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From Fling To Wedding Ring

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2018
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‘Something like that.’ He was reluctant to get drawn into the whys and wherefores of it all now, when the two of them were just beginning to get along. Any difficulties would probably make themselves apparent in time anyway and she’d realise why no other woman was willing to stick around for long. The very fact she was still here after that display was already an improvement on recent records.

‘Well, uh, I look forward to dancing with both of you. Just tell me when and where.’ She slipped her bag up over her shoulder and made a move to leave. Ben should have realised a young, beautiful woman had somewhere else to be. Not everyone spent their free time socialising with pensioners and volunteering manual labour. She’d look more at home sipping cocktails in an exclusive wine bar or whizzing along the coast in a convertible car than she did here in the grime and chaos of The Shed, but he wasn’t ready for her to go.

They’d had that run-in at work but he liked that she’d challenged him, questioned how every course of treatment would affect her patient personally; it showed she cared. He’d slipped up that one time, becoming more confrontational than usual after a rough night trying to get his grandfather settled, but, now she was here laughing and joking and shedding that frosty image she unknowingly projected at work, he couldn’t wait to start the lessons. It would do him good to be around someone younger for a change and remind him he hadn’t totally surrendered his right to fun in order to look after those who needed him.

‘We have a room upstairs we hire out for meetings and classes. No one’s using it for the next few weeks so I thought it would be perfect for rehearsals.’ It also meant he could split his time between The Shed and dance rehearsals without having to go home in between.

‘Sounds good. We can compare work rotas and figure out a schedule but I’m free tomorrow night unless any emergencies arise.’

‘Me, too.’

‘So I guess that means it’s official then... We’re doing this.’

He could see Mollie’s apprehension in the way she was biting her lip and nibbling off a patch of that bright red lipstick until she was starting to make him nervous about the extra commitment he was taking on here, too.

‘In that case I’ll see you same time tomorrow then, partner.’

She stopped worrying her lip long enough to smile at him; an acceptance that no matter what challenges lay ahead they were in this together. In that moment he was prepared to clear his entire schedule to make time for her. And the competition.

CHAPTER THREE (#u7989cb8f-5784-5cb9-a74d-a86441441ba6)

MOLLIE HAD HAD a full twenty-four hours to obsess over the prospect of spending the evening ahead with Ben. That included several hours’ sorting through the entire contents of her wardrobe deciding on what to wear. From all those eighties’ dance movies she’d seen, the uniform for practice was supposedly a leotard and leg warmers, but that was a step too far out of her comfort zone and might have attracted more than a few curious glances on the Tube.

Instead, she’d opted for a pair of red Capri pants and a red and white checked shirt for ease of movement. She’d had the foresight to tie her hair up in a scarf tonight and donned a pair of rubber-soled baseball pumps in case she slipped, having seen how dusty the premises were last night. Outwardly, at least, she thought she looked the part, while the cha-cha-cha was going on in her stomach.

For anyone who didn’t know better, they could’ve been forgiven for thinking she’d been getting ready for a first date. She shrugged off the ridiculous notion, putting it down to the teasing she’d endured from her sister over the subject. In the short time she’d been at the hospital even she knew about Ben’s reputation as a ladies’ man and seemed to think that was a cue for Mollie to throw herself at him. As if some ill-advised affair orchestrated with a work colleague would erase all traces of her painful past.

It was silly to be thinking about this as anything more than a show-mance, a pretend partnership they were hoping would impress the dance judges and those willing to pay to see the spectacle. If only someone would tell that to her flip-flopping stomach and pounding heart, which were insisting this could be the beginning of some passionate love affair. That was as likely as this being the start of a glittering dance career, but sometimes it was nice to fantasise that the impossible could happen.


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