The Opposite of Wild (15 page)

She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m glad Shane’s coming. It’ll save me from the attentions of The Gnome.”

His eyebrows crinkled in bafflement. “The who?”

She giggled and told him about Dick and how he’d monopolized her that night, acting like they were the famous Liz and Dick.

He cracked a smile, and the moment hung between them, just smiling at each other.

She looked away first. “So…” she said brightly and too loud.

The waiter arrived with his vanilla shake. “Thanks.” Ryan turned back to her. “Yeah?”

She whirled a few topic questions through her mind—how’s work, how’s your family, how’s your love life—which level were they at?

She played with her straw a bit and looked up. “I was just wondering…”

He leaned forward. His hazel eyes met hers, looking curious and interested.

Her throat went dry. “How’s work?” she croaked.

He leaned back in his seat, and she felt a distance between them that she didn’t understand. “Can’t complain, I guess. Business is steady. I lost a good office assistant. You know Lauren Bishop?”

Her eyes widened. “I used to babysit her when she was a preschooler.”

He smiled. “She’s all grown up. She’s backpacking across Europe with her boyfriend this summer before she goes away to college.”

“Are you serious?” Liz put her head in her hands. “When did I get so old?” she moaned.

Ryan laughed. “You’ve still got a few good years. I’m older than you anyway.”

She straightened and pressed her lips together. “It’s not the same for guys.”

“What do you mean? It’s worse. We die sooner.”

She’d been thinking about her biological clock and the fact that men could have babies well past their prime, but she didn’t want to talk about that with him. She changed the subject, and they chatted a bit about Maggie and Trav’s landscape business. She told him about some of her third-grade students and their science unit with hatching chicks, how one boy had slipped an egg home that hatched in the back of his turtle tank to the surprise of the turtle and his mother.

The waiter arrived with his food. He took a big bite of burger, and she finally returned to her own lunch. It was kind of cozy eating lunch together in this booth.

She was relaxed and enjoying herself, so she blurted cheerfully, “You should come to the next dance class.”

He dipped a fry in ketchup. “That’s more Shane’s speed.”

Pop!
There went the bubble of happiness she’d felt from being with him. Deflated, she stuttered out, “N-no problem.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I’d better be going. Nice to see you.” She snatched her purse and fled for the front door.

When would she ever learn her lesson? Ryan was not interested in her, never had been, never would be.

She found herself heading for Shane’s Scoops. There he was—Shane was cheerfully chatting with the customers as he scooped some of his homemade ice cream into a waffle bowl. He wore a blue and white striped apron over his Shane’s Scoops T-shirt.

“Hi, Shane!” She waved and got in line.

“Hey, Liz, be right with you.” He finished up an order, then took another while she perused the menu. He’d added a low-sugar frozen yogurt in peach. That sounded good.

She placed her order, and when he handed the cup to her, she told him, “It’s so nice of you to come dancing with me and Maggie.”

“No problem. Hey, Gran said Rachel went last time. Is she coming too?”

“Probably not.”

“Oh, okay, no problem. So just me and you.” Red flooded his cheeks.

“Yeah, just me and you.” She smiled at him. This was why she should be with someone like Shane. She felt calm, cool, and collected when they spoke. Not rattled like with Ryan, who was forever setting her on edge.

She left the shop, walking across the street to see Rachel. She finished her yogurt outside, tossed the cup in the trash, and opened the door to Book It. The bell jingled cheerfully, announcing her arrival. She found Rachel in the mystery section, taping yellow “Crime Scene, Do Not Cross” banners around the perimeter of the shelves.

“Cute,” Liz said.

Rachel turned. “You like it? I’m trying to give each section of the store its own special flair.”

“It’s eye-catching, for sure. Makes me want to grab a mystery and solve a crime.”

“Good. What’s up?”

Liz lowered her voice. “I’m taking Maggie to dance class next week since she can’t drive at night—”

“No.”

“Just listen. Shane’s coming.”

“You heard me say ‘never again’ last time, right?” Rachel set her stepstool in the corner of the store and headed for the back storage area with the caution tape.

Liz followed, hurrying to keep up. “Well, what do you think of Shane?”

Rachel whirled around, eyes flashing. “Back off, Liz. I don’t want to go. Okay?”

Liz’s hand involuntarily flew to her throat. Rachel almost never got mad at her. “I meant what do you think of Shane for me.”

“Oh.” Rachel opened the storage room door. “I thought you meant”—she shook her head—“Shane’s sweet. You know that. He isn’t the kind of guy who does casual. Even in high school he went out with Kerry for three years until she left for college. Remember?”

Liz nodded.

“So now you want Shane too?” Rachel asked, an edge to her voice.

Liz was taken aback. She and Rachel never fought. She certainly didn’t want to fight about Shane.

“Why, do you?” Liz asked.

“I’m not ready for a relationship.” Rachel put the caution tape on a shelf.

“Okay.” Things were getting weird between them. “Hey, you want to do something Saturday night?”

Rachel studied her for a moment, then smiled. “Yes, I do. Let’s go dancing at a club in SoNo.”

Liz’s mouth dropped open in an O of surprise. SoNo, South Norfolk, was about a forty-minute drive to a thriving bar and club scene. Rachel wanted to go clubbing? Bookish Rachel in her no-nonsense braid and glasses? They never went clubbing. She must be very serious about a casual fling.

“Really?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Rachel shook her head. “I know, it’s crazy, but I just need to shake things up a bit.” She gestured to the door and locked the storage area behind them. She smiled at Liz. “Okay, chicken?”

She threw an arm around Rachel’s shoulders and tilted her head against her friend’s. “Okay, egg.”

Chapter Fourteen

Ryan pulled his silver Ford Taurus down the street from the McMansion where his mark allegedly left every Thursday night for an illicit affair. Or a night class in the city, as he’d told his wife. Either way, Ryan would get paid. He pulled out his cell and texted Shane. Tonight was the dance class.

Ryan:
Is Rachel going too?

He waited. Shane was probably finishing up at work. The class wasn’t for another couple of hours. He just needed to know if Shane was going to have Liz in his arms all night tonight or if he’d be dancing with Rachel too. He rolled his shoulders to loosen some of the tension already building there.

Dammit
. What did it matter? He knew Shane was better for Liz. They had the same upstanding-citizen-of-society personality. He thought of the fire in Liz’s eyes when she got pissed. That they didn’t have in common. Shane hardly ever got mad. Women loved him, said he was a good listener and so sensitive. He actually had women friends. Not to mention that he took relationships seriously. His brother had only been with two women. Two long relationships. Liz had marriage and white picket fence written all over her. They were a match if he’d ever seen one. Shane just needed the
cojones
to make a move.

His cell chimed.

Shane:
Just me, Liz, and Gran

Dammit.

A cherry red Porsche zipped down the driveway of his mark. Warren Carter would be easy to spot in traffic. He followed at a slow pace. So far, the case was typical midlife crisis stuff—sports car, toupee, probable young lover. According to his wife, Warren left at five p.m. every Thursday and returned between eleven and twelve p.m.

He hit the radio and drove, following Warren onto a series of highways, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
I don’t even like dancing
. Up ahead, Warren put on his blinker to exit onto the Hutchinson River Parkway. Looked liked they’d be heading to good ole NYC. An easy place to blend in with the crowd to meet your lover on the side.

He followed Warren’s Porsche onto a jam-packed Cross County Parkway and, within a mile, came to almost a dead stop. He fiddled with the radio dial, searching for a traffic report. Was it an accident?

He thought of Gran and her accident. It had changed her. Not in a good way. She was taking more risks than a lady her age should. And Liz was encouraging her!

Traffic started to move again. A vision of Liz in her buttoned-up shirt and ironed pants dancing a waltz came to him. What was he worried about? She probably never had impulsive hot sex. She was more the wine me, dine me, three months into a relationship, and they made the mutual decision to do it.

And she had declined his dinner invitation.

By the time he reached the city, he’d convinced himself that Liz was an uptight control freak and he should stop wasting his time thinking about her. He turned onto West Forty-Second Street and followed only one car behind his mark. What was Warren Carter up to?

A few more turns and Warren pulled into a parking garage. Ryan got lucky and found a parking spot around the corner.

He waited patiently for Warren to emerge. A few minutes later, Warren left the garage and hurried down the busy Manhattan sidewalk. Ryan followed several paces behind as Warren walked several blocks more and finally stopped. He pulled open the glass door of a building and went inside. Ryan sped up and read the sign on the door: Marie’s French Cooking School.

Maybe he could still make it back in time for that dance class. Warren was taking a cooking class. Case closed.

Ryan exhaled sharply. He wasn’t doing his job if he left it at that. He waited until it seemed everyone had arrived for class, then climbed the stairs to the second-floor classroom. Twelve students gathered around a large kitchen island while a plump woman with bleached-blond hair, teased to nearly a foot above her head, instructed them in a French accent. “Zee egg whites must be fluffy. Zey are the heart of our soufflé.”

Shit
. Warren Carter was smiling down at a brunette young enough to be his daughter. She kept touching his arm, all fluttery lashes and giggles. He pulled the microcamera from his pocket and took a few pictures. He knew he had to stick around and confirm if Warren went anywhere with the brunette after class. He headed back downstairs to wait it out in the car.

Cooking class with no follow-up meant nothing. Harmless flirting. But if they went to her place or a hotel, he needed that proof.

Relax. Shane is notoriously slow to make a move
. He pushed their stupid dance class firmly out of his mind.

~ ~ ~

“This is nice, the three of us,” Maggie said from the passenger side of the convertible. “You’re going to have a blast, Shane.”

Shane leaned forward from the back seat. “I’m sure I will, Gran,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the breeze from the open convertible.

Liz glanced back at Shane, his red hair whipping around in the wind. “Maybe I should put the top up.”

“Why?” Maggie asked. “It’s a gorgeous night.”

“It’s okay,” Shane called. “Next time I’ll bring a hat.”

A short while later, Liz pulled into the parking lot. She pulled off her baseball cap and brushed out her hair. Maggie checked her look in the mirror, adding some lip gloss. Liz passed Shane her brush, and he smoothed his hair back to its usual side sweep over his forehead.

“Let’s do this,” Maggie said.

The three of them headed for the front door, and Shane held it open. Liz touched his arm as she passed. “You’re going to be very popular here, so all I ask is that you cut in whenever Dick tries to dance more than one dance with me. Please, I’m begging you.”

“No problem.”

They headed into the mirrored room to find Jorge and the rest of the class from last week. Dick wiggled his fingers at her. “That’s him,” she said under her breath.

Dick hurried to her side, pointedly ignoring Shane. “Hello, Liz. I’ve been practicing my dance moves.” He did a little shuffle in place, one hand on his protruding belly, the other in the air where presumably she’d be. “Save a dance for me.”

Liz grabbed Shane’s hand; it felt warm and safe in hers. “This is my boyfriend, Shane. Shane, this is Dick.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Shane extended his hand.

Dick did not shake it. “What’s that?” He looked back toward the gaggle of women. “I think Sally is calling me.” He turned and stomped off toward Sally, the tall, thin woman that Pam had danced with last week. She looked surprised to see him.

“I feel bad,” Shane said with a cheeky grin. “He was really into you.”

She laughed and smacked his arm.

“I guess I have to dance with you now, since you’re my girlfriend.”

She smiled up at him. “I guess you do.” It sure beat dancing with the gnome.

Maggie’s trilling laugh carried over to them from where she was busy flirting with Jorge. He smiled down at her like she was the rice to his beans.

“That’s Jorge,” Liz whispered.

“Gran’s flirting. I’ve never seen that. It’s like seeing a cow suddenly milk itself.”

She stared at him.
Is Maggie the cow? Is she
milking
herself?

Jorge clapped twice. “And…let’s begin. Pair up. Arianna, cha-cha number three.”

Arianna started the music, then met Jorge in the center of the dance floor, where they demonstrated the cha-cha.

“This is the basic triple step,” Jorge called, “right, left, right, and one and two.” He spun Arianna around, and the cha-cha steps continued in perfect synch with each other. “And cha-cha-cha.” He spun her around again so she was facing the class, and they continued a sideways cha-cha-cha.

Shane and Liz exchanged looks of horror. How would they ever manage that?