Dancing in Lake Mistletoe (Lake Mistletoe #4)

Chapter Eleven

Mindi

W e walk down the sidewalk to a wine bar. Dutch opens the door and leads me inside.

He is greeted by a few of the patrons as he ushers us to a small table by the fireplace.

“Do you like red?” he asks.

“Yes. Pinot is my favorite.”

He orders a bottle for the two of us, and a sweet lady brings it over and opens it. Dutch does a quick tasting before giving his approval. She then pours us each a glass and leaves the bottle on the table for us.

I sit across from him, the soft glow of candlelight flickering between us. There’s a warmth here—not just from the heat of the fireplace, but also from the easy, quiet connection we’ve had all evening. The conversation has flowed effortlessly, surprising me in the best way. For someone so rooted in practicality, Dutch has a way of making me laugh, of making me feel at ease. We chat casually about the town’s holiday traditions and the preparations that will begin tomorrow, but I’m curious about what Dutch does for a living. He mentioned he’s an electrical engineer, which is why he was brought in to work on the sets for the theater, but we haven’t gotten into the details yet. And I want to know more—to know him.

“So,” I say, leaning in just slightly, my chin resting on my hand, “you’re an electrical engineer, huh? What’s that like? It sounds … complicated.”

He chuckles, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “It can be, but I like it. It’s not as fancy of a career as ballet,” he adds with a teasing smile, “but it keeps me busy.”

I shake my head. “Trust me, ballet isn’t always as fancy as it sounds. Lots of sweat and sore, busted feet behind all the pliés and applause.”

“I bet.” He grins, then pauses for a moment, as if considering how to explain what he does. “Well, electrical engineering is mostly about solving problems. A lot of it comes down to figuring out how to make things work the way they’re supposed to. You know, electricity runs through pretty much everything—buildings, machines, systems—and it’s my job to make sure that everything is connected right, that it’s safe and efficient.”

I nod, trying to picture it. “So, you design things? Like the wiring in buildings?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” he says. “But it’s more than just wiring. It’s also about power distribution, making sure everything gets the right amount of electricity without overloading the system. I’ve worked on all kinds of projects—industrial sites, homes, even some renewable energy systems.”

“Renewable energy?” I ask, my curiosity piqued. “That sounds important.”

“Yeah, when I lived in Boston, I was involved with one of the largest projects in the northeast, that is, before I decided to moved back home full-time.”

His expression changes slightly—like this is a subject he’s particularly passionate about, but it’s also a little painful. “Renewable energy is the future, you know? Solar power, wind turbines, stuff like that. I’ve worked on a few systems involving solar panels, helping design them to efficiently convert sunlight into electricity for homes or businesses. It’s not always easy though. You have to account for a lot of variables—how much sunlight a place gets, how the system connects to the power grid, and making sure it’s cost-effective for the client. But when it works, it’s worth it. When you’re a part of something that helps the environment, it feels good.”

I sit back for a moment, letting that sink in. “I guess I never really thought about all the logistics behind something like solar power. I always just imagined the panels sitting there, soaking up the sun.”

He chuckles. “That’s the goal, but there’s a lot that goes into making sure those panels can actually power something. It’s kind of like a dance in a way—everything has to be perfectly in sync for the whole system to work. If one part’s off, the whole thing can fall apart.”

I smile at the comparison. “That makes sense. In ballet, even the smallest detail—how you hold your arms, the angle of your foot—can throw off an entire performance if it’s not right.”

Dutch nods. “I imagine it takes a lot of discipline. Ballet seems so precise, so controlled.”

“It is,” I say. “It’s a lot of repetition, a lot of doing the same move over and over until it’s perfect. And even then, you’re always finding something you can improve. It can be frustrating, but there’s also something really satisfying about finally nailing a move you’ve been working on for weeks.”

He nods, his elbows resting on the table. “I get that. It’s the same with my work sometimes. You can spend days troubleshooting a problem, testing different solutions, and nothing works. Then, finally, you figure it out, and everything clicks into place. It’s like a puzzle you’ve been trying to solve, and when you get it right, it feels good.”

“Yeah, but you’re helping people get energy in a cleaner way. That’s much more impressive.”

“Well, I was doing that,” he corrects.

“And now?”

He sighs. “And now, I work with the town to keep things running efficiently right here in Lake Mistletoe.”

I tilt my head, studying him for a moment. “What brought you back?”

“Josie,” he says softly. “When my wife died, she was just a tiny thing. I was scared to death. Being a dad is easy when you have a good woman by your side, but I didn’t have a clue what I was doing with a baby girl on my own. Plus, the job was demanding, and she deserved a present father. So, I decided to move back. It’s been good for Josie to be close to my parents and the rest of my family. Me too. And the community welcomed us with open arms. Besides, there is plenty to keep me busy around here. I’m basically the guy when it comes to all things electric.”

I smile at his levity. It’s obvious a part of him misses the work he did back in Boston, but he’s content here, and Josie is thriving.

“They’re lucky to have you,” I say, reaching across the table and covering his hand with mine. “I’d be terrible at that. I don’t have the patience to deal with technology.”

Dutch laughs, shaking his head. “You might be surprised. You deal with your body as your instrument, and that takes a lot of patience. Working with technology is just different. It’s less physical, but it still requires the same focus.”

“That’s true,” I say, thinking about the long hours I spend in the studio. “But you seem to have a good balance of both—being practical but also creative. I’ve watched you on set. You have a flair for design.”

He shrugs, a modest smile tugging at his lips. “I guess that’s one way to look at it. I like problem-solving. Whether it’s figuring out how to run power to a town or building something with my hands, I like a project that keeps me on my toes.”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s just a different kind of choreography.”

His eyes flicker to mine, and there’s a moment of understanding between us.

“Maybe you’re right,” he says, his voice low. “I guess we’re both just trying to make things work as smoothly as possible, whether it’s on a stage or with a circuit board.”

I laugh softly. “Exactly. Who knew ballet and electrical engineering had so much in common?”

He grins. “Maybe we’ll have to swap jobs for a day, see how the other half lives.”

I give him a playful look. “Oh, I’d pay good money to see you in a leotard.”

“Is that right?”

I nod as I bite the corner of my lip. “Of course, I doubt we have one that would fit over your thighs.”

Heat sparks behind his eyes as he leans in closer. “You been checking out my legs?”

I glance away as I mutter, “Maybe.”

He chuckles, the deep sound mingling with the quiet hum of the bar around us. There’s something so easy about this moment, the way we can talk about our very different worlds and find common ground. I feel a little flutter of excitement at the thought of getting to know him even more, of seeing where this spark between us could lead.

A holiday fling with a sexy mountain man doesn’t sound like a bad way to spend my time here in Idaho.

Not bad at all.