The Shameless Hour (The Ivy Years #4)

A moment later, an elderly stranger in a tuxedo approached the table. I expected him to greet the family, but he had a different agenda. “The band is taking requests,” he said. “Would anyone like a request card?” He held up a fountain pen in his hand.

“No thank you,” Bella said quickly.

“I would,” I said, raising my hand.

The old man beamed. “Here you are.” He handed me a thick card. “Write down as many songs as you like.”

I quickly jotted the word MERENGUE and handed it back.

He palmed the card, squinting at it. “That’s not terribly specific,” he said. “Do you care to elaborate?”

“Any one will do,” I said.

The old man grinned. “All right, then. I believe I will take your request over right away. It would be worth it to get some young blood on that floor.” He winked and walked toward the band.

“What did you just do?” asked a wary Bella.

“I made a request. Hope you’re wearing comfortable shoes.”

Her eyes widened. “I told you I don’t dance.”

I sipped my wine so I wouldn’t laugh. “It’s just like running, Bella. Anyone with two feet can do it. And I’m pretty sure that some of those people over there are making do with barely that.”

She crossed her arms. “It’s not my thing.”

“Try anything once, right?”

Bella’s mother and sister were hanging on every word. At least Bella and Julie weren’t fighting anymore.

It was only two minutes later when I heard it starting up — that classic one-two merengue rhythm. It was the soundtrack of my whole life. “Here we go,” I said, standing up. I offered Bella my hand.

She shook her head. Even worse, she scooted her chair toward the wall. On the dance floor, the energy picked up as the geezers began to move to the faster beat. “Don’t leave me hanging,” I said, my hand still hanging there in the air. “Come on now. Nobody puts Bella in a corner.”

On the other side of the table, Bella’s sister snorted into her white wine, then began to laugh.

Bella rolled her eyes. Hard. “You did not just quote Dirty Dancing.”

I leaned down near Bella’s ear. “I did. Now get your ass out of that chair like the girl in the movie or I’ll have to put you in a fireman’s hold.”

Her mouth tight, Bella stood. Not one to waste an opportunity, I clasped her hand, tugging her onto the dance floor. When we reached the center, I put one hand onto Bella’s waist and took her opposite hand in mine. She was as stiff as a piece of wood. “Shake it off, chica. This is supposed to be fun.”

“Your job tonight was to make my life less embarrassing. Not more.”

“I am. Because we’re going to be the best looking dancers on this floor, and everyone in this mausoleum is going to wonder how I got so lucky as to be here with you. Now listen to this rhythm, okay? Just step to the beat. And let your hips absorb the motion.” I began to step in place, moving to the music. The merengue is a Dominican dance and every kid in my neighborhood can merengue before his fifth birthday. It’s just not that complicated.

With nervous eyes, Bella began to move.

“Use the hips,” I prompted, tapping a finger to the silky fabric of her dress. As I watched, she loosened up a tiny fraction. I leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You look amazing in this dress. Now move those hips a little more and you’re there.”

Biting her lip, Bella moved with me.

“See? Nothing to it. Now here’s the final touch — step forward towards me, then back again.” I guided her close to my body. “See? Now you like me…” I let her fall back. “Now you don’t. Just like in real life.”

And, just like that, we had a proper merengue going on. “There. I knew you could move.”

Bella pouted. “We’ve seen each other’s moves, Rafe.”

She lifted her eyes, and the heat in them went straight to my dick. Jesucristo. That was the trouble with getting too close to Bella. I was always going to be susceptible to her. Anything she did to remind me of that night was always going to knock me right over.

“Ha,” she said. “I finally found a way to shut you up.” Bella put a little more effort into her merengue, looking smug.

“Just for that, I’m going to spin you now.”

Her eyes popped wide. “No, don’t.”

I shook my head. “This isn’t the tango. Merengue is an easygoing dance. I’m raising your right arm, and you’re going to turn around under it without breaking the beat. Nice and slow. Now turn. To your right.” I lifted our hands above her head.