Page 17 of California Love Songs (The Davenports, #4)

Chapter Eleven

C rystal didn’t think Damien would really show up at Ray’s for salsa night, but she still spent way longer than usual staring at the dresses in her closet.

She had dresses for work, conservative outfits that projected calmness and confidence.

She shuffled through the hangers, past her collection of evening gowns for the times she attended the events she’d planned.

The brightest part of her wardrobe was the section devoted to Latin dance.

Her salsa-friendly dresses hung together, so bright and breezy they looked as though they were having their own party in the closet.

They were all strappy and fitted to the waist, with gorgeous full skirts that flared out as she spun on the dance floor.

She deliberated between a black sequined number and a fiery red.

Finally she settled on the red. It captured the playful mood that had been growing the more she considered making a huge change in her life.

Then she curled her dark hair and carefully applied makeup, finishing with a red lipstick the color of her dress.

She had Latin dance shoes in the same red, so she put those in a cotton bag to be slipped on when she reached the venue.

Driving to the club, she’d wear lower-heeled sandals.

She drove to her mom’s feeling as nervous as a first date. Which was crazy, because all she wanted was her mom’s advice, and if Damien did show up later, it wasn’t like they hadn’t danced together a thousand times. She told herself to calm down.

She pulled up outside her mom’s place. The little duplex had been her home for twenty years and although she visited her mom all the time, she was always struck with a burst of nostalgia for her younger self each time she approached its white wooden facade and flower boxes brimming with vibrant blooms. She let herself in, calling, “Mama?” as the door opened into the living room.

She inhaled deeply. Her mom was obviously cooking up something with warming spices.

“Crystal?” came the reply, and then there was her mom, Sofia. She was wearing a red apron over loose jeans and a frilly red smock. Her eyes lit up at the sight of her and she let out a long, low whistle. “Hola, mija,” Sofia exclaimed, her voice thick with affection. “Te ves increíble.”

“ Gracias , Mama.” Crystal did a little spin. “I see you got the memo about wearing red.”

“It’s our color.” She pulled Crystal into a long embrace and then stood back, admiring her daughter again. “You off to Ray’s?”

Crystal nodded. “You should join me.”

Sofia laughed. “I wouldn’t want to show you up, mi amor, by outdancing you on the floor.”

Her mom was right about that. When she was younger, her mother had competed in salsa championships. She was a vision: full of passion and flair, but absolute precision. She should have been a professional dancer, but as Crystal knew only too well, life sometimes got in the way of dreams.

She followed her mom into the kitchen, where she insisted on serving Crystal some slow-cooked pork stew even though she’d eaten dinner before she left the house.

It was useless to argue. So she accepted a small bowl of the delicious-smelling stew and sat down at the family table.

Its once smooth oak surface was marked with years of use.

Crystal traced the small grooves and dents from where she and her siblings had banged pots and pans as kids, and caught the edges with their compasses and pens as they did their schoolwork.

The kitchen was the heart of the home, where everyone piled in the minute they were home.

Crystal sighed. She missed her younger brother and sister, who’d both moved away.

Her mom sat back in her chair and seemed to relish watching Crystal eat. “So,” she said, “if you didn’t visit your mama for her cooking, then to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Crystal laughed. “I do feed myself sometimes,” she said. “Although my cooking, like my dancing, is never as good as yours.” She took another bite, savoring the smoky flavors. And then, more quietly, she said, “I came for advice, Mama.”

Sofia nodded and her warm eyes crinkled kindly. She waited for her daughter to speak.

Crystal set down her fork. “Do you remember what I wanted to be when I grew up?”

“Of course. You were set on becoming a doctor. You would line up all your stuffed animals and listen to their hearts with your play stethoscope. Then you’d give them each a blueberry for medicine.

” She chuckled fondly at the memory. “By the time you were in high school, you were so serious about your studies that I used to worry you were missing out on all the fun you should have been having at that age.” She paused and her expression turned melancholy.

“If things had been different at home…” After a moment, she took Crystal’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

“You had the grades for medical school. The scholarship was all lined up.”

Crystal nodded and gave her mom a reassuring smile.

“I love my life, Mama. I’m proud of what I’ve achieved.

But today someone reminded me of that early dream and I wondered…

Well, I wondered if it was still possible.

I’ve saved a lot of money the past few years and I have a brilliant team who could look after the business.

Maybe I could find a way to go back to school. ”

Crystal realized she’d been so fixed on imagining a different future for herself, she had been gazing past her mother and through the small kitchen window, which was framed by pots of trailing herbs. Now she lifted her eyes to her mother’s and was surprised to see they were wet with tears.

“Mama!” she exclaimed. “What is it?”

Sofia shook her head, smiling. “I know what you had to give up to help me with the mortgage, when instead it should have been me helping you find ways to pay your way through medical school. You kept the roof over our heads. You were a gift to me. The perfect daughter.”

Crystal shook her head, her own eyes filling. “No, it’s not your fault. Things weren’t easy for you and I wanted to help. You never asked me not to go to medical school. I chose to keep working.”

Sofia wiped her eyes. “You are a good girl, Crystal. You work hard and you are humble and kind. If you want to follow your childhood dream, you should. No one deserves it more than you.”

Crystal blinked to keep the tears from falling. Her mom’s encouragement was all she needed—the idea had been blessed. Damien was right. Maybe it was time to try something new, the way he was with jazz.

She stood and hugged her mom, inhaling her familiar scent and feeling reassured in a way she hadn’t realized had been missing.

She headed for the bathroom to brush her teeth and fix her lipstick.

As she did, she stared at herself in the mirror, dark eyes sparkling back at her with excitement.

She was going to do it. She was going back to school.

Only then did she allow herself to wonder if Damien would really turn up at Ray’s tonight. And only then did she allow herself to admit that she was hoping beyond hope that he would.

For someone so used to an audience, Damien felt like he wanted to run and hide from all the sets of eyes following him around Ray’s.

It was a small club, one he hadn’t visited since he was a teenager, and although it was buzzy and the music was incredible, it was clear that people recognized him.

He felt deeply self-conscious. All he wanted was to find Crystal and dance with her.

He’d been dreaming all day about holding her in his arms again.

The thought had made him hot, excited, and distracted.

As soon as he dropped her at home after their hike, he’d longed to smell the scent of her skin again.

She had looked so hot in her hiking gear, her face shining in the sunshine and her shorts accentuating those lean dancer’s legs.

He wanted to be close to her—even if he didn’t know what he wanted beyond that.

Talking about more serious things with Crystal today had reminded him how he cherished their friendship.

No one else knew him like she did. He didn’t take that lightly.

It was a precious thing, one he had to respect and treat with care.

But he also wanted her in every possible way. He wanted to kiss her, touch her, make love to her. And so the two ideas churned and swirled inside him all afternoon until he was overcome by the terrible mix of desire and caution and had gone for a swim to cool off.

Ray’s was heaving with vibrant energy and there was still no sign of Crystal.

The dim lighting created an intimate atmosphere and he strained to find her familiar features in the crowd.

The rhythmic sounds of salsa music and animated chatter filled the air.

Behind the bar, the staff moved swiftly, serving drinks, though most of the serious dancers stuck to soft drinks and water.

He asked the bartender for bottled water and pretended he couldn’t hear the two people next to him whisper his name.

He took a swig of water and glanced around the busy room again. Where was Crystal?

Was it possible that she’d forgotten their plan to meet here? Or had something held her up? For a flash he panicked at the thought that something might have happened to her. And then just as quickly, his heart almost stopped as he spotted her.

She was dancing in a flame-red dress, moving sensuously.

She was the hottest woman in the room. And there was her partner, dipping and twirling her.

Damien swallowed. The guy was a Latino stud doing things with his hips that Damien hadn’t known were physically possible.

A wave of jealousy washed over him. It was an emotion he wasn’t used to experiencing and it jarred him.

He needed to get a grip. This was Crystal. Crystal!