled the trees around them, and the scent of the air was a heady mix of nature and woman.

  “This isn’t so bad, is it?” she asked quietly.

  “No, this is pretty good.” If you didn’t consider the warmth of her small hand on his shoulder, the softness of her skin where one of his fingers brushed under her hoodie, and the feel of her chest brushing his. No, it wasn’t so bad. It was torture, just as he knew it would be.

  Six

  A week ago Callie would have argued any person into the ground that the best smell in the whole entire world was that of chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven. Her cookies if you wanted to be specific, and they smelled pretty good right now as she removed a tray from the oven and took a big whiff.

  Last night, however, she’d realized there was something else that could compete for the best smell ever. Bennett Clark. After leaving his house, she’d gone to sleep with her hoodie just so she could dream with the light scent of him lingering. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, a touch of laundry detergent with an earthy aftershave chaser. But it made her think of being in his arms. Stupid, but she couldn’t help it.

  Practice had gone better and she’d been happy to see him loosen up a little. They’d spent some time walking around to six-eight time just so he could continue to get a feel for it. There was still a long ways to go and the hardest part was still to come, but she felt much more optimistic today and she hoped he did, too.

  The best part was that last night had been fun. There was no denying the man was pure eye candy and that made things enjoyable for sure. But it was more than that, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She was always excited to see him again and thought about him when they weren’t together. She wondered what he was doing now. It was Sunday. Did he go to church? Grade papers? Watch football? Yeah, that was probably it.

  Callie loaded the oven with a second batch of cookies—this time peanut butter. Did Bennett like cookies? She should take him some.

  He was easy to be around, and she liked that he listened to her talk. It was her favorite thing to do and she made no apologies for it. Bennett let her, without interrupting or trying to one-up her. He didn’t finish her sentences or go on and on about himself. Interesting, because of all the guys she’d dated or known, he was probably the only one who had the right to brag about himself. She sort of wished he would, because she wanted to know more.

  She’d Googled him, obviously, and she didn’t feel bad or stalkerish for doing so: it was a common enough thing to do these days. He’d been a Heisman candidate, drafted in the third round by Dallas straight out of college, led two games his rookie year when the starting quarterback was out injured. Basically, all info read like Bennett was on track to be a star. Except that’s not what happened. She’d known that going in, obviously, since he coached high school football and taught biology, but reading it had broken her heart.

  His career had ended when he’d been in a devastating accident … with a woman. That part had shocked Callie, just a little bit. The Bennett she was beginning to know appeared to be such a solitary creature, it was hard to even imagine him as a half of a duo—excluding Misha of course. The pictures told the story, though, and there were a few photos of the two of them before the accident. They were perfection. A Ken and Barbie couple. That is, if Ken was built for the gridiron and ruggedly handsome. But the woman, Ashley, she was gorgeous. Gorgeous enough to be a sports newscaster in Houston apparently.

  Not that it made any difference to Callie. She wasn’t looking to have a relationship with Bennett. She was just … curious.

  Callie set a timer for the cookies in the oven and clipped it onto the apron around her waist before heading out front. The shop was hopping, the line at the counter six deep, with at least four more lingering around and talking. Callie grinned; this was what she loved.

  Fall was a great season for Preston. There were several craft festivals and the local farmers market drew a crowd on the weekends. People just
liked to day-trip when the weather was so lovely, and Preston was close enough to the Kansas City metro area to make it a great destination. Antiques, restaurants, a small winery, and great little boutique shops lined Main Street. Callie felt incredibly lucky to be a part of it.

  She got to work behind the register, ringing in orders, while Eric boxed up cinnamon rolls as he laughed with a customer. Callie smiled as she gave the man his total, then went to work making change, not bothering to look up right away when the bell jingled.

  “Mayday, mayday, we’ve got a Barbara off the port bow,” Eric whispered under his breath as he handed Callie the box of cinnamon rolls.

  “Great,” she whispered under her breath. She thanked the man in front of her, handed him his change, then stepped around the counter to peek down the line.

  And nearly threw up.

  There near the front door, speaking to her mother, was Bennett Clark. Callie was sure she let out a whimper before returning to the next customer. She plastered her smile back on and resumed the task at hand. “Just the one pecan roll, then?”

  So it went, the line maintaining its length toward the door. After a few minutes she was able to sneak a glance and found that her mother had taken a seat by the window.

  And Bennett was sitting with her.

  How had that happened? Neither would know who the other was. Unless Callie’s mother knew who he was, but that did not seem likely. The most obvious explanation was that she had begun bragging to the nearest person within earshot that this was her daughter’s business. Barbara had done it before.

  Eric sidled up to Callie and whispered, “I don’t want you to panic, but did you—”

  “I saw it,” Callie said.

  “You better get over there. She’ll have him invited to Thanksgiving dinner, bridge night, and Christmas Eve church service if someone doesn’t intervene.”

  Callie inwardly groaned. She couldn’t leave the register, but then she heard it. Her mother’s laugh rang out over the small crowded room, followed by the most horrible words Callie had ever heard: “The tiara was as big as she was. I’m not even kidding.”