Rhythm & Blues

By Shae Connor

When life tears apart your dream, build a new one.

After a knee injury ended his career, Broadway dancer Pate Hawkins limped his way back from New York to Atlanta to implement Plan B: open a dance academy to train the next generation of song-and-dance dreamers. When model-gorgeous contractor Ace Samson answers his request for an estimate on renovating his studio space, Pate hits pay dirt in more ways than one. As construction gets underway, the red-hot attraction between the two men flares, and soon they develop a fledgling relationship. Then the siren song of the stage calls Pate back, and he has to choose between the dream he left behind and the new life he's building—with his studio, and with Ace.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shae Connor
• Release date: Jun 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533786586

Book preview

Rhythm & Blues

By Shae Connor

When life tears apart your dream, build a new one.

After a knee injury ended his career, Broadway dancer Pate Hawkins limped his way back from New York to Atlanta to implement Plan B: open a dance academy to train the next generation of song-and-dance dreamers. When model-gorgeous contractor Ace Samson answers his request for an estimate on renovating his studio space, Pate hits pay dirt in more ways than one. As construction gets underway, the red-hot attraction between the two men flares, and soon they develop a fledgling relationship. Then the siren song of the stage calls Pate back, and he has to choose between the dream he left behind and the new life he’s building—with his studio, and with Ace.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Rhonda, Trish, Mags, Barb, and Sarah for making the words pretty, AngstyG for making the cover pretty, and Nathan for making the inside pretty. Also thanks to William for tips and suggestions that saved me lots of time and headaches.

Pate Finley’s footsteps echoed in the open space of the building he’d just bought. Nearly fifteen thousand square feet of raw materials surrounded him, and despite the cobwebs in the corners and the anxiety gnawing at his gut, he smiled.

Yeah, he breathed into the dusty but certified asbestos-free air. The place just felt right, deep in his bones. The same way dance had from the time he’d walked into his first studio at the tender age of ten.

He spun on one heel, ignoring the twinge in his knee, the constant reminder of what he’d never have again. He’d moved on, or so he told himself. Plan B was in full effect. All he needed now was a contractor to make it all real.

He checked the time on his phone. Still a few minutes until the first estimate guy was due, so he wandered the floor while he waited, pausing to inspect the exposed-brick wall at the far end of the former factory space. That, he planned to leave as-is. The other walls, nothing but crumbling concrete and slapdash plaster, would be rebuilt. The concrete under his feet would be topped with hardwood for the lobby and restrooms, but in the studio rooms, it would be the special rubberized flooring needed to cushion hard-working feet.

He closed his eyes and pictured the finished space, shiny and new, floors and mirrors and barres gleaming. His own dance studio, Rhythm & Blues, finally open for business.

Hello? A deep, rumbly voice pulled Pate from his vision, and he turned toward the doorway to find a set of piercing blue eyes staring at him. The man wore jeans and work boots and had long, dirty-blond hair pulled up into a messy sort of ponytail, a full but neatly trimmed beard, and a body like Pate’s every wet dream come true.

Pate shook himself mentally and walked forward. Hi, thanks for meeting me. He held out a hand. Pate Finley. You’re from S&S?

The man nodded and reached for Pate’s hand, but his gaze never left Pate’s face. Pate fought back a sudden urge to hide from that frank appraisal.

Ace, the man said. Ace Samson.

Pate let out a nervous chuckle. I should’ve known by the hair.

Ace paused for a moment and then laughed too, the tension between them breaking as he dropped Pate’s hand. Yeah, well. He waved his fingers over the pile on his head. Once it gets like this, you kind of have to just commit to it, you know?

Pate wore his own brown hair closely cropped to keep the curl under control, but he nodded anyway. Nerves crept in as he turned toward the open room, and he stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets.

So, this is the place. He shrugged. I know it doesn’t look like much now. But then.... He glanced at Ace. That’s why you’re here, right?

Ace gave him a small smile. You don’t remember me.

Well, he didn’t expect that. Uh... no, I don’t think so. Pate studied Ace’s face. Should I?

Ace laughed outright. I don’t know why I’d think you would. I was pretty much Steve Rogers’ before picture back then. I was two years behind you at Westside. He named the arts magnet school Pate had graduated from seven years earlier. Still going by Horace then, too. You were gone by the time I, um... matured.

Pate bit his lip as he gave Ace a good once-over from head to toe. I’m sorry I missed it.

Ace’s cheeks turned pink above his beard, and he looked away. Well, um... He cleared his throat. You want to make a dance studio out of all this?

Pate let the flirting go—not without noting that, despite the deflection, Ace didn’t seem to mind—and turned back to business. For the moment.

Three studios, actually. He waved toward the far end. About three thousand square feet each. Lobby, changing space and restrooms, offices, storage. He turned his head up. The ceiling is twenty-five feet, and the studios will need as much of that as we can keep and still have some soundproofing to keep the upstairs neighbors happy.

Ace had pulled a notepad and pencil out from somewhere and was scribbling notes. How close to square should the studios be?

Pretty close. Pate gestured toward the far side of the room, with the brick wall. I’d like to have a larger studio against the far wall, with the mirror and barre opposite the brick. Maybe four thousand for that one. The whole space is fifty by three hundred, so if we did fifty by eighty there, and then restrooms and changing rooms down one side and the other two studios on the other, hallway in between.

He glanced over to see Ace sketching out what Pate was describing. Or if the space doesn’t work for that, the changing rooms could go between the studios. But I’m thinking soundproofing would be easier with the plumbing on the other side.

You’re probably right. Ace glanced up. The rest up front? Lobby and offices?

Yeah. Pate walked toward Ace, keeping his focus on the notebook, no matter how much his gaze wanted to wander. His body reacted anyway, warmth surging through him just from his proximity to Ace. I don’t need a huge amount of office space, but we’ll need a place to sign up students and such. Maybe one larger office with room for a small conference table, and then two or three smaller ones for instructors to share.

Got it. Ace wrote another note and then tapped a toe on the concrete floor. And special floor for the studios, those big mirrors, all that stuff.

And that’ll cost me, I know. Pate sighed and planted his hands on his hips. It’ll probably cost more than buying this place to get everything set up.

Cha-ching! Ace grinned again, and a zing shot down Pate’s spine. He couldn’t help smiling back. No problem. I don’t cut corners, but I do have ways to cut costs without losing anything. He ran his gaze around the space again. This is a great old building. Maybe recycled or upcycled fixtures? Recovered wood for the reception desk? You want it to look brand new but still blend in.

Pate already had S&S at the top of the short list of contractors just from the information he’d found online—he had two more estimators coming out the following day—and everything Ace said only served to cement the choice. Wouldn’t be bad eye candy to have him around for a couple of months, either.

Pate shoved his hands back into his pockets. What else do you need to know?

Ace flipped through his notes. "Let me take a look at the plumbing situation. Not the most fun to deal with, but