Best Dating Rules by Tamie Dearen (story books to read .TXT) 📗

Then Becca was in his arms.

“Spencer?” Her eyes were wide and innocent, but he didn’t believe it for a second. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking dance lessons.”

She danced with him like the other younger girl had, maybe even more suggestively. “Spencer, let’s get together after class. I’ve got some great moves to show you.” She twirled in his arms and lifted her leg high, totally exposed by the slit in her dress. Then she pushed her body against his and slid down his leg, before rising again just as suddenly to fling her arms around his neck. He flinched and closed his eyes, as she pressed her lips to his.

“What are you doing?” He peeled her arms away and gave her a furious shove. “What are you doing?”

“Only the tango.” She pushed her lower lip out in a pout. “But we could do more, if you want.” She lifted her arms toward him.

“Stop it, Becca. I’m not interested in anything you’re offering.”

“What do you mean?” Her voice was indignant. “I’m talking about dancing the tango. What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m telling you straight out I’m not interested in you. I’m in love with Emily.”

“I don’t know what you see in that skinny witch!” she spat out.

He felt rage building inside and struggled to control himself. Other people on the dance floor had stopped to listen to the angry exchange. How he wanted to punch her in the face. But instead, his voice trembling with rage, he told her, “You aren’t worthy to be in the same city with her. Not even to be in the same state or country!”

He spun around and stomped out the door. His dance lessons were over.*****

Emily tried to concentrate on the little ball she was supposed to hit with her racquet. But the noises were so loud, echoing in the room, bouncing off the walls, reverberating in her head. With every loud bang of the ball on the racquet or hitting the wall, she flinched, closing her eyes. Invariably, she swung and missed, often being pummeled by the ball as it bounced off the wall. She wanted to curl up into a small lump and hide in the corner.

Josh shook his head as she jumped and squealed, rubbing her leg where the ball had bruised her. “Emily, I don’t think this is working. Tell me again. Why are you trying to learn to play racquetball?”

“Because I thought Spencer and I could play together if I learned how.”

He chuckled. “Why is it you’re always injuring yourself in an effort to please Spencer when it’s absolutely unnecessary?”

“That’s not true,” she said, annoyed at the petulance in her voice.

“But it is true. Did he ask you to learn how to play racquetball?”

“No.”

“So, it was all your idea. Right?”

“No. Charlie suggested it.” His face contorted with pain, and she regretted saying her sister’s name. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to talk about her.”

He grimaced. “As much as it hurts, I’m still hungry to hear about her. Is she... Is she okay? Is she dating someone else? I really need to know.”

“Josh, I shouldn’t talk about her.”

“Please,” His eyes dropped, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “She won’t talk to me or write me back. Does she hate me that much?”

“Josh. I’m so sorry. She doesn’t hate you. But I told you she might not give you a chance. I know it’s not fair.”

“So, you think I should simply forget about her? Move on with my life?” His face was incredulous, as if the very idea was preposterous.

“Probably so. I don’t think there’s much chance she’ll change her mind. At least not as long as you’re separated by half a country”

“Will you promise me something?”

“Sure, if I can.”

“If she ever moves here, even if it’s a year or two from now, will you tell me?”

“Sure, Josh. But don’t you think you’ll have another girlfriend by then, or maybe even be married?”

His eyes met with hers and held them fast in a piercing gaze. “No, I don’t think so. I’m not giving up hope unless I find out she’s married to someone else.”

She broke off from his intense regard. “Okay. I don’t think that’s wise, but it’s your life.”

“So I have a great idea. Instead of staying here and collecting more bruises, why don’t I walk you back to your place? You can tell me why you think you need to learn how to play a sport for Spencer, and I can talk you out of it before you kill yourself.”

“Do you really think I’m that hopeless?”

“You’re far from hopeless, but you need to pick a quieter sport. And whatever it is, you need to wear padding from head to toe. You just get hurt too easily.” His green eyes danced with laughter. “And after I convince you not to hurt yourself anymore, you can tell me a few stories about Charlie. I only want to hear what she’s doing. Tell me about her rafting, about her signing up for classes and what she’s going to take. I’ll be happy with any news at all. I’m starved for it.”

“Okay,” she agreed, secretly happy her racquetball career had met an early demise.

Spencer paced in the lobby of Emily’s building. He’d gone straight from the dance class, hoping to talk to her. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to tell her. He still hoped to surprise her at the wedding, so he couldn’t really reveal the events of the evening. But he felt almost dirty at the memory of Becca’s touch, and his ears burned from her remark about Emily. He just needed to hold her. He needed to tell her he loved her. He’d said it before. Hadn’t he? He wasn’t sure. But Gherring had warned him he could lose her. He needed to reassure himself. And he needed to reassure Emily.

But when he’d arrived at her apartment, she wasn’t home. And she hadn’t been upstairs at her parents’ place. And she hadn’t answered her phone.