The Ballerina's Stand (7 page)

W
HAT
WAS
J
ASON
doing here? Lauren fought the trembling shock she'd felt when he'd still been there when she'd exited the locker room. She'd signed a very clear “goodbye.” Surely he knew that sign.

She'd known it was rude, but she was used to being thought of that way. Maybe this time it would work in her favor.

He unnerved her. He didn't owe her any apology. Earlier in his office, for a brief instant, she'd thought he was going to lean in and kiss her. And she'd wanted him to. She was the one with the problems, not him.

She was so stupid. Why would he do something like that? Why would she even think he would...and why couldn't she stop thinking about it? All through the lesson with Maxine and into her class tonight, her painful memories, mingling with the desire to know Jason better, had become too much.

Finally, she'd let the kids work on their own, which had degenerated into utter chaos. They'd had fun, but they'd accomplished nothing. And she hadn't been able to find any peace in her own mind.

That's why she'd stayed to dance tonight. But now she had to hustle if she was going to make the last bus.

Sensing someone behind her, she spun around. Seeing him still here, she glared. Her fingers flew and she could tell by the confusion on his face that he couldn't keep up. She slowed down. “Stop” and “go away” were simple enough.

He shook his head, stopping barely a foot away from her. The shadows cloaked his lips, making reading them harder. He was slowly finger spelling. Carefully forming each letter, waiting for her to respond.

Frustrated, she reached out and grabbed his arm and pulled him out into the light. Then rubbed her lips telling him to speak.

At the corner, she saw the lights of the bus slow, but not stop at the bench. She started to hurry, knowing the driver had no intention of stopping for her, even though he knew she rode the bus every Thursday. He stopped for no one. If you weren't right at the stop, he didn't even slow.

As the bus pulled away, she stamped her foot and spun around to glare at Jason again.

* * *

J
ASON
DIDN
'
T
NEED
to know sign to read that look. He was not leaving her here, at night, to wait for the next bus. He couldn't say, much less sign his arguments. “No bus,” he simply said and shook his head.

She pointed at the now empty street where the bus had disappeared. “
L
-
a
-
s
-
t
one,” she spelled. Before Jason could begin to spell anything in answer, she continued. “You.” She pointed at him. “Drive.” Easy to understand as her hands were at the traditional ten-and-two position, moving back and forth. “Me.” She pointed at herself, then made the shape of a house. “Home.”

Relieved there wouldn't be an argument, he nodded and gestured toward the Lexus sitting across the street.

“You remember?” She pointed at her forehead.

“Your house?” He formed the shape of a house as she had. She nodded, but he couldn't tell if it was because she knew what he was trying to say, or if she'd read his lips. This was so confusing.

He nodded and once again pointed at his car.

Lauren paused, and with a deep breath, she surprised him when she gave a simple nod. He wished it was his company, but he knew she needed the ride and he saw the way she sent a furtive glance at the car. He wasn't the first guy in the world to use a car to get a girl.

He led the way across the street, hurriedly yanking open the passenger door for her.

When he climbed in his side, she was holding up a book, looking at it in the dim interior light that hadn't yet turned off. He'd forgotten that the book from his sign language class was on the passenger seat.

She pointed at him. “You?” She tilted her head to the side and tapped the book.

He hadn't told anyone, except Susan, about the classes, not that he was embarrassed—not about taking the classes anyway. But his abilities...that was another matter completely.

She flipped through the book. She nodded. “Good.” He knew that sign. “
E
-
a
-
s
-
y
?” she spelled—twice before he got it.

It was hard enough making the signs, reading them from the other side, nearly impossible. He laughed and shook his head. “Not easy at all.”

She handed him the book and settled back in the seat as he tossed it in back, taking her time buckling the seat belt. “Keep practicing.” She made that same sign she'd used earlier in his office.

Jason started the car and pulled away from the curb. The streetlights flashed over her features, and he let his gaze bounce back and forth to look at her in between focusing on the road. She looked amazing in the streetlight's glow. Wisps of her hair danced in the gentle blow of the air conditioning. Her eyes weren't looking at the road, or the sights outside, but at the dashboard.

He wanted to ask her so many things, but his frustration grew. How the hell did deaf people hold a conversation in a car? He took one hand off the wheel and made the question mark in the air—asking her, “What?” She smiled and pointed at the radio.

He frowned and with a shrug, nodded. He had no clue what she wanted, but he'd let her do just about anything to keep her engaged. Her long slim fingers, with their carefully trimmed nails, reached for the knobs, turning the dial until she reached a specific number. He'd half expected the rock music he'd heard before to fill the car. Instead, classical music floated around him. He liked it but he'd never bothered to learn anything about it. Her eyes lit up as the name of the song scrolled across the readout. She lifted a thumb and pointed to the roof of the car. Was she asking him to turn it up? He nodded.

She turned the volume up. Not too loud, not really, but louder than he was pretty sure those speakers had ever gone. Her smile grew. He looked at her and pointed at her. Then at his ear. “You hear it?”

She shook her head, scattering more of her curls. Slowly, she ran a finger down her breastbone. He recognized that sign and had to force his gaze back to the road. “Feel it,” she told him.

She could obviously feel the sound in the close confines of the car, probably better than in the big open studio, he realized.

That possibility would have never occurred to him. Her smile spoke volumes. Her fingers moved, but the shadows and his simple lessons didn't allow him to understand. Still, he was glad she was trying to communicate with him, something she'd avoided up until now except when she'd wanted his legal skills.

He smiled, making note of the song, of the radio station. For the first time, he felt as if he might find a connection with her.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

O
VER
THE
NEXT
few weeks, time stretched out in a busy mess for Lauren. Dylan came to the studio three times a week to work with Maxine, and Lauren loved having the people she cared most about together and around her. The studio became a warm, creative place.

Only twice did she feel the need to crank up the music and dance away the stress.

Jason had picked her up after her late class two Thursdays in a row, now. Tonight, as the kids all headed home, her anticipation built. He'd told her his concerns about the neighborhood, the security issues with her walking alone at night. He'd tried to convince her to change her class schedule, sounding too much like Maxine. Unnecessary, his concern irritated her but she was getting used to seeing him each week.

And liking it.

An hour later, however, as Lauren left the studio and locked up, her spirits dipped. Jason hadn't come. He hadn't texted, which was their normal method of communication, either. He didn't owe her any explanations, so she tried not to feel disappointed. Or worried.

Then she turned around.

Across the street, Jason leaned against his beautiful, shiny Lexus. The streetlight's glow cast his face in shadow and accented the breadth of his shoulders. He'd crossed his arms over his broad chest and his legs at the ankles.

Normally, he came straight from the office, so he wore suit pants and a dress shirt. The only concession he made to the fact that he was off work was to roll up the sleeves to expose his tanned forearms.

But tonight, he looked different. He wore a dark T-shirt and a faded pair of jeans. And were those cowboy boots? He looked casual and relaxed standing there, waiting for her.

Her breath caught as she stared at him. He was one of the handsomest men she'd ever met, and while she kept reminding herself they weren't in any way “that way” with each other, she couldn't help but wonder.

What would it be like—

No. Stop that.

He hadn't given any indication since that first day in his office when he'd leaned toward her, that he was attracted to her. She'd thought then that maybe—but she'd been stupid and run away. Even if he'd had any ideas, she'd certainly killed them.

“What's going on?” Lauren signed slowly. He was getting better with sign but still had a lot of work to do.

“With what?” As he opened the passenger door for her, Jason faced the light so she could read his lips.

She waited until he'd climbed in on his side of the car. “You work today?”

“Yes.” He started the car, but didn't pull away from the curb. The half smile on his face told her he was up to something. Finally, he turned to face her. “You eaten?” he signed.

Last week as they'd sat in front of her town house, they'd had another simple conversation. It was good practice for him and she'd enjoyed the company.

It had taken five minutes to explain that on Thursdays she went home, threw a sandwich together and went to bed. In response to this question, Lauren shook her head.

Jason grinned at her. “Trust me?”

Her heart flipped and panic threatened. She had to take a couple of breaths to focus on her heartbeat. Trust? Did she trust him? Did she trust anyone—really?

Slowly, she met his eyes and nodded. Jason hadn't done or said anything to make her
not
trust him. She was the one with the issues. It was her baggage from the past—and this was the perfect opportunity to work on it.

He winked at her as a reward, and she forced herself to relax as he pulled away from the curb.

They moved through the city streets, mingling with the traffic. He turned the radio on and waved at it to let her know she could choose the music and volume. Lauren shook her head, turning it off.

She wasn't in the mood. She'd never liked surprises.

Jason headed toward Glendale. Not too far away, but an unfamiliar part of town. The sights intrigued her, and she felt a sense of anticipation.

Finally, Jason pulled into a large parking lot filled with pickup trucks. The neon sign on the roof shone bright orange, casting a glow over everything.

Lauren had never been to any place like this, and her anticipation tried to morph into anxiety. Jason squeezed her hand and gave her another of those smiles that kept the emotional shift at bay.

“Come on,” he said, climbing out and coming around to her side of the car. As they walked across the parking lot, he took her hand again, and she let him. It seemed...right.

His hand was strong, warm and calloused, and any uncertainties she'd had fled. She let herself smile back at him.

The building's facade was decorated with old barn wood and Western shapes cut out of iron. Hay bales lined the front entrance to complete the cliché. Jason opened a big wooden barn door and the thump of country music washed over her.

The sharp, sweet scent of barbecue and mesquite filled the air, making Lauren's mouth water. Her tummy rumbled.

A hostess in a short gingham dress and cowboy boots led them to a table, then set large plastic menus in front of them.

The cute young waitress was talking to Jason, leaning close. Lauren half expected her to bat her eyelashes right in his face. And all Jason did was nod and focus on the menu. He didn't even watch her walk away, despite the girl's sashay.

“Hungry?” Jason signed. “I am.” He studied the menu where a large picture of a mega steak covered the top quarter of the page. Apparently if you ate the whole thing, it was free. She tapped her fingernail on the picture and saw him laugh.

He paused and slowly signed. “My brother in Texas would try.”

Lauren remembered seeing the legal diploma from Texas in his office, as well as the family picture and belt buckle.

“Texas? Home?”

He nodded. “Grew up there.”

She made the sign for a belt. “Yours?” and when he frowned, she spelled and added, “In your office.”

He smiled, but it wasn't that happy smile she was used to seeing. It was more melancholy. “My dad's,” he answered.

Jason returned his focus to the menu, and Lauren didn't push, despite her curiosity. Instead, she pondered her own menu choices. Once she'd made up her mind, she turned her gaze to the room around them.

Much like the outside, wood was the main decor. A mirror-lined bar ran the length of one long wall and in the center of it all was a dance floor. It was empty right now, but there were lots of people sitting just as they were, eating dinner, around it.

The waitress came back, and when he ordered, Jason pointed to a steak on the menu. He ordered just as Lauren had, with gestures. What was he doing? Why not order normally? Then as the waitress questioned him about something, he cupped his ear and leaned toward her. He held up two fingers and nodded.

He wasn't patronizing or making fun of her—it was just loud in here. Lauren wanted to kick herself for her initial thought.

What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she trust?

Once they'd ordered, Lauren rummaged in her purse for a pen, then grabbed a napkin from the steel bucket in the center of the table. She wrote, “Why are we here?”

“To eat.” He chose to answer her in sign. “And—” He extended his arm. “
D
-
a
-
n
-
c
-
e
.” He paused, and with a laugh, tapped his chest. “My dance.”

“You?” She pointed. “Dance?” She waved two fingers over her forearm.

He just shrugged. Their meal arrived and the conversation naturally faded. It was comfortable sharing the meal with him. Watching him.

Just as they finished, a band took the stage in a far corner. Live music gave off a different vibration than recorded music from a speaker. Especially like here, where the speakers were hung from the rafters rather than on the ground. With a live band the whole building would shake.

As the band warmed up, Lauren watched. The drum beat vibrated in her chest, and she smiled. When the bass player hit a couple of notes, she felt their resonance move across the air and through her. She looked at Jason and couldn't resist smiling. This was going to be fun.

* * *

J
ASON
COULDN
'
T
KEEP
his eyes off Lauren. She'd been so reluctant to trust him. He'd seen it in her face in the car, but she'd gone along with him anyway.

She'd still been skeptical when they'd gotten here, but she'd followed him inside and seemed to enjoy dinner.

Now, the music was alive in the air and he felt it, understanding how performances must work for her with the orchestra right there in the pit at the edge of the stage.

The first hour was for dance lessons. He knew all the steps from when he was a kid, but a refresher was certainly in order.

“You know?” he asked her. From his ASL teacher, he knew the sign for class. He made it and pointed at the sign by the bar giving the times. She shook her head, but her smile didn't dim.

He waved at the dance floor and opened his arms in invitation. She moved so quickly, he'd barely gotten to his feet before she stood in the middle of the floor. He joined her, as did several other couples.

Couple?
Why did just thinking that word make him pause? He forced himself to focus on the forming lines and the instructor who was setting up at the front with the band.

His heart sank when the woman started to talk into the microphone. He looked at Lauren, then relaxed as she nodded.

She reached out and took his hand, pulling him to the front, forcing her way to stand right at the stage's edge. She was reading the woman's lips. And probably understood better than he did as she was actually paying attention. He was distracted.

Way too distracted.

And nothing changed as the lesson went on. Lauren moved, smooth and even. He was the one stumbling over his feet. Feet that seemed to have forgotten how to move.

Suddenly, she looked over at him and spelled, “
F
-
u
-
n
.” Then the dance steps spun her away from him.

An hour later the lesson ended and they both collapsed in their seats. He signaled the waitress.

“
B
-
e
-
e
-
r
?” he spelled to Lauren. The look on her face of indecision was adorable and cute. He almost didn't want her to decide.

She nodded and the waitress delivered two longnecks with a fast slam to the tabletop and quick two-step away.

Lauren took a deep swallow and once again, his gaze caught hers. This had to stop. He reminded himself they were just friends. Heck, she could be viewed as a client, which technically, she wasn't. Not really. Pal was. Not Lauren.

Way to rationalize.

She set her beer down and turned to watch the dancers. This group was nothing like the class had been. This bunch definitely knew what they were doing.

Still she was eager to join the fun. Over the next couple of hours he wasn't her only partner, and many of the dances didn't require a partner at all. And Lauren tried them all, barely taking a break.

When she finally slumped back into her seat and finished the last of her most-likely warm beer, he left the rest of his beer untouched. He needed to stay clearheaded since he was the driver. But there was another reason to remain sober—the realization of how much more he wanted from tonight beyond dancing.

Lauren looked over at him and made the sign for dance. Then put her fingertips against her palm. It took him a second to remember that meant “again.”

She was asking him to go back out
again
? Already? This song was slower. Did she realize that? It'd be easier for a beginner, but it was a waltz.

He stood and let her take his hand. She led him to a miniscule spot in the center of the dancers and lifted her arms.

Slowly, she looked up at him, and for the first time, he felt the difference in their height. He was right at six feet, shorter than his brothers, but taller tonight as he was wearing boots.

She couldn't be much over five feet. She seemed small beside him, something he hadn't noticed before. Hadn't felt before.

He swallowed. She might dance on a daily basis, coming into close physical contact with the other dancers, her students and the like. But he was an attorney. The closest he came to physical contact was when his assistant handed him files.

Lauren smiled at him, ready to dance, and he pushed his discomfort aside to slide his arms around her slim waist. She didn't lean into him, but balanced carefully in the circle of his embrace.

He nodded, silently signaling that they were beginning. And they moved around the floor with all the others. He marveled at the beat of the drum and the bass, but was also suddenly aware of the boot-stomping accompaniment in the soles of his feet.

Lauren didn't need to hear the music, and for the first time, neither did he. He could feel it, sense it vibrating around him. Was this what she experienced whenever she danced? The look on her face told him that yes, this was her norm. Her sweet norm.

Jason watched her move. The grace she wore was like a mask. Was there something behind it? She let herself fall into the music, let the dance take control. He marveled at her.

He'd been foolish to think that the ballet dancer wouldn't be as graceful in a field of rowdy, boot-stomping cowboys. Yet he had. And she'd proven him wrong.

Images of the first night he'd seen her on the stage came back. The beauty of her performance had amazed him then, but this eclipsed even that. Unfortunately, that memory also brought back the reason why he'd been there. Pal. Her father. The file.

He stumbled and Lauren followed his lead, falling against his chest. He caught her, and while the others moved around them, they stopped. Frozen.