I can tell this impromptu outing is irritating Lorena because she's not working to hide it even a little bit. Enrique and Bianca's decision to join us is also irritating Lorena, but she's trying to hide that one because the reason she's irritated is she wants to know the result of a vote we definitely aren't holding.

Me? I'm already pretty sure I know who's won. So I'm just happy to have one more night of pestering her before it all goes away. And I squander the entire bus ride there by sitting in my chair and staring at Lorena.

Marcia clears her throat when we arrive. "Get it together, primo," she whispers as she steps over me to walk down the aisle and through the rickety folding doors.

I said I know a guy with a bus, not a luxury vehicle. I'm just grateful my mother never found out what was going on because she would have tagged along and she would have had commentary on what type of vehicle it's appropriate to be seen in.

She'd also probably have commentary on the idea of a band dance in the first place. There's dancing and music and food and only the last one is guaranteed to be actually good, but it's so fun.

And the fun is clearly getting to Lorena as she steps off the bus with Carla, Divya, and Bianca and spins around to the music floating through the air.

The doors of Turtle Lagoon are wide open, a welcoming smell of barbecue drawing us in even as the twangy island version of a famous Reggaeton song plays out over the chatter of the crowd.

"It smells so good," Lorena sighs, looking over at the table where Miss Emmeline is serving up her wares. Her daughter's beside her, long past learning the craft and probably trying to take over and let her mom have some retirement. We all know it's never going to work, but bless her for trying.

"Let's go get some," Bianca agrees, threading her arm through Lorena's, her sparkling engagement ring drawing my attention to her hand as it threads past the small cutout on Lorena's side.

I don't even know how I got to the table, drawn to her like some old married man instead of... never mind.

But I only make it in time to see Miss Emmeline packing up her wares. One plate rests on the table and I race toward it, but I'm too slow and a man swoops out of nowhere to snatch it for himself.

"It was reserved," Bianca says. Lorena is glaring at me like I stole her favourite dress.

"Oh." It's an underwhelming response, but I don't know what I did to deserve the death glare the girls are all shooting me.

"Not everything is just waiting around for the famous Óscar Calderon to get what he so richly deserves," Lorena sighs, rolling her eyes. "We were here before you, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." I clip back. "But people come out of nowhere at these things. I was going to get it for you."

Her jaw slackens. "Oh, uh, well, it was reserved." A blush rushes into her cheeks and she grabs Bianca by the hand and races off into the crowd, weaving through people until I lose track of her deep brown curls.

She thinks I'm one of those assholes who needs what he wants when he wants it. And maybe I am, but tonight I'm also one of those assholes who wants to give her everything she could dream of. Even if I shouldn't.

And no matter how much Lorena wants to convince me money doesn't solve problems, it sure as shit will solve this one.

Lord help me if Marcia catches on to how much money I'm about to drop for this. Or Enrique. I will never live it down.

After a quick glance to make sure they aren't right behind me, I press between the wall and the table holding the pots and pans and plates and tap Miss Emmeline's daughter on the shoulder. "Excuse me."

"Yes?" She turns around. "Oh, lo siento, we're all out, señor."

"What would it take to get you to make more?"

"Oh, no we couldn't."

"Why not?" I press.

She doesn't even flinch, just waves her hand around at the packed up table. "Well, most importantly, we don't have any more ingredients."

"Ah, yes. That would be important. But there has to be somewhere you could get ingredients at this hour, even just for one dish, right?"

Our conversation draws Miss Emmeline from her cleaning up. "Que?" she asks.

"This man wants us to get more ingredients, but I've told him we can't. He wants to pay us but I don't think it will be worth the time, Mamá." She says the last part in Spanish like it's a secret code I won't understand. When did I start looking like an American?

"Not enough money?" Her mother laughs. "This is why I cannot let you take over my work. That man is Óscar Calderón," her mamá swats her with a dish towel.

"Hilarious, Mamá."

"I am," I confirm, hugging Miss Emmeline and kissing her cheek. "Por favor, could you possibly get more. I'll pay you whatever the cost plus five thousand."

"Lempiras?"

"Dolares, if you want it. Or Euros."

Her daughter's eyes go wide. "I'll call in at Javier's. I know he'll open the store up for me for a cut of that kind of money."

And she's off. "Thank you," I whisper. "You're saving my life."

"You treat her good now, you hear me young man," Miss Emmeline pokes my shoulder. "None of this... whatever you kids are calling it, 'jump and dump' or whatever."

"It's... no, I'm not going to do anything like that. I promise."

"So there is something," she says, pulling a little half smile. "I told Miss June there was something going on from the very first picture I saw of you two on the beach."

"Goodbye, Miss Emmeline. I'll see you later." I wave and leave the table, weaving through the growing crowd and definitely not to find Lorena. Who I cannot even convince an almost-stranger that I'm not invested in.

I'm not sure I'm even trying to convince anyone anymore. But I'm pretty sure I should be.

~ * ~ * ~

Once I'm on the floor, I'm swept up the crowd. It's mostly made up of a mix of locals and temporary residents who have a second home on the island. The number of foreign nationals who make this a regular vacation spot, half-integrating with the locals while still standing out, has grown over the years since I was first here.

The beat comes through the speakers and the band shifts from one song right into the next as though they were, in fact, the same song. And everyone keeps right on dancing as though that were true.

And then I spot Lorena's head of curls, delicately swept off her face by some force of will or magic, and I know where I'm going. But I don't make it more than two steps before a hand catches my arm.

"Where are you off to, Óscar?" Marcia asks from behind me. Shit, I hope she didn't see what just happened.

I turn around very slowly and try to keep any sense of guilt or trouble off my face. I'm pretty sure I haven't succeeded when she throws her hands onto her hips and adds, "I thought we were done with this foolishness."

"What foolishness?" I look down at my feet when I notice she's smirking. She's on to me. I don't dare risk a glance back at Miss Emmeline and her food station.

"Don't give me that right now, Óscar. It's all over your face." She shakes her head and pulls out her phone. "You know, for someone so used to talking to people, you aren't very good at it."

"Thanks, Marcia, that's so helpful." Now, even I'm not sure what we're talking about.

"I just wanted to let you know everything is sorted out with the tour. Abel's going to get Sergio down here in time for our tour."

"So you're back with him then?"

"I was never not with Abel, Óscar. And I will remind you that my relationship is my business and you are my boss. So if you insist on pressing, I will have no choice but to quit..."

"You wouldn't do that to me. Not now."

"I would not." She sighs. "But at times like these I sometimes seriously consider it. Which is exactly my point, actually. I love you, Óscar, and I'm not going to leave you just because things are a little stressful. Can't you see I'm just extending Abel the same courtesy?"

I might see that, if that's what were happening. It is very possible I'm a jerk, but there's no way I'm on his level. He's manipulative to a fault and I have no doubt he'll have something else to dangle over Marcia's head the next time she finds the strength to leave him.

I like to think I'd let her leave if she wanted to go, even if it meant blowing up my whole life. I hope I would let her go.

Marcia shakes me out of my thoughts. "Just let me make my decisions, okay primo? I'm a big girl."

"You're right. You're right. It's none of my business." I hold my hands up in supplication. "Thanks for getting everything sorted out, but I wish you hadn't."

I wish I could keep my disdain off my face but the thought of Abel still in Marcia's life makes me want to do things very unbecoming and definitely against my contract. The law I could deal with, my boss is another matter.

She doesn't say anything in return, just shrugging noncommittally and pulling her phone to her ear and then weaving through the crowd and out into the open air of the beach.

And I'm left alone again in the center of the dance floor. I don't know how long I stand there, moving only when I'm in danger of being knocked over by a blissfully unaware dancing couple.

All I know is the song shifts into something more upbeat and the couples and groups part in just such a way that I catch sight of Lorena, twirling around under Carla's arm as her hair sins out behind her like flames in a hearth.

Suddenly I'm not fuming about Abel. Suddenly I'm the moth drawn to her no matter how much it will hurt when I get there.

My feet carry me closer until I'm standing at the edge of their dance space. Carla's leading Lorena through a series of increasingly difficult turns and dips. Enrique definitely wasn't lying about those dance lessons they'd been taking. They're paying off big time.

Lorena's still blissfully unaware of my presence, smiling and laughing and twirling along to the music, but Carla spots me and smiles a grin like the Cheshire Cat.

And then she spins Lorena in my direction and lets go of her hand, sending her in a little tornado across the floor and straight into my arms.

"I've got someone else to dance with," Carla calls out. "You take care of her, all right?"

"I think he's done enough of that, don't you?" Lorena calls back.

"I don't," slips out of my lips and her eyes snap up to mine, pulling me in until I'm past the point of falling.

The world could cease to exist and I wouldn't notice it right now with the way she's looking at me like she might want me, too. Like she might be stuck in this same cycle of confused repression of things we have no idea how to handle.

"Would you like to dance?" she asks finally, holding her hand up to take mine.

"More than anything," I let the honesty slip past the carefully curated facade, and she blesses me with the most incandescent smile. I don't know what I'm doing with the rest of my night, I just know I want to do it with her.

If she asked me to quit my job, I think I might do it. No, I probably wouldn't, but I'd give it more serious thought than I should. And that's both scary and exhilarating. I want to go where she leads. I take her hand and guide her into a mostly empty area of the floor, pulling her into a close hold and relaxing, giving her a chance to back away.

She doesn't take it, pulling me in closer and tugging at my shoulder like a challenge. "You're not going to try to lead me with sloppy noodle arms like that, are you?"

"My arms are not sloppy noodles!" I protest.

"Prove it."

I pull at the hand on her waist until she's pressed firmly to me, pushing into her hand to spin us clockwise with the music.

The band shifts their tune slightly and a salsa medley with that lovely island twang blares through the room. "Ooh, I love salsa," Lorena offers, repositioning her hand on my back into a classic hold.

"You'll find the kind that doesn't occur in a competition or classroom to be a little more loose," I breathe into her ear, blessed with the quickening of her heart against my own. "You still wanna dance?"

"Yes," she breathes, pulling me close and testing the strength of my arm.

"No more limp noodles," I point out, and she laughs.

"I guess we'll see."

I always did love a good challenge.

It takes us a few bars to get used to each other, learning the nuance of pressure and positioning. But it doesn't take long before I'm guiding her around the room, turning us in circles and spinning her around me like the earth around the sun. 

She follows with perfection, effortlessly transitioning between moves with nothing but my hand to stop her momentum.

And then, I spin her in and place both hands on her hips, giving her the freedom to initiate.

In true Lorena fashion, she is a constant surprise, throwing herself into a circular back bend with nothing but my hands keeping her from crashing head-first into the floor. Her beautiful hair drapes against the sticky wooden planks and the cutouts on her dress stretch to accommodate her movement. 

I just move my hands up her back until she's upright, pressed against my chest, both of us breathing in tune while the music plays around us.

She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and this dress is the most I've ever seen of her and it's starting to become pure torture holding her in my arms and not doing anything else.

But soon, more people burst through the door and the floor grows ever more crowded, pushing us even closer together. There is no escaping her now even if I wanted to.

She knocks me out of my thoughts with a small sensual body roll against me, reacting to the change of music and offering another dance as the beat returns to a quick bachata.

Fuck I'm in way too deep with her. I want so much more than I should have. 

~ * ~ Well, that was fun. See you next week for the next chapter! ~ * ~