Page 11 of California Love Songs (The Davenports, #4)

Chapter Seven

F ollowing the bombshell, the family chattered happily.

Everyone was in a good mood, especially Tessa, who loved a good romance story, and who had good news of her own to share.

She had been invited to show her newest paintings in a group exhibition in London.

Jay and Erin were still having fun working on their screenplay.

Arch was excited about getting to work with his future brother-in-law. Finn was busy with work, as always.

Nick tapped the table with his fingertips, reminding Crystal of a smoker trying to quit, and then she realized he didn’t have his phone with him.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Nick Davenport without it.

He’d made a fortune designing apps and was always using them, checking them, or presumably designing them.

Only Damien seemed quieter than usual, lost in his own thoughts. Crystal couldn’t help seeking out his face time and again. A couple of times he caught her eye and smiled. But there was something behind that smile. She just couldn’t figure out if it was good or bad.

As soon as everyone had finished eating, Howie told them to forget about the dishes and they’d have an impromptu engagement party in the backyard.

Happy to oblige, the whole family piled out into the sun-soaked garden.

The light filtered through the trees in the backyard, casting dappled shadows across the big wooden deck.

Howie cranked on the music and asked his wife to dance.

Soon everyone was dancing. Crys would have liked to partner with Damien, but Nick got to her first. Which was fine—she liked him.

He was tall and good-looking, but she just didn’t feel the thrill in his arms that she did in his brother’s.

About half an hour in, a salsa tune came on.

Howie said, “Your mother and I used to tear up the floor with the salsa—didn’t we, Betsy? But we could use a little refresher.” He looked at Crystal now. “We heard you and Damien danced up a storm at the birthday party last week. How about giving us a demo?”

Crystal felt herself flush, though there was nothing she liked more than dancing salsa. And Damien, with his flair for all things musical and his incredible rhythm, was just about her favorite dance partner in the world.

Damien, no stranger to an audience, stretched out his hand. She took it.

His palm felt perfect in hers.

She felt the familiar flutter in her stomach, but now it was sharper. More electric.

They had danced together countless times over the years, perfecting every step, every twist, every turn—but today felt different.

It had to be the news of Mila and Hersch’s engagement, the sense of romance in the air.

Or maybe it was the way Damien’s muscles moved under his shirt as he pulled her closer.

Whatever it was, she could feel the tension simmering just beneath the surface.

“Ready?” Damien’s voice cut through the air, playful and smooth.

Crystal forced herself to shake off the nerves that had suddenly settled in her chest. They were just friends. She could handle this. “Let’s see if you can keep up,” she said with a playful smile.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been keeping up for years.”

Without another word, he pulled her into position, their bodies aligning with practiced ease.

The rhythm of the salsa track began to build, and they fell into the familiar steps.

Step, step, twist. A sharp spin, a quick dip, her feet following his lead with a fluidity that came from years of dance.

But this time, his movements felt sharper, more insistent.

He led with more strength, his hand at her waist, guiding her through the intricate steps with precision.

She mirrored him effortlessly, but each time they touched—his hand at her back, hers on his shoulder—the touch seemed to linger just a fraction longer.

Her hips swayed in time with the music, her body moving as if the rhythm were a part of her, and each time she spun back toward him, the tension between them thickened.

The brief moments of eye contact were electric, and she couldn’t help but notice how his gaze held hers just a bit longer than usual.

The next move was a fast turn, a quick shift of her weight that brought her directly into his arms. She could feel his breath on her neck as his grip tightened, pulling her in closer, almost possessively.

The heat of his body against hers was undeniable.

Every brush of his chest against hers sent heat rushing through her, every inch of their connection making her skin tingle, her heart beat faster.

“Focus,” she murmured, a teasing edge to her voice.

But his grip was anything but teasing. He spun her again, the speed of the motion leaving her dizzy, and as she came back into his arms, his fingers slipped to the small of her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

Their bodies pressed together, the rhythm of the music pulsing through them in sync, and it was impossible to ignore how well they fit together.

His hand rested at the curve of her waist, the touch just a little too intimate for a dance that was supposed to be social.

She met his gaze again, her breath coming quicker now. The look in his eyes made her pulse spike. There was something about the way he was looking at her—something far beyond social.

Damien tilted his head slightly, that slow, knowing grin spreading across his face.

Crystal swallowed, the heat between them so palpable that it almost made her forget the steps.

She spun again, more out of instinct than memory, and Damien followed, his hand steady at her back, keeping her close even as they moved in time with the music.

She could feel every shift of his weight, every slight adjustment in his body.

It was impossible to ignore how attuned they were to one another.

Her feet moved in sync with his, each step a precise, practiced motion.

He led her through a series of spins and sharp turns, his hand never leaving her waist, keeping her close, guiding her effortlessly through the intricate footwork of the salsa.

The music swirled around them, fast-paced and urgent, but it was the feel of him that set her body alight.

His hand on her back, firm and steady, anchored her as they moved—his body so close to hers that she could feel the heat radiating off him, feel the strength in his arms as they danced together.

As they twirled across the wooden deck, Damien’s grip tightened, pulling her in for a moment of stillness. Her breath caught as he leaned in closer, their faces mere inches apart.

“You’re getting better.” Her voice sounded husky and breathless even to herself, despite the fact that she enjoyed teasing him.

“I was always this good,” he teased back.

He chuckled now, the sound rumbling in his chest, sending a wave of warmth through her.

Then, without warning, he spun her again, this time faster, the momentum making her dizzy again.

But as she came back into his arms, they locked eyes once more.

The world around them faded into the background.

The rhythm of the dance, the pulse of the music, the flickering of the sunlight through the trees—all of it seemed to disappear, leaving just themselves.

His fingers brushed the side of her neck, sending an electric jolt through her skin.

She shivered, not sure if it was from the touch or from the fire that had sparked between them.

Crystal’s breath hitched as he pulled her closer, his chest pressing against hers.

They were so in tune with each other, so perfectly aligned in this moment, that she could hardly remember where friendship ended and something deeper began.

But no, she told herself firmly. They were just friends.

And yet, as he spun her into a final, slow dip, holding her suspended for a brief, breathless moment before pulling her back up into his arms, the line between friendship and something more blurred, just enough to make her question everything she’d believed until today.

The dance ended, but the tension remained, crackling between them like static electricity.

Neither spoke, the silence heavy with everything that had been left unsaid.

But as they stood there, breathless, their hands still lingering on each other, Crystal realized something she hadn’t wanted to admit.

This dance wasn’t just about salsa anymore.

The sudden applause brought her back to reality. She was standing in the middle of the Davenport deck. And she’d just danced with Damien as though his whole family wasn’t watching. At least her cheeks were already red from the exertion.

Damien seemed to remember where he was at the same time. He turned to his dad, who was whistling, impressed. “Crystal is a good teacher. The best, in fact. She taught me years ago.”

Crystal took a mock bow. “It helps when you have a home studio.” During the long two years Damien had been on his worldwide tour, she had scrimped and saved and then installed a dance studio in her house.

“Well,” said Damien, a cheeky smile playing on his dreamy lips, “I’ll soon have plenty of time to get even better. If you’ll agree to teach me, that is.”

Crystal’s heart began to thud. In an almost inaudible whisper she said, “You’re really planning to stay?” She hadn’t allowed herself to believe that he might stick around in Carmel for longer than his usual five minutes.

Damien nodded. And then he announced to the whole family, although he never took his eyes from hers, that he was going to take a break from touring. “I’ve spoken to my manager and he understands. I’m going to spend more time at home.”

Everyone was delighted and speaking all at once. Damien had always been the restless Davenport, traveling the globe. He had missed out on so many important family moments because of it, and Crystal knew that they’d all be thrilled to have the missing Davenport piece back in their unit.

Then she shook off the lingering feeling of Damien’s arms around her. “Who wants a lesson?”

She had fun teaching some beginning moves to the Davenports, all of whom had natural rhythm. Even Hersch surprised everyone by getting right into the dance, and within half an hour he’d mastered the basic step, leading his partner in a left and right turn, and then a double-handed turn.

“I want to get the first dance right at our wedding,” he admitted. Which caused Mila to kiss him in front of everyone.

As they headed back inside to tackle those dishes, Crystal couldn’t help but sneak furtive glances at Damien. So this was the source of his peaceful, thoughtful demeanor. He had actually taken steps to stay in Carmel for longer. She wanted so much to believe that he’d stay. But would he?

Her father used to call her his princess, and tell her he’d always be there. Hadn’t that turned out to be a fairy tale? She no longer believed a man’s easy promises. Damien might intend to stay, but after a career of jetting around the globe, would he really?

When Damien was washing the big cooking pans and she was drying them, she said, “Did you really mean what you said? You’re sticking around?”

Damien’s forehead creased. “This is like the third time you’ve asked me this.

Yes. I’ve thought about it long and hard.

It just feels like the right time. I’m tired of hotels and hiring private chefs so I can eat clean.

I want to spend some time in my own house, do some cooking in my own kitchen. Make music in my own studio.”

Crystal found herself searching for something in his eyes, but she didn’t know what. “I guess I keep asking because you’re the biggest nomad I’ve ever known. I find it hard to believe you’re going to be content staying in one place.”

Damien’s raised eyebrows were a dare. “Well, you’d better believe it. You’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”

“I think I can handle that,” she said, and they locked eyes for what seemed like days before the booming sound of Howie’s happy laughter broke the moment.