Page 25 of In Step

It was hard to tell what Cora was thinking, but I wasn’t sure understanding had any place in it. She narrowed her gaze. “And that means I can’t have my own key?”

“We didn’t say tha—”

“It’s a good idea.” Martha put her arm around Cora’s shoulders, and Cora shot her a glare.

“I suppose you knew about this.”

“No, I didn’t, but itisa good idea,” Martha insisted. “They’re not just your sons anymore. They’re adults, with partners and husbands and homes of their own. They deserve to be able to do what they like, when they like, and where they like in their own home, without fear of someone walking in on them unannounced.” She eyed Cora pointedly.

Cora huffed but said nothing.

“And of course, we’ll be giving you a key.” Leroy looked pleadingly to Fox, who nodded. “We just ask that you knock before you come in if we’re not expecting you. And if the door’s locked, maybe think first.”

Cora’s eyes widened.

“Please,” Judah said quietly. “We love you, Mum. You know that. But we need you to give us a bit of space and maybe trust us to run our own lives.”

Cora closed her eyes and the room fell into an awkward silence.

I grabbed my opportunity. “I think I’m gonna take my overfull stomach for a snooze, or I won’t be able to lift an arm, let alone dance later. Have a good trip to Auckland, you two.” I smiled at Judah and Morgan, then turned to Leroy and Fox. “No dinner for me tonight. Catch you later.”

I fled the room, making sure to shut the door, and the conversation burst back into life as I headed down the hall.Good luck getting through the rest of that conversation without a few tears, guys.I fell onto my bed and drew the duvet up to my chin, letting the soft pattering of rain on the tin roof lull me toward slumber.

Prue leaped up and curled beside my pillow, and my mind drifted to Kane as it was increasingly apt to do. Was he playing with Bossy or maybe lying on his bed cuddling Widget? The thought of the three-legged rabbit brought a smile to my lips. Kane was an obvious soft touch with animals, and it was increasingly hard to reconcile those gentle parts of him with the bully he’d supposedly been. It simply didn’t fit. Not to mention, I was pretty sure he wasn’t entirely straight.

There was something in a few of his glances... some kind of interest... Maybe even heat? Fucked if I knew, but he intrigued me in a way no man had for a long, long time. It should’ve been enough to set my alarm bells ringing, especially with fourteen years between us, but I wasn’t put off. Everything about Kane fascinated me and I’d barely scratched the surface.

He was gorgeous, for sure, all those blond waves, deep ocean-blue eyes, and disreputable-surfer good looks. A little thin, maybe, but with leanly muscled thighs that would look excellent wrapped around my waist. And a tight arse, perfectly sized for my hands. No tattoos or piercings that I’d seen, and not much in the way of body hair or scruff, just acres of smooth, tanned skin I itched to feel against mine.

And to add to the mystery, there was this whole attitude juxtaposition that was driving me crazy. Kane had a sweet, almost shy manner about him a lot of the time, but it was laced with moments of dry sarcasm and the hint of a lot more humour just below the surface, almost like that part had been wrung out of him at some point and was only just beginning to surface again. He was like an onion, and I was determined to peel back those layers and find what was underneath, if it killed me.

No one seemed to suspect Kane was anything but straight, and yet I couldn’t seem to let go of the idea that he wasn’t. But if he wasn’t straight, he was also shoved so far back in the closet he had mothballs coming out his ears, and I needed to be involved with that kind of complicated, ‘buttoned-up to the chin,’ and ‘skittish as a doe in hunting season’ guy like I needed a hole in the head.

Six weeks and I was gone. I should really just admire and lust but leave Kane the fuck alone. Yeah, because that was going so well, right?

A bleak, grey light darkened the bedroom as a cloud took residence over the homestead and the soft rain turned squally. I sighed happily and snuggled further under the duvet, my hand wrapped around my half-hard cock. A few tugs to images of Kane on his knees, and it was fully on board with the programme. Did I feel guilty? A little, maybe. But Kane wasn’t getting out of my head any time soon, and I may as well deal with it.

CHAPTERNINE

Abe

Glen Miller’s “In the Mood”rattled the studio walls as I wiped the sweat from my thundering chest and tied my damp singlet in a knot at the front to keep me cool.

I’d snoozed until four and then, umbrella in hand, I’d picked my way through the showery gloom, past Kane’s bedsit with its beckoning lights, and down the hill, the road laced with small rivers of water racing to the sea. I’d promised Judah I’d iron out a few kinks in the choreography while he was in Auckland, making sure we were ready for the kids by Monday afternoon. That had taken only an hour, leaving plenty of time to burn off lunch.

My taste in music and dance was infamously eclectic—tango, salsa, hip-hop, ballet, rock and roll—it didn’t matter as long as I could dance to it. But swing was definitely my go-to for a fun pick me up and mydie-on-that-hillchoice of warm-up music, much to Judah’s amusement when I’d made him swing and tango with me that morning before we got down to work.

It wasn’t often I got to indulge my love of couple dancing, especially with another man. I loved tango, and swing just made me smile. Big bands, fast moves, intricate steps, and loads of fun. Judah was a quick learner, no surprise there, and I had no worries about Morgan’s dance demonstration with Judah in charge. And Cora and Martha at least had some ballroom background. But I’d need to put some time in with Leroy and Fox if I was going to get Leroy over the line, in confidence, if nothing else. Jon and Connie remained an unknown quantity.

It felt good to stretch my tired muscles, and with a bit of improvisation and a whole lot of imagination, it barely mattered that I was alone on the floor. There was nothing better than feeling the ache in my body down to the very last ligament. A sure sign I’d left it all on the floor.

I didn’t strictly need to be as fit as when I’d been dancing professionally, but I still wanted to be able to mix it up with the dancers I worked with. It earned me quick respect and avoided the ‘can teach but not do’label. I was most definitelynotthat guy. I loved being on the floor and I’d been good at it. I just loved choreography more.

Breathing hard between songs, I grabbed my water bottle from my cool bag and took a quick guzzle before running the icy plastic over my sweaty brow. I threw the bottle back in the bag, took a few cleansing breaths, and dimmed the lights, flicking the music to one of my favourite tangos to cool down.

I swayed in place, head moving in circles, eyes drifting as my soul peeled open to the sensual strain of accordion and guitar. The music teasing, coy and titillating, tempting and demanding, dramatic and yet so, so subtle. The promise and the question. The look. The nod.

And finally—

---