Page 10 of To Steal a Heart

“Ew, I don’t even want to know what that means.” Arden was glad her parents were close, but she didn’t need to hear about the intimate details that took place behind closed doors. “I’ll let you go on that note.” A steady stream of people had been filing into the studio during the short time when Arden stood outside the door. It was almost time for the class to begin. She didn’t want to be late, especially on the first night.

“I’ll give you one week to find a date. After that, I’m getting one for you.”

No way was Arden going to allow that. However, she was tired of arguing with Mom. “Bye,” she sang. “Love you.”

She dropped her phone into her purse as she opened the door and went inside.

CHAPTER 4

After the first fifteen minutes, Arden realized that the bachata class was more of a meet-and-greet for singles rather than a way for participants to actually learn the steps. There were approximately thirty students, with two more guys than girls. One guy paired up with the instructor, which left the other guy standing off to the side until he could rotate back in when the partners changed. The idea was for all the partners to switch every five minutes or so.

Marissa, the instructor, was in her early twenties. Tall and reed thin with dark hair and matching eyes, she certainly seemed to know what she was doing—to the point of coming off as bored with having to teach such simple steps. Her hair was skinned back in a ponytail, and she wore black spandex pants and a black t-shirt. Arden made a mental note to write her character so that she showed more interest in her students.

“You’re a good dancer,” her partner said appraisingly.

“Thanks.” It had only taken her a few minutes to get the hang of the beginner steps.

“You should come to the dance this weekend.”

Around her same age, her partner was a couple of inches taller than her 5’6” frame. Thickly set with dark, unruly hair and a square face, Dave seemed like a nice guy. He’d told Arden what he did for a living, but all she got out of the conversation was that he was some sort of software developer. Her one complaint was that his breath smelled like onions. Oh, and his meaty hands were moist. Make that two complaints.

Dave’s left eye twitched. “Maybe we could go to the dance together.”

“Thanks,” she said delicately, “but I’ll be out of town.” It was a white lie, but Arden figured it was kind to let him down gently.

He nodded in disappointment. “Maybe some other time.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Marissa led them through a sequence before telling them to switch partners.

Next, Arden got a tall man with glasses who was going bald. He offered her a polite smile. “The name’s Stephen.”

“Arden.” He seemed like the intellectual type, a banker or accountant perhaps.

“You’re beautiful,” he said frankly like she was an inanimate object rather than a person. “I can’t decide if your hair is brown or auburn.”

“Both.” She thought of herself as a brunette with auburn highlights.

He looked thoughtful. “Is your hair natural?”

“It is,” she laughed. “I’m afraid it’s a mess today … the windblown look.”

“I think it’s glorious,” he murmured, his expression dreamy.

“Thanks.” Okay, this was more than a little awkward. “What do you do, Stephen?”

“I’m an accountant.”

She fought the urge to grin. No surprise there. She’d pegged him accurately.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a writer.”

He looked impressed. “What do you write?”

“Novels.” Stephen’s moves were jerky and robotic, but at least he knew the steps, as opposed to poor Dave, who was tripping all over himself.