Page 25 of Surrendering His Heart (Buena Hills #4)

“I still feel bad for the way my brother acted earlier,” Hallie said near the end of dinner, setting her fork across her empty plate.

Although she’d already apologized, she wasn’t able to let her brother’s words go.

And she couldn’t force away the curiosity to find out what he’d said to Christian right before he left.

Christian stopped cutting the last of Penelope’s noodles to look at Hallie from across the table. The child had spaghetti sauce smeared across her cheeks and more smashed in between her fingers.

Gross.

“You have nothing to feel bad about.” He slid the pink plastic plate back in front of his daughter. “Besides, He was very … illuminating.”

Okay, what did THAT mean?

“It’s just that Tyler has a way of making things awkward around the guys I date,” Hallie explained.

Christian’s hand froze, his fork hovering above his plate. Heat burst across her face. Of all the explanations she could have made, how did those words fly from her mouth?

“Not that we’re dating. We’re just friends. Are we friends? Maybe we’re more like business acquaintances. We’re clients. I mean, I’m not a client. You’re the client. My client.” Hallie hadn’t known she could talk this fast.

Christian stared at her in alarm, like he didn’t quite know what to do with the word vomit spewing from her. Apparently, he didn’t realize she could talk this fast either. He started to respond but her overworking mouth cut him off before he could utter a word.

“Technically, you did take over my website. So maybe I’m your client after all? ”

Just. Stop. Talking.

“I’ll do the dishes.” She stood abruptly. Too abruptly. Her thigh knocked against the metal expander on the underside of the table. She sucked a breath in through her teeth as her skin throbbed out a steady pulse in time with her heart .

Christian’s brows pulled together as he watched her carefully. “Are you … okay?”

“Yep. Perfect.”

She set her plate on top of the saucepan soaking inside the sink. Was she okay? Physically, sure, despite the mark that would surely greet her when she changed her clothes tonight.

Emotionally? It was too soon to tell. She threw on the faucet to rinse her plate.

Christian joined her at the sink. “Please, don’t clean up. I’ll handle the dishes later.” He ran a paper towel underneath the faucet once before wringing out the excess.

Returning to the table, he began wiping Penelope’s cheeks. The girl squirmed away from her father’s attempts to clean her.

“You happen to be looking at an expert busser. Are these clean?” She yanked open the door to the dishwasher to find a chaotic jumble of kids’ plates and cups on the top rack.

A few child utensils stuck out haphazardly from the container in the center.

It looked like an explosion went off in there.

She tossed Christian an exasperated side eye.

At least he had the decency to appear ashamed. “Yes, but really, you don’t have to clean up.”

Oh yeah, she did. Someone had to save him from himself. Who loaded the dishwasher like this?

On the other hand, at least he had one flaw. Between his gorgeous looks, brains, and mad dad skills, Hallie had begun to think the man was perfect.

“And you didn’t have to feed me.” She pulled out the bottom rack and found a similar arrangement as the top with larger plates and bowls. “It’s the least I can do. Besides, my mom owns a café but hates doing dishes, so she always left them to the rest of us. It’s second nature to me. ”

“We grew up with similar childhoods then. My mom cooked, and my sister and I had to clean up afterward.” Christian tossed the soiled paper towel onto his plate and turned to Isla. “If you’re done, take your dishes to the sink please.”

Hallie stacked four cereal bowls on top of each other. “Where do these go?”

“To the left of the fridge,” he said, freeing Penelope from her booster. Setting her on the floor, he crossed to the dishwasher and plucked the silverware tray from the bottom rack.

Hallie slid the bowls into the cabinet he’d indicated. “And did your after-dinner cleanups turn into impromptu dance parties? Because ours always did.”

Those were some of her favorite memories. So much laughter and joy occurred during times her family spent together, even doing monotonous activities.

“Huh,” Christian muttered, his back to her. “I’ve never pictured Tyler as a dancer.”

“Would you believe he’s better than me?” Hallie chuckled. “I have zero rhythm.”

“Daddy can dance,” Penelope said from the corner of the kitchen where she’d flung herself onto the dog’s bed. Thankfully, the retriever—Princess Pumpkin, as Hallie had learned—was still in the backyard.

Christian whirled to face his daughter, his movement punctuated by clattering metal. “Where’d you hear that, sweetheart?”

Isla spoke for her. “Grandma told Aunt Dani she misses watching you dance. The last time we went to her house.”

His mouth puckered into a grimace, and he returned to sorting the last of the silverware.

Hallie didn’t have time to contemplate his odd reaction before Penelope jumped up from the bed. Dog hair dotted her blue tunic and white-flowered leggings. “Let’s dance!” She extended her arms to the side and twirled.

“I’m sure Hallie doesn’t want to dance right now.” Christian flicked his gaze in her direction, his mouth set in a firm line. “Besides, there’s no music.”

As if on cue, Taylor Swift’s voice cut through the tension in the kitchen. Penelope squealed, her movements intensifying.

Christian’s head whipped to Isla holding his phone as he patted his back pockets. “Where’d you find that?”

“On the counter.” She set the device on the table before joining Penelope’s dance.

Christian turned back to the half-unloaded dishwasher, muttering under his breath.

Penelope hopped over to Hallie and reached up to her. “You dance. Like dis.” She demonstrated a little hip shimmy.

“Now, even I can do that.” Hallie laughed as she mimicked the movements.

At first, she felt silly showing off her lack of grace in front of Christian. Dancing with her family was one thing. They loved her no matter what. The man across the room, pointedly trying to ignore the rave taking over his house, proved an entirely different matter.

One look at Isla pushed all that aside, however. Her smile stretched wide as she let loose, a carefree expression easing the underlying suspicion she so often carried around Hallie.

“You dance too, Daddy!” Penelope hollered, twirling up to her father.

He eyed her, tension rounding his broad shoulders. His hands didn’t stray from the spaghetti pot rinsing under the water. “That’s okay, sweetheart. Someone needs to finish the dishes.”

Man, Hallie hadn’t seen him scowl like that since the day he’d come over to her house. Did he hate dancing that much?

The tinkling of Isla’s laughter cut through the music, which had changed to a Justin Bieber song. Instant surprise took over Christian’s face before transforming into something more tender as he eyed his daughter.

He was softening, Hallie sensed it. Maybe they could lighten him up even more. Ignoring her lack of dancing skills, she performed an atrocious moonwalk toward him, bumping his hip with her side. “ Come on, dance with us. Please? Just one song. You know you want to.”

He gave her a sidelong glance, and she alternated her arms up and down in a fluid wave. Jutting her hips from side to side, she probably looked more like she’d been electrocuted than anything. The thin line of his mouth ticked up in the barest of smiles.

Totally worth the embarrassment. Any minute, he’d crack.

“Hey, if I’m forced to make a fool of myself with my two left feet, I should be able to see these amazing dance skills you’re rumored to have.” She swallowed the laugh bubbling up from her gut.

His smile grew as he obviously struggled to hold back his amusement. “Flattery doesn’t work on me.”

“How about the pouty face?” She stuck out her bottom lip.

The debate clearly raged in his head as he watched her for a drawn-out second. Finally, when Justin proclaimed himself gone in the last strains of “Baby,” Christian gave a dramatic sigh and flipped off the faucet.

Drying his hands on the towel hanging from the oven, he held out his arm as the musical vibe switched from playful to reflective and gentle, with Jason Mraz’s voice taking center stage in the kitchen.

Wait, what? He wanted to dance with her?

She stared at his outstretched hand, Tyler’s warning ringing in her head.

I don’t want you getting hurt. And then directly after: I’m watching you both.

She suspected getting up close and personal with his best friend fell under the category of getting too close.

“Do it!” Penelope giggled, her hands clutched in her sister’s as they half danced, half watched the scene unfolding before them. “Dance with Daddy!”

“I have no rhythm,” she warned. She’d leave the rest of her hesitations out of it. “I’d probably step on your feet.”

He moved toward her, his hand still extended. “You wanted to dance, so let’s dance.”

She hesitated another second as Jason crooned “I Won’t Give Up” around them.

Could one dance really be so tragic? Tyler wasn’t here, and Christian’ s walls were actually coming down. Who knew, maybe these moments would become a regular thing in this house. If sharing one slow dance helped him connect with his daughters, was there really any harm in the long run?

Isla bounced up and down, flapping her arms. “Dance with him, Hallie.”

Her encouragement sealed Hallie’s decision, and she set her hand in his. He stepped closer, placing her left hand onto his upper arm before sliding his to her back, right below her shoulder blade. Her skin scorched at his touch.

Slowly, he swayed to the music, getting her used to the movement of the song. At the chorus, he guided them into a simple waltz. Only two steps in, her toes jammed into his. He winced.

Hallie jumped out of his hold. “Sorry. Two left feet, remember?”

He reached for her again. “Just relax and follow my lead.”

She took a breath and stepped back into his hold.

At first, she clung to him, not trusting her own abilities to carry her through the length of the song.

But as they flowed in rhythm to the music, Christian’s murmured instructions helped Hallie relax.

The fluidity of his movements, the confidence of his steps invited her to trust him.

In his arms, she knew exactly where he was leading her, pushing her to do more, give more, be more.

All the while, her heart urged her not to tread lightly.

It urged her to take a flying leap.

Into what? Her logical side feared the answer. But her heart refused to let go of this feeling. Like floating on air.

Her heart raced much faster than the beat of the music. His intoxicating scent swirled around her, making her lightheaded. And when was the last time she took a breath?

Dancing with Christian was a full body experience, each of her senses stimulated to maximum level through the remainder of the dance. As the song played its final gentle chord, he tightened his hold on her back and slowly lowered her into a dip.

Hallie squeaked in surprise, and she clung to his neck as if she’d land flat on her back if she let go even a little.

Then a quiet hush fell over the room, that brief pause before a new melody began.

Isla and Penelope stilled, seemingly aware that something was happening, though too young to grasp exactly what.

Hallie wasn’t sure herself, only that something had shifted. Slowly, her eyes rose from his neck to his face, locking on his piercing, soulful eyes that in the moment held nothing but warmth. And maybe a little fear.

Yep, there was definitely some fear there.

His gaze flitted to her mouth, then back up to her face. Is he going to kiss me? Did she want him to?

The magical moment poofed into nothing the instant Christian raised her back to standing and stepped away. “I think that’s enough dancing for one night.” He turned away from her.

Confused at the mixture of disappointment and relief at his sudden distance, Hallie took a deep breath.

“Where’d you learn to waltz?” she asked.

The confidence in his steps, the way he’d positioned their hands, and the grace in which he’d carried himself spoke of more than just a basic knowledge of the dance.

“Ballroom,” he mumbled.

“What?” Did she hear him correctly?

He swiveled around again. “I was on the ballroom team in college.”

She coughed, reeling back her surprise at his odd look. “You were?”

“Why is that so shocking?”

Hallie crossed the room to stand next to him as the girls resumed their dancing. “I just took you as more of the nerdy type. Or a jock. I hadn’t decided which.” She smiled at his sudden crack of laughter.

“I am a big nerd.” He flashed her a self-deprecating look. “But I like sports too. Growing up, I wanted to play hockey. So naturally, my mom put me in ballroom lessons instead.”

“I’m sure your teeth thank her,” Hallie said.

His smoldering half-smirk sent her heart racing again. “I think they’re more grateful for the four years of braces.”

“Four years? Yikes. ”

His laughter sliced through the last bit of tension in the room. “Yeah. The teenage stage wasn’t kind to me.”

The years were kind to him now. Way too kind. “It seems she made the right call.”

Christian shrugged. “It was fun while it lasted.”

“While it lasted?” she repeated. “You don’t dance anymore?”

His forehead creased as pain flashed across his handsome face. And then, just as quickly, he steeled his composure once again. “No. Not with all the baggage.”

She pondered that through the rest of dinner cleanup.

Her mind momentarily dropped it when Penelope insisted she only wanted Hallie to help her get ready for bed.

She couldn’t pinpoint why the toddler had latched onto her so quickly, but Hallie was finding it impossible not to give the adorable girl everything she wanted.

But when Hallie finally made her escape—was escape the right word when she was actually enjoying herself?—Christian’s words latched onto her brain again.

Too much baggage? What did that mean? What could’ve possibly caused him to abandon something he was obviously so good at?