by Taylor Hart
Addison burst out of the water right next to him, taking him by the shoulders and trying to pull him down. It was a futile attempt. The best tacklers in the world had a hard time getting him down. Addison would have to work harder than that to dunk him.
With dexterity he wouldn’t have predicted in the water, she spun behind him, popped both of his knees from behind, and rose up on his shoulders with all her weight. Boston actually dipped all the way down to his chin. Wow, he needed to be on his game with this woman or she’d surprise him. Reaching out, he grabbed for her.
She squealed and dove away.
It was invigorating to have her here in the water with him. Lana had never been this playful; she always seemed like she was one breakout picture away from going to the next level of modeling, so she had to keep herself perfect all the time.
Addison didn’t care about keeping herself perfect. Not in the water, not on the dance floor. Nothing about Addison was fake, and he’d seen plenty of her to know.
Of course, she had an amazing dancer’s body, and he tried to tamp down all the attraction he felt for her. Friend zone was the key phrase, at least for now. He could do that for a while.
Boston remembered watching all the YouTube videos of the season that she’d trained her husband. The guy had been tough, and he had a compelling story about growing up poor and working hard at bull riding. He’d used his money to save the family ranch when he was nineteen and won the PBR Championships.
It was cool. Boston could respect a guy like that.
Addison swam into deeper water, but Boston didn’t feel like going out there. He walked back to the beach and sat.
It wasn’t too long until she came out of the water and sat beside him. “Hey.”
He nodded. “You got tired of running away from me?”
She let out a breath and put her hands back, stretching her feet into the sand. “You got tired of chasing me.”
He grinned. “Naw, but let the record state that you came to me.”
She scoffed and nudged him with her shoulder. “So there’s a record?”
“Ah, no, not with you. There’s just … I don’t know, whatever this is.”
Her eyes met his, and she suddenly looked vulnerable.
He wanted to reach out and pull her closer, to reassure her. He wanted to gently press his lips to hers and feel if they were as soft as he’d imagined them to be.
She turned to face the ocean.
For a while, they both just sat there, staring at the waves.
Addison drew in the sand. “You’re not really what I thought you were,” she whispered.
“Oh, so you’re taking back all the selfish, entitled talk from that first day I met you.”
She sighed. “Let’s not go that far.”
He chuckled.
She breathed in deeply, and the moonlight lit up her skin. She always looked angelic, even when she wasn’t made up, put together, and dressed up. “You’re just … I don’t know. When you’re not being a jerk, you’re kinda a lot of fun.”
That meant more to him than she could imagine. “I’ll take your twisted compliment and see you with one of my own.”
She looked surprised and stopped drawing in the sand. “Okay.”
He met her eyes. “I watched your YouTube clips with you teaching others to dance, including Jason. You two looked good together.”
She stared back at him, silent.
“Tonight, when I watched you and Christian doing the routine, you just shone. I was thinking as I watched Dancing with the Stars that you were always focused on helping others shine, but Christian is good at highlighting your talent. It was different to see you really dance with a professional.”
Turning her attention back to the sand, she drew a circle. “Christian’s a pro, he knows how to do that.”
“I want to do that for you.” Where had that come from? Boston Brady hadn’t exactly been the kind of guy who put people first; his family was the exception, and only on very special occasions. Whether it was his image, playing time, contract negotiations, or relationships, he always thought he had to look out for number one. Dumping his social media and spending time with this amazing woman was doing strange things to him. He meant what he said to her more than he could explain.
She looked up. “Thank you.”
“I really do. You’re good.”
The edge of her lip turned up. The tension between them ratcheted up a notch. “For so long, I didn’t think that I would be a professional dancer again, but after everything, it was just … inside of me. And I couldn’t go back to normal life. Without Jason, nothing felt right.”
He looked out over the moon-tipped waves. “I know what you mean. It’s like football for me. Ty teases me that I can’t stop running drills, but it’s not about the drills—it’s about being the best.”
She flashed a grin. “Exactly.”
He put out his fist. “Team Adair, baby.”
She laughed, but her eyes fluttered.
“What’s wrong?”
“Yeah, it’s just … I haven’t had a team anything for a while. And don’t take this wrong, but I think I’m okay going solo for a bit.”
He studied her, wondering if he should argue that point. “Is that what you want? To be …”
His phone went off, and after holding her gaze for a second, he looked over at his bag, then back to her.
“Get it,” she said. “Someone’s texting you after midnight. It must be important.”
He rushed back to his bag.
“Who’s texting you this late, anyway? Ty?” She shook her head. “Never mind. That’s none of my business.”
He grabbed his phone. “It’s my brothers.” He sent a quick reply to the group, and three more texts came in. He pulled his gaze away from his phone. “Sorry, they want to know everything about Ty—wait, don’t go.”
She slipped on her cover and picked up her bag. “I need sleep if I’m running in the morning.”
That was hard to argue with. He still he didn’t want to see her go. “True.”
She took off down the beach, casting a smile at him over her shoulder, and it felt weird not to follow her.
“See you tomorrow, Adair.”
Chapter 14
Addison was shocked at how much her life had changed over five days. It was like she had juice in the morning again. She would jump out of bed at six with a smile when Boston pounded on her bungalow door to go running—much to Shelly’s chagrin.
By day four, Shelly’s infatuation for Boston was gone. She dragged herself to the door and yelled, “Don’t bang on the freaking door!”
Boston simply picked her up like a sack of potatoes and ran her, kicking and squealing, into the kitchen. “Don’t yell at a running back, or you’ll get taken to the end zone.”
Shelly wasn’t happy about the little show of power. She stomped off to her room, slamming the door. “I mean it. Quit waking up the whole apartment. You guys stay out till midnight, then you’re back at it by the butt crack of dawn.”
Boston only laughed and handed Addison the protein shake, the way he had for the last few days. “Drink up, then let’s run.”
“Are you ready for the talent showcase tonight?” she asked, excited for the people in the dance class who had worked so hard.
“Oh yeah. I’m excited to see how many times Mr. Baxter is going to sneak in a grab at Mrs. Baxter.”
She laughed. “Ty always acts jealous. It’s funny.”
The whole resort had heard about her tryout and her training with Boston, so all of them had taken to cheering them on all week. Boston didn’t know it yet, but they were actually doing their competition dance at the showcase, upon request from the Hamiltons, Baxters, and Olsens.
Boston took her glass and put it down. “No one’s going to run for us.”
Later that morning, Addison got to the dance studio early, put on music, stretched, then went through her fundamental moves. It was always soothing to get back to b
asics.
Boston would be arriving soon. He always came early to work through fundamentals with her. She stared in the mirror and noted that just thinking of the man could make her blush. That scared her. This juice that made life so livable wasn’t just for dance, though she wouldn’t admit it to him. Hopefully no one else saw how real it was. Juice could be dangerous, especially in doses this high.
The door opened and she knew it was Boston before she even turned. He wore the tights and an Under Armour shirt. It would look funny on anyone else; on him, it looked like someone had put modern clothes on a Greek statue. “Hey,” he said.
She shook herself out of staring at him, happy and vulnerable at the same time. So much juice. Clearing her throat, she managed, “Hey.”
He put his bag down and rushed to change his shoes. “You practicing without me?”
She sighed. “The music’s on and I can’t help myself.”
He stood and moved to her side. “I get it.”
The attraction sizzled between them when she saw the way he was looking at her. She’d always had people watching her—she was a dancer—but Boston had a different way of looking at her. Moving to her phone, she put on a warm-up playlist.
He faced the mirror and lifted his arms to stretch into the ballet positions.
“Lift,” she commanded. “Reach.” She put her hand in the middle of his shoulders.
Boston obediently straightened his torso.
“Always lifting,” she said, moving in front of him and copying his movement. She put her hand up and then leaned her head slightly to the side. “Lift is the most important thing in dance. We want to go up, soar, praise the sky, the sun.” She’d heard the words from her ballet teacher many years ago.
A small smile played at his lips, and he looked up. “Soar, fly, speed, agility. It’s like we’re speaking the same language.”
She fell into the ballet moves with him, easily going through the little routine she’d set up for him to get the fundamentals in. The song changed, and he continued. Casually, she moved behind him. “Tuck in the derriere, please.” She almost touched his butt, but she caught herself. Dang, what was she thinking? She focused upward. “Head long. Shoulders down. Dancer, not running back.”
“Head in the clouds, feet on the ground,” he said with a smile.
“Exactly.” She spread her arms, opening her center to the world, then let her hand swing across. “Follow through with the hand, long. Let the position carry you.”
He extended his fingers, allowing for a more fluid motion.
“Tummy tight,” she commanded, staying in instructor mode. “Lift, open, extend.”
It wasn’t like Boston had any tummy to tuck in, but it was all about the posture. And he was getting it. It’d been quick for him. Sure, he wasn’t a pro, but he might be able to be, she thought, finding it halfway amusing that this man had been able to throw himself into this and do so well. He was a natural. Christian had seen it before Addison ever did.
Her music changed to their routine song. Boston stopped the fundamentals and reached out, taking her hand and counting down. They fell into the steps they’d been practicing. Their movement went together easily, slipping into the rhythm. He was a more than an amazing dance partner. There was no doubt in her mind that if she’d had Boston Brady to work with on Dancing with the Stars, they would have won.
With his charisma, his touch of bad boy, his social media presence, and his brothers, it would have been an easy victory.
The merengue transitioned into a Viennese waltz, slowing it way down. He tugged her tighter into him but kept the movements of their legs fluid.
Being this close to Boston unsettled her again. For her entire life, she’d been able to separate dancing partners from all other men. On the dance floor it was professional, two people doing art together. The closeness of her body to her partner’s was exhilarating in a sports way, but never sensual. The only other time she’d ever felt anything romantic for a partner was … Well, it wasn’t like this.
She’d actually fallen in love with her husband while doing Dancing with the Stars, and Jason had been strong and handsome and good. In fact, she’d often teased him that she’d fallen for his good boy ways. It was the off-the-dance-floor Jason she’d fallen for.
With Boston, though … A guilty shiver of pleasure ran down her spine when she thought of how it felt to be held by him. How that invigorating juice flowed through her. How she just wanted—
Addison acted as if she missed a step and spun away from him, going to the music to start it over. Focus, Adair. You’re a dancer, not a fangirl.
“I decided something,” Boston said.
“Oh?” she said, her heart picking up speed.
“The power move, the Pamchenko, needs to go right here.” He released one of her hands and twirled her, then released her all the way. “You run offstage and come back for the lift; then I throw you again, and you twist and I catch you.”
She laughed, moving to the edge of the dance studio. “The Pamchenko isn’t a real move.”
He wagged his finger at her. “That’s it. We’re watching it tomorrow night, and you’re getting a refresher in it.” He gestured for her to come to him and barked in a Russian accent like the coach from Cutting Edge: “Come! We do the modified Pamchenko.”
She hesitated. “You throw me and then catch me? So technical.”
He grunted and stood in the center of the studio. “Come on. Let’s do the lift first.”
That was insane. Lifts were hard, and you couldn’t do them without training. “You haven’t even practiced it.”
“Yes, I have.” He tapped the side of his head. “In here.”
“In your mind?” she sputtered.
“It’s the best practice. Just ask any well-trained athlete: the best practice is in your mind.” The music ended, and he motioned her toward him. “Come on, come at me and I’ll lift you. I won’t throw you—this time.”
She laughed and then rushed over. She couldn’t help but trust him.
Granted, he wasn’t as elegant as some, but when she got to him, he put his hands on her waist and she was up in the air. She arched and pointed and laughed, thinking Boston was more than a good athlete; he was an artist, too.
He pulled her back to him slowly. Their eyes met, and he lowered her carefully to her feet. Their breath mingled. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
His eyes were on her lips. Time slowed, and they stared into each other’s eyes.
“I have to tell you something,” Boston whispered, carefully tracing his finger down her jawline.
She shivered, his light touch making her feel alive. But he couldn’t kiss her, she couldn’t kiss him. “Boston, don’t …”
He gently put his finger over her lips. “Shh, it’s important.” He pulled his hand back.
She frowned at him. “Okay?”
He sucked in a breath. “I decided it was time to end friend zone.”
Adrenaline spiked through her. “No,” she said, stepping back. “I’m sorry, it’s too soon. I … can’t.”
Boston dropped his hand. He gazed at her with those hypnotic aqua eyes, waiting for her to go on.
“I’m sorry. I just …”
“Because employees can’t date guests?” he asked.
“Yes that’s it,” she said way too quickly.
“Easy,” he said. “I’ll check out as soon as rehearsal is over.”
“But then you won’t have access to the dance studio.”
He made a clucking sound with his mouth. “Guess you’ll have to resign, but I have great news. I’ll hire you as my personal … footwork consultant. I’ll even double what they pay you here.”
“Funny,” she said, feeling a zing at the thought of being his personal anything. “First of all, I’m not going back on my contract here. Second—” She tapped him on the forehead. “—your head is so far into the clouds, you aren’t thinking like a real person. I …” Her eyes dropped to
the floor. “I can’t.”
He put a finger under her chin, and in a more serious tone, he said, “It’s fine.” He let out a breath. “I shouldn’t care. I mean, I know you and Jason were everything, and I know you still love him.”
It didn’t surprise her that he saw right through her lame excuses. “I do.”
Silence reigned as they stared into each other’s eyes. Eventually, he said, “Then can I tell you something else? Something that has nothing to do with wanting to kiss you?”
Stop saying kiss! Suspicious, she nodded. “Okay.”
“Ty is bringing the girl he’s been hanging around with all week to the showcase tonight, and I’m trying not to flip a brick.”
This hadn’t been at all what she’d expected. She took a step away from him. “What?”
Boston sucked in a long breath. “He told me they were just friends, but they’ve been spending a lot of time together, and I don’t like it at all.”
She could understand that it was a difficult situation, but she didn’t know what Boston could do about it. “Ty makes choices. And you never know.” Her heart raced, and she thought of Jason and the way her skin still burned from where Boston touched her face.
He raked a hand through his hair. “I just don’t think it’s fair to do to someone, be in a relationship with them if … well …”
“I know, but it’s her choice, not yours. Sometimes beautiful things come—”
The door opened, and she stopped speaking. Mrs. Hamilton rushed in. “Did you hear?”
Mr. Hamilton followed her. “Hush, woman, you don’t need to be spreading gossip.”
“Hear what?” Addison demanded.
Mrs. Baxter rushed inside, followed by her husband. “Christian’s sister is in labor, and he’s gone.”
Mr. Baxter came in, followed by the Olsens.