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unless he turned around to face him. The nape of his neck tingled. “I saw on the board tonight is the fox-trot. What about rehearsal?”
    “Yeah.” Rafael’s voice went rough on the word. He shifted position, and the sofa creaked a bit. “The kids are going to be put through their paces by my mother tonight. Except for Amy—that’s our clockwork dancer. Unlike the regular dancer, she is nervous enough that it shows. So after my class I have to try to calm her down, give her some extra practice.”
    “Won’t you be tired?” Chico didn’t think there were dance classes in the morning, but he’d heard music when he’d come in, so someone had been dancing somewhere.
    “Can’t say no to the tourist dollars, and the ballroom classes, which are pay as you go, are very profitable and enable us to do things like have ballet classes for the kids who love it but could never afford to study someplace else.” He could imagine Rafael shrugging, as if that wasn’t a big deal. “Luckily it’s the fox-trot, not the Charleston. I’m more worried about Amy anyway. What are you planning on doing to that costume? Can you really embroider? Where did you learn to do that?”
    “Why are you worried about her?” Chico sidestepped the personal questions. He’d talked about himself enough, and the idea of explaining he was self-taught to someone who had studied and trained hard to be good at what they did made him want to squirm.
    “She’s graduating high school in a few weeks and then going across the country for college. But she’s never really been outside of this very small town. Add to that the pressure of dancing the title role of this ballet… she’s putting too much pressure on herself to not let the anxiety show, but it’s going to. No matter how controlled the dancer, something always shows. They’re only human, despite what they tell themselves.”
    Rafael’s even, measured tone was as gentle as fingertips at the top of Chico’s spine. Chico regretted wearing a thin, white athletic tee and his collection of silver necklaces. Between that and the measuring tape he’d draped around his neck earlier, which moved when he did, he felt like he’d displayed his skin on purpose.
    Which was stupid because dancers displayed skin all the time. Rafael was showing more than he was. Chico imagined him draped across the sofa, arms bare, legs open, one foot on the ground, and began to strip away the hastily glued-on embroidery. He could fix it later. What else did he have to do with his nights?
    “Controlled,” Chico mused, only a little breathless. “That’s a good word to describe your dancers.” And Rafael as well. He was the opposite of Chico. “That must be nice. She’ll listen to you, though. You’re a good, I mean, you seemed like a good teacher to me, from what I saw the other night. And what I saw in your waltz class, although I know I wasn’t there for long.”
    “You’re welcome to come back,” Rafael offered, without a trace of a smile in his husky voice. That came a moment later, when he went light and teasing. “I promise not to show you off in front of everyone again, cross my heart. Not unless you want me to.”
    “Oh God.” Chico had to fight not to turn around. He touched his stinging cheek and flicked another look out the door. He felt like a teenager with a boy in the house, although his mother had never thought to demand he leave the door open like she had with his sisters. “I’m blushing,” he murmured at last. He was smiling too, and jittery with excitement and nerves. “You’re very good at this.”
    “Is that okay?” If Rafael’s gaze was anything close to as warm as his tone, Chico was better off keeping his eyes on his work. “After what you said the other night, I thought you might not mind.”
    “No. No, it’s….” Chico took a deep breath. “It’s been a long time since someone bothered to tease me like that.” With interest and attention, which was something he