The Dancing Groom: Royal Palm Resort (Brady Brother Romances Book 3)

by Taylor Hart

  Clyde frowned. “Fine.”

  His wife, Cynthia, took his hand. “Will you stop acting like a ninny? You’re stuck with me, and I’ve told you I hate those things.”

  Clyde grunted. “Yes, dear.”

  She laughed.

  As Addison held her hands out in “dance position” to Mr. Baxter, Boston snuck in and took her hand. “Sorry, sir, she’s my partner.” He stared into her eyes. “Not getting away from me that easy.”

  Boston. Her heart raced.

  Mr. Baxter threw up his hands. “Well, then who’s my partner?”

  Shelly moved next to them. “Oh,” she said, looking all dreamy-eyed at Boston. “Um, we were going to switch partners today.”

  Boston shook his head at Shelly. “No, that’s not gonna work. See, I got used to her. And I have issues, so I need the same partner.”

  Shelly gave him a confused look.

  Ty appeared next to them, frowning at his brother. “He does have issues. Sorry, he needs her.”

  Boston scowled. “Unless she doesn’t want me.” He hesitated, turning to look at Addison.

  Addison’s temper threatened to flare up. Why was this guy causing a scene?

  “It’s not that,” Shelly said, trying to get his attention. “Sometimes we swap partners.”

  Ty pointed at Addison. “You got a problem with my brother?”

  The whole classroom went quiet. She felt herself suddenly laughing at how ridiculous this whole thing was. Sometimes you either had to laugh or cry, and tears would just turn this scene into a bigger drama show. “I don’t have a problem with you,” she said to Boston, and then she told the truth. “Shelly asked to be your partner. I guess she really does know all about the ‘Freight Train.’”

  “What am I, chopped liver, as the kids say?” Mr. Baxter called out, throwing up his arms and looking upset.

  “Are you being mean to my husband?” Mrs. Baxter appeared next to Ty, but raised an eyebrow at Shelly.

  “Not at all,” said Shelly, taking Mr. Baxter’s arm. “We both want to be your husband’s partner, but one of us has to dance with Mr. Brady.”

  Mr. Baxter smiled. “You both want to be my partner?”

  Shelly nodded. “Looks like I’m the lucky one tonight.” She led him a few steps away to an open spot on the floor.

  Ty took Mrs. Baxter’s hand. “Let’s do this.” He turned back to Boston. “We have dinner with the Baxters tonight, by the way.”

  Mrs. Baxter smiled at Boston. “Yes, you do.”

  Boston quirked the side of his lip up, looking uncomfortable. “Sounds good.”

  Out of the blue, Addison found herself laughing.

  “What?” Boston asked. “You think dinner is funny?” He narrowed his eyes at her, then put out his hand. “What do you say? Dance with me?”

  It was stupid and confusing, but his question sounded sincere.

  Addison glanced back at Shelly, who gazed at Boston with stars in her eyes, but she was all set with Mr. Baxter. Addison took Boston’s hand. “Okay.”

  “Let’s start,” Christian called out.

  The music came on.

  Boston grinned but started into the moves with ease. He was pretty good. “I thought you were ditching me,” he scoffed. “Wasn’t it enough you tried to break my foot yesterday?”

  Unable to stop herself, she smiled. “I did get you pretty hard.”

  He pumped his eyebrows at her, and then he took over as the lead, guiding her into another complicated cha-cha step.

  “Okay, everyone,” Christian called out. “You’re doing good, but—” He went silent.

  Addison glanced at Christian, wondering what was wrong with him.

  Christian was staring at Boston with a quizzical look on his face.

  She had to focus. Keeping up with Boston wasn’t hard for her, but they didn’t know each other as partners and she wasn’t sure what his pressure meant yet.It had been years since she’d met a new dancing partner, especially one with the versatility and footwork to make it interesting.

  This was dancing! The thrill of being right on that edge, moving with the music and following where it and your partner took you. There were no pre-rehearsed moves and no idea where they would go next. It was pure dancing, and she could feel her soul stretching out like a seedling for sunlight after a long, long winter.

  “Okay,” called Christian, changing the song after a couple of minutes. “Time for country swing dancing.”

  Addison was out of breath, and the smile on her face was not forced in the slightest. If it was up to her, that cha-cha would have lasted another hour or so.

  “Wahoo!” called Ty. He did a silly click of his heels, and the whole class laughed. “My kinda of music, baby.”

  Addison shook herself and turned away from Boston, but not before catching the knowing look in his eyes. He knew full well that she’d just experienced something special.

  Christian grinned at Ty. “I actually thought we’d start with this song.”

  A song came on, one that she’d never heard. Boston burst out laughing as Ty dramatically let out a redneck “yippee!” It must be one of his songs, Addison realized. Another thing Shelly had told her about.

  “No regrets, baby!” Ty moved toward Boston. They did a chest bump.

  The older people in the class pointed and chuckled at the brothers’ exuberance.

  It was something to see—a pair of brothers facing down a debilitating disease and living life to the fullest. Minutes ago, Addison had let her relatively minor setback ruin her day.

  The happiness buzzing around inside her was impossible to deny. Man, these guys were a show.

  Boston moved back to her, taking her hands and starting into some moves.

  “Don’t let him get away with the two-step,” Ty told her. “It’s swing, bro. Swing!”

  Christian laughed. “Let’s swing, people!” He took another dancer into his arms. “Watch while we demonstrate.”

  Addison moved Boston toward the back of the class, not wanting to wait. “You’re a quick study, catch on.”

  She took the lead, easily tutoring him though the moves. After showing him each step once, Boston picked it up and they moved on to the next one. By the time Christian was done showing the rest of the class two basic steps, Boston had picked up a dozen.

  Christian put a new song on. “Okay, here ya go. Dance away.”

  Addison counted down. “One, two, three—”

  “I got this,” he said, and finished. “—six, seven, eight.”

  Boston led, and she had to hop to keep up. Almost immediately, he went for an advanced move, the table top. For the first few spins and ducks, he was right on. At the end, he over-rotated and they spun apart.

  “Close,” she said, hardly able to believe he’d gotten so much of it down.

  Frustration showed on his face, but he smiled at her excitement. “Okay, let’s try this one.” He led her into the pretzel and actually got it pretty smoothly.

  They did a few simple moves, and he asked her to teach him the table top one more time. She walked him through it, he counted down, and after a couple of steps to get the rhythm, he took her through the table top almost flawlessly.

  “You’re quite good, a fast learner,” she said reflexively, all of her dance tutoring coming out before she had a chance to stop it.

  “Don’t give me compliments. I’m a complete jerk.”

  She laughed. “That’s true.”

  They danced to a few more songs, and Addison was just able to sit back and take the ride. No pressure to lead or teach. She found herself really enjoying it.

  Whenever she caught a glimpse of Shelly leading Mr. Baxter through the basic step, she could tell Shelly was not pleased with how things had ended up.

  When the music stopped, Boston squeezed her hand before releasing it. “Thanks. I’m glad you weren’t really ditching me.” His aqua eyes were much too deep; she needed to swim away quickly.

  She smiled back, feeling the
blush on her cheeks.

  “See you all tomorrow,” Christian told the class. He turned toward her and Boston. “Mr. Brady, could I talk to you for a second?”

  Boston blinked in surprise. “Sure.”

  Addison didn’t know what Christian wanted to talk about, but with the way her heart was racing and her eyes had a hard time staying off of Boston, she was happy for the distraction.

  “Thank you,” Boston said, holding her gaze and smiling. “It was actually kinda fun.”

  She just smiled at him. She didn’t dare admit how high she’d flown.

  “Oh, hold up,” Christian said, taking her bicep lightly. “I want you to be in on this talk too.”

  Unrest pulsed through her. Something was coming, and she didn’t know how to prepare.

  “Yeah,” Boston agreed with Christian.

  “Yeah.” Ty popped over his shoulder.

  Christian looked nervous “Okay, so, I was supposed to dance with Addison for that dance tryout she has coming up, but …” He looked uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable as Addison felt.

  “No, Christian,” she said before he could finish.

  “What?” Boston asked, looking between them.

  Christian sighed. “I just … Mr. Brady, you’re good. Like, no offense, I’m surprised at how good you are. Would you be willing to do the tryout with her?”

  “What?” The word came from Addison’s and Boston’s mouths simultaneously.

  Ty’s body shook with laughter. “Yeah! I’m totally texting the bros right now!” He took off out of the room.

  “He’s not a dancer.” Addison’s eyes pleaded with Christian.

  Christian gestured to him. “But he’s here and he’s good. And I could work with him if he’ll do it.”

  “Why would he do it?” she said, a tad too loud. “He’s here for his …” She trailed off, glancing at Boston. “He didn’t come to The Palm to do some pity party dance tryout.”

  Boston nodded, his chest puffing out. “That’s true. I’m not here for a dance tryout.”

  Christian frowned. “I know, but could you do it? Do you have time?”

  Boston hesitated.

  “No,” Addison said. It hurt enough to have an opportunity ripped away from her. Adding rejection from this self-centered guy to the list did not sound like fun.

  Christian flung a hand out. “Look, you need someone and there’s not a professional dancer who can match your schedule and do the tryout. He’s good and you know it. He’s not trying out, but he’s good enough to be your support partner. He’s strong and quick.”

  Addison had been knocked down by Boston once; she wasn’t about to let him knock her down again. Not here, where it mattered most. Dancing with him had been exhilarating; she couldn’t deny it. She’d felt things that she hadn’t felt since—

  “No,” said Addison, shaking her head vigorously. “He’s a football player, not a dancer.”

  Boston gave her a sour-grapes little shrug. “She said it. I’m a football player, not a dancer.”

  She didn’t like his tone; he made “dancer” sound like an insult. “Right. And he might be okay, but he’s not company good.” She turned to Christian, wanting him to agree with her.

  Christian gave her a determined look, then exhaled. “Whatever. I was just trying to help.”

  Boston still had his arms crossed. He was intently focused on her all of a sudden, and it unnerved her. He’d heard the compliments she’d given him and seen right through her.

  He frowned. “Do you want me to do it?”

  Addison floundered for a moment, humiliated and embarrassed. “Uh, no.” She gestured to Boston, reluctantly meeting his eyes again. “I’d hate to think of what your football buddies would say,” she scoffed. Shelly was never going to let her hear the end of turning down his offer, no matter how insincere it was.

  “Huh, true,” he said, his lips tight.

  This man was still peering at her with those intense eyes of his, making her feel vulnerable. He had some nerve to straight out ask her if she wanted him to do it! Like he was some genie in a bottle who could grant her a wish. The more she thought about it, the dumber it sounded, and she was mad at Christian for even bringing it up. Tears misted into her eyes. “I’m better off going solo.”

  Boston winced, and she sensed a hint of loss in the gesture. Just as soon as the look had appeared, it was gone, and he was moving toward the door. “Then we’re agreed.”

  Chapter 9

  Boston sat next to Ty at the ALS facility, in the lobby of Dr. Cruz’s office. Ty’s leg bounced in staccato pulses, making the whole bench vibrate. Boston didn’t complain; he knew Ty was a bottle of nervousness. The only thing that could calm Ty even a little bit was when he strummed his guitar and sang it out loud and proud. Of course, that was only when he took two seconds to chill out, which they’d done very little of since arriving.

  The songs Ty had written on the No Regrets album were different from any music he’d done before. Not country, per se. Well, Ty argued they were new country. Like Texas Waters and Sloane Kent and Sam Hunt—whoever that was. Boston actually knew some of the songs now, because Ty played them incessantly.

  Ty turned to him. “So are you going to do that dance tryout?”

  Boston didn’t really want to talk about that, but it was better than talking about why they were in this office. “No. Football player, remember? I gotta stay focused this month. Gotta keep in shape. Got a lot to prove to the Surf.” Or the Wave, possibly.

  Ty sighed. “Right, yeah, you’re supposed to work on agility and blah blah blah.” He brought his hand next to his head to make a “mind blown” gesture. “And all the other crap you were telling me the other day when I threw you in the hot tub.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “That was seriously so funny.” Ty burst out laughing, holding his phone in the air. “Rice!”

  Again, Boston wanted to throttle him, but he resisted. The imitation was actually pretty funny.

  “Ah,” Ty sighed. “But dancing would help, right? Didn’t I hear you talk about how when you were in college, in the advanced ballroom, your game had never been better?”

  Truth be told, Boston had been thinking about it. Specifically, he’d thought of Addison. She’d shone so brightly when they danced together. He remembered her sadness and anger when Christian had brought up a partnership, and how she had pushed Boston away right when he was considering helping her out.

  Without realizing it, he had his phone in his hand and a feed of her videos pulled up.

  Ty leaned over his shoulder. “Oh yeah, click on that dance. That’s her husband, and he was a professional bull rider, but he totally sucked at dancing. Mrs. Baxter said Addison had done the impossible getting him past the first round, much less all the way to the top three couples.” Ty shook his head. “Man, that old lady can talk. Believe me, while you’ve been having all this tension-filled, high-performance stuff going on in the corner, pretty much in your own world with Ariel the mermaid …”

  Boston laughed. She kinda did remind him of Ariel.

  “… Mrs. Baxter keeps going on and on about how she watched all three of her seasons and she was really, really, good. And her husband actually proposed on the show.” Ty grinned stupidly. “Ahhh.”

  Another stab of jealousy hit Boston. He was happy for Addison, but he couldn’t deny that thinking of her with any other man made him jealous. “But they didn’t win the competition?” He knew the answer.

  “No.” Ty moved back to his own space. He bent forward, shaking his head and studying the white tiles in the linoleum floor. “This is taking forever.”

  Boston knew Ty was nervous. He was nervous, too.

  Ty let out a long breath. “This was a mistake. I knew it was. You guys pushed, but look at all the time we’re wasting.” He turned to Boston. “I could be doing something …”

  Boston put his hand up to stop the rant. “If you say living, I’m going to sock you one. I me
an it. Quit it. Quit being a big baby, and remember what Mom says, what she still tells us, about being grateful.”

  “Oh, don’t start on what Mom says.” Ty wagged a finger at Boston. “You sure didn’t want to hear about what she says about going to church on Sunday.”

  Boston put a finger up in the air, mimicking their mother’s piano teacher posture. “You show you are grateful to others by being thankful.”

  Ty scrunched up his brow and turned away from him.

  Feeling more self-righteous, Boston lit into him. “So be thankful we’re here. That your brothers care so much about you that we are trying to get the best, most cutting-edge help for you.” He jerked a finger toward the doctor’s office door. “This guy is the best. He’s in this fight. He’s cutting-edge. He’s gone through it, taken the hits.”

  “I know,” Ty said sullenly. “All of you have reminded me of that.”

  Boston sighed, wishing his brother would want a cure as much as the rest of them wanted a cure for him.

  Ty raked a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. “I am grateful.”

  Boston felt for his brother. Something was going on with him, some kind of emotional junk. They all had junk; it was just that most of the time they never dealt with the junk—especially each other’s.

  The door opened. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” the doctor said.

  Boston and Ty stood quickly. “It’s fine,” Boston said.

  Ty nodded, not saying anything.

  Dr. Cruz introduced himself and welcomed them into his office. It was on the eighth floor of the facility, which looked out at the ocean and the city. It wasn’t on a college campus, but it was right across the street, so Boston noted all the cars busily going past. This was a totally different feel from The Palm; that was for sure.

  Cruz was a large man. Boston sized him up at six-two, two-fifty. Not Brady tall by any means, but tall for the general populace. He had hair that parted in the middle and thin wire glasses that were halfway down his nose, but he didn’t seem like he would move them. He wore a suit. Not fancy, but professional.

  “Please sit.” Dr. Cruz gestured to the two chairs in front of his deep mahogany desk. The leather chairs had a custom-made feel. There were large bookshelves on the walls without windows, full of thick books that reminded Boston of his father’s office back home. That office was still there and had remained the same to this day, including the revolving globe that he remembered spinning and spinning and was surprised he never broke.