How to Get Hitched in Ten Days (9 page)

Theo smiled. ‘Did you read the problem page?’

‘The letter about that wife whose husband is obsessed with her wearing rubber wellies…?’

‘Honestly,’ said Theo, a twinkle in his eye, ‘I don’t know why publishers call them women’s magazines. Not every guy – straight or gay – wants to just read about fishing, vintage wine and cars.’

Dave stared at the two of us for a minute and then shook himself. ‘Thanks both of you. Yeah, guess I should think about what I’m wearing Saturday night and pull out all the stops.’

We watched him leave and then Theo turned to face me, as we both sat cross-legged on the floor.

‘Cheers for tonight,’ I said.

‘Any time. You and Dave got on okay. Says a lot about you – prepared to help him, despite the way he’s treated you in the past.’

My cheeks felt hot. ‘Yeah, well – I’d do anything for Jazz and it’s all good, now that me and Dave, as you know, have reached an understanding. I’m seeing him in a whole new light, now I’m getting to know him better.’ I grinned. ‘He’s a real softie under all that gruff, ungroomed bravado.’ I pulled a face. ‘Although I’m not sure about that hairy chest! So yeah – the dance lessons… if there’s any way I can repay you.’

‘Actually there is.’ He grinned. ‘Next month, I’m doing a charity salsa marathon. I can tell you’re fit from the gym. Unlike Dave, you hardly broke a sweat tonight. You wouldn’t think Jasmine’s boyfriend taught football.’

‘I think he stands with a whistle and bosses kids around, rather than plays,’ I said. ‘Gives up his free time to do it, though. So how long is this marathon? Of course – sign me up. What cause is it for?’

‘My nan’s nursing home – she’s passed on, now, but the staff are great and there is never enough money for the activities residents need. I teach dance for an hour on a Sunday afternoon and an artist visits during the week, but they’d benefit from so much more.’

I sat up. ‘Hmm. I run a fifties lunch for Butterfields home once a month. I can’t tell you how much they enjoy it. Were you and your nan close?’

‘Yeah – until I grew up and she found out I was “as bent as a hairpin”.’

‘Oh Theo…’ My chest squeezed. ‘Sorry to hear that.’

‘No problem – she was a right one-off. Didn’t agree with immigration… or women being doctors and politicians. Dad did well not to pick up any of her narrow-minded ideas,’ he smiled. ‘The carers at the home were brilliant with her, despite her ways, so I am more than happy to help them out.’

Theo stood up and went to put on the CD again. My eyes followed him, full of respect. Here was a man big enough not to hold grudges; a man with a heart big enough to forgive a loved one for the worst thing – not accepting who he truly was.

He headed back over and held out his hand. I slipped mine into his and he pulled me up.

‘Guess you better get some practice in for this marathon,’ he said. ‘How about I teach you my most wicked turn?’

‘Sounds good. I might need a drink in the pub afterwards, though – um, my shout?’ My pulse started skippetty hopping for some reason. I stared at the floor.

‘Sure. Why not?’ he replied.

Beaming, I looked up, as my phone buzzed. ‘Hang on a second, I’ll just get this text.’ I took my mobile out of my back pocket and read the screen.

‘Oh no!’

Theo’s brow furrowed. ‘Mikey?’

But I hardly heard him. Jazz was leaving two days early, on Monday. That would give Dave even less time to persuade Jazz to accept his intended, better proposal.

Chapter Eight – Jasmine

Eight pm on a Saturday and I was stood in a long queue outside Cuban Rocks, a salsa club Dave had insisted we visit for our night out. Don’t get me wrong, I was thrilled, but Dave doesn’t do dirty dancing – with the hip swivelling and flirty faces necessary to blend in. In fact, he doesn’t even enjoy a standard nightclub unless his dad’s favourite eighties group, Madness, come on and he can jump around for a bit.

Whereas I was lucky enough to have spent some of my formative years with an aunt obsessed with Latin dancing. She’d take me to lessons and at home we’d practise with instructional DVDs. Plus, time and again we watched films such as Strictly Ballroom and both had a crush on Patrick Swayze. I don’t think I ever saw my parents dance together – certainly not in an embrace. I swallowed. No doubt musical-mad Mum spent many a night dreaming of swishing across a room in the arms of Fred Astaire.

I didn’t want to end up like that – spending a life simply dreaming of all my favourite things. Mum’s cancer made me realise that there is no time to waste in grabbing every opportunity. Hence New York. The gap year I took before uni. The bungee jump and skydiving days I’d taken part in. And ditching Dad. I ignored his feeble attempts to keep in touch after Mum died. He wasn’t going to poison my existence any longer than necessary.

I shivered in my short floral skirt and high heels, wishing I’d worn a warmer coat. Truth was, I couldn’t find it. Mikey would have no sympathy, knowing how untidy both my bedroom and car were. Now he could probably pull off a few salsa moves, given the chance – but Dave? Don’t think me mean, but I just couldn’t help a chuckle that tickled the inside of my chest as I imagined him loosening up enough to do the necessary gyrations. And as for pulling the appropriate faces that should be able to seduce anything with a pulse…

My stomach tingled. That wasn’t to say he didn’t know how to shoot me a look that made my knees tremble like my dad’s hands when he spent a rare day without the booze. I clenched my teeth, determined to think no longer about that bully from my childhood. Instead, I focused again on Dave… those sturdy shoulders, the tantalizing smile and his dusky eyes that spoke only the truth. I felt a soppy grin wash over my face.

‘What’s so funny?’ said a familiar voice and I glanced sideways. Gosh. There stood Dave in smart black shoes, a tight black T-shirt and even tighter black trousers. His hair was gelled back and… wow. He looked amazing! More tingles in my stomach told me I found him hot, hot, hot!

‘You look gorgeous,’ he said and took my hand. Dave led me to the front of the queue.

‘What are you doing?’ I whispered. ‘We can’t just barge in.’

He winked and said something to the bouncer. I heard the name Maria, then… blimey – we were ushered in. Dave headed straight for the bar. A petite woman with long spiral-curled hair and wearing a tight red top leant forward. They kissed each other on the cheek and she winked at him.

‘
Hola
Maria – great to see you,’ he said. ‘What do you recommend tonight?’

Hola Maria
? My jaw dropped. Confident. Sexy. Strutting. Dave had morphed into Patrick Swayze! He ordered two Frozen Barcelonas, whatever they were. Then we headed to a booth and sat down. Dave took my coat as I slipped it off and placed it on the bench next to him.

‘Since when did you become a salsa fan?’ I said and shook my head. He sat next to me, rocking side to side. ‘Oh, um… someone from work went to lessons, but was too nervous to go alone and somehow I got roped in – I met Maria there.’

‘You never mentioned it. When did–’

‘I wanted it to be a surprise. Anyway enough about me…’ he said brightly. ‘Your life is far more interesting at the moment. Cheers – here’s to you and New York.’

Our glasses clinked and I sucked on the little red straw. Truth be told, Dave didn’t need a pair of tight trousers or salsa moves to turn me on. I recalled the first time I ever saw him, on the underground. Mouth twitching, he’s stared at me until the next tube stop. I couldn’t help smiling at those rich brown eyes, all crinkly. A man with a walking stick got on and Dave was the first to stand up. He stood right in front of me for the next part of the journey, still smiling and staring, occasionally opening his mouth as if he wanted to talk. That’s when I noticed his soft lips and my stomach had fizzed. When we’d both got off at the next station my admiration had turned to laughter. Finally he had the chance to inform me that I had a moustache of thick cappuccino froth. So really, Starbucks was responsible for bringing us together.

‘Gosh! What is in this?’

He grinned. ‘Brandy, whiskey and Cointreau, I believe. In other words, fuel for the feet.’

‘I’ll say – and good training for all those Cosmopolitans I’ll be drinking.’ I shook my head. ‘Never thought I’d see you sipping cocktails – what would your friends at the snooker club say?’

Dave shrugged. ‘I reckon more straight blokes would order colourful drinks and… I don’t know – buy women’s magazines, if society didn’t pressurise them into feeling it was wrong. We’re all just people, aren’t we, after all, with different interests and tastes? It’s a shame we feel pigeon-holed and expected to behave a certain way.’

Huh? Where did that rhetoric come from?’

He gave a small smile and rocked from side to side again, clicking a thumb and finger to the beat. My heart squeezed.

‘Thanks,’ I said.

He shrugged. ‘What for?’

‘Not pressuring me this week. About the proposal. About this trip.’ I took a deep breath. It wouldn’t be fair to hold off any longer. He had to know. ‘I’m now going to be leaving Monday instead of Wednesday.’

Oh. Dave just nodded, as if someone had already told him the news.

‘The head of New York operations wants to meet up with me, before he goes on a trip to Japan.’

‘Sounds sensible, I suppose…’ Dave straightened up. ‘Then what about dinner – tomorrow night, Jasmine.’

Funny, he didn’t sound overly keen – and just as well. ‘But I’ll be packing, Dave. Sorry, I just won’t have time…’

His shoulders slouched a tiny bit. ‘That’s a shame, but I understand. Although it would be our last chance to spend–’

’It’s last nothing, Dave,’ I said, ‘because there’s something I can finally tell you that was finalised today. You see–’

‘It means a lot to you, doesn’t it, this New York opportunity?’

I gave a wry smile. ‘You know my fave boxset is Friends. But yes, opportunities like this don’t come along very often.’ For a nanonsecond, my eyes felt wet. ‘Mum would have been thrilled for me. She went straight from living at home to living with my father and never got the chance to stand on her own two feet. Part of me…’ I cleared my throat. ‘I want to – need to – do this for her. Then somehow, in my head, all those years she was stuck with him won’t have been for nothing.’ And maybe, just maybe, I can lose some of the anger I still feel against my mum.

Dave stared at me.

‘What?’

Ooh. Now his eyes looked all shiny. ‘You’ve just helped me come to a very important decision.’

I opened my mouth to ask what, but at that moment a new record came on. ‘Come on – let’s just make the most of tonight,’ said Dave, in a bright voice. He took a glug of cocktail before standing up. Dave pulled me to my feet and led me onto the dance floor. Once we’d pushed our way gently past a few couples, he slid one arm around my back and… ooh. Forward and backwards he went, a master of the basic salsa step. At first he stuck his tongue out a little, and mouthed counting, as well as glancing around the room now and again, as if worried someone was staring hard and… I don’t know, might laugh. But soon his hips moved in time and gyrated closer and closer to mine. His shoulders relaxed. He moved backwards and took full control, twirling me a couple of times and kicking his foot subtly, on the fourth beat. My mouth went dry and I had a sudden urge to wrap my limbs around his lithe legs and arms. His dancing confirmed what I already knew – that in my eyes, Dave was the sexiest man alive.

‘That dress looks beautiful,’ he murmured and moved me to and fro, cheeks flushed, his eyes lit up. Then he stared at my lips and then suddenly snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me really close. My heart raced and a tickly sensation ran up and down my spine. Our hips moved in unison, circling to the music. Heat filled my pelvis. Dave’s eyes didn’t leave mine.

He grinned, moved away and let go of my hands. Forwards and backwards he continued to move, on his own, as if losing himself in the music. The song changed and more people came onto the floor, clapping their hands and cheering – clearly it was a favourite. Dave swayed towards me, hands in fists, arms circling slightly, in time with his feet. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, timing perfect as the beat quickened. I noticed a couple of women furtively glance at him. Then he opened his eyes and leant forwards for a kiss. Our lips met. The room spun.

Face serious now, Dave grabbed my waist again and gently moved my hips from side to side. All the while his feet stepped forwards and backwards and now and then his free hand rose, fingers clicking, into the air. As the song drew to an end, he moved closer and closer until our two bodies gyrated as one.

‘I’m a lucky man, having you by my side,’ he murmured in my ear. ‘I’m going to miss you so much when you go to New York.’

Goodness. Dave didn’t often vocalise his feelings like that. I stepped back and cocked my head.

‘What’s happened to you this week?’ I said as the soundtrack changed, and he led me back to our seats.

Dave’s cheeks flushed. ‘Don’t know what you mean?’

‘Baking jam roly pudding… giving me space… suddenly knowing how to salsa dance…’ My chest glowed. ‘Has it been… I don’t know – some sort of plan to make up for last weekend?’

Dave pushed away his cocktail. ‘Nothing gets past you, does it? Hands up. I was a jerk. Realise that now.’ He sighed. ‘And I had something even more special planned for tomorrow night but I’ve changed my mind.’

I raised one eyebrow.

Dave shrugged. ‘I’ve been working hard with Mikey all week to make up for last week, so–’

I raised the palm of my hand. ‘Hold up. You and Mikey collaborating on something? But the atmosphere between you two is always so frosty.’

‘Not any more…’ He smiled. ‘We’ve talked. Worked things out. Have a better understanding. Mikey is… a great bloke.’

‘So are you,’ I murmured. ‘Mikey’s only ever wanted the best for me, you know, like you.’ I sat up. ‘Part of me feels I should be miffed that the two of you have been plotting behind my back, but…’ My throat felt all swollen. ‘I’m kind of flattered instead.’

‘He gave me some tips on cooking this week – even though that evening turned out to be a disaster.’