Dylan lifted a hand to say he was all good to Mr. Goldhirsh, who had also noticed him.

“No freeloaders,” Piper said. “In or out.”

Her eyes dared him to join in, and he had to say those leggings with geometric patterns did fairly spectacular things for her already spectacular legs. Her sweatshirt covered up pretty much everything else, but he had an imagination, and already knew what she had under there, because it had been pressed against him last night.

“Out,” he said, giving the dog a final pat. He shouldn’t have even come in here.

“Come now, young man.” An elderly lady left her line and came to him. “You’re obviously at a loose end, so come and do something useful with your time.”

“Useful?”

“Exercise. It will stimulate your brain and set you up for the day. I’m Pearl.”

She wore white tights and fluffy pink leg warmers with a long-sleeved shirt in red. An odd combination, but the woman rocked it.

“I’m....” His words fell away as she reached for his coat and started on the buttons. “No, really—”

“Hustle it along, boy. I don’t want to miss the next set. It’s to Patsy Cline, and she’s my favorite.”

He was stripped of his coat, not an easy feat as he topped her by several inches, then she took his arm and urged him to follow. He could stop—he had several pounds on her—but Dylan had always been taught to respect his elders, and wasn’t sure how to do so without hurting her.

“Follow our lead, Dylan,” Mr. Goldhirsh told him.

Christ!

“Seriously, this is not my thing. Two left feet—”

“Oh now come on, young man. A handsome face like you have deserves to have the moves to go with it. I’ll get behind you and check your form.”

Hoots of laughter followed these words and Dylan could feel the slow flush of heat filling his cheeks as two other women grabbed his hands and urged him to move with them.

“Ah, I don’t think this is me... really.” He tried again to get away. Panic was the only word for the emotion gripping him. He was out of his depth, and Dylan never, ever allowed that to happen. Control was important to him.

“Come on, honey, give it a go and loosen up. It’s all in the hips,” Pearl said. She then started singing ‘Back In Baby’s Arms.’ This he knew, as it was one of his mother’s favorites too. The Howard siblings had endured many hours of Patsy in their youth.

In seconds he was floundering around totally out of sync with the others in the class... all of whom had a good forty years on him.

“You need to relax, boy. You can’t dance with a pole up your—”

“Thank you, Pearl,” Piper interrupted. “I think Dylan gets the idea.”