“I really do appreciate it.”
“Is she planning on ever telling her fans? How does she expect to keep something like that a secret?”
“It helps to be engaged to the editor-in-chief of Celebrity Crush.”
Was that who that Griffin guy was? No kidding. With the biggest, most credible tabloid in her lap, she must be under the illusion that she could control her publicity. She’d also never been quite as famous as she’d recently become, so no one had bothered to dig for dirt. That might be about to change.
“Are you and Kaoli really…” Jori trailed off. It was none of her business. But she had to know.
“Dating?” Rae finished for her.
Jori nodded.
“I…” Rae hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Yes.”
Jori tried not to react. Her heart dropped anyway.
Rae could have anyone she wanted. She didn’t have to be someone’s mistress. She could be with someone who would put her first. She could be with someone like Jori.
“Have you been dating long?”
Rae laughed uncomfortably. “Not long, no.”
“Because I could have sworn you looked like you didn’t want her to touch you, that day she showed up at the pool.” Jori forced herself to stop talking, because if she said anything more, Rae would realize she cared, and she didn’t want her pity. If Rae was unavailable, there could be no good outcome to her knowing how Jori felt.
“Um, yeah.” Rae bit her lip. “It’s only been a few days, but don’t spread it around, okay?”
Her resolve to not say anything slipped. “Why would you—”
“We have a history,” Rae said. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. Since high school, believe it or not.”
Of course they had a history. There was something about the way they acted around each other, about the way they drifted toward each other and then recoiled. Maybe they learned to do the stick-out-your-chest thing from each other. Although Rae was way better at it than Kaoli.
“There are other women,” Jori said. Other women who weren’t jerks. “You don’t have to date someone who’s marrying someone else.”
“She’s not as bad as she seems.”
Not exactly a heartfelt declaration of love.
But what could she do? Nothing. Nothing but be a friend and shut up.
Jori slipped her right hand into Rae’s left and allowed Rae to draw her into position. And thought about what it meant that Rae had leaned against a doorframe to smile at Jori and arched her spine and her perfect, tiny breasts in her direction.
When she was supposedly dating someone else.
Chapter Twelve
It wasn’t until Rae, Jori, and Kaoli convened mid-week outside the yoga barn that Rae realized the space she’d been practicing in with Jori was in use.
“I should have checked the schedule,” Rae said as the workshop attendees stretched their arms wide while Sierra urged them to relax their ribs. She had checked it, but when she’d seen “Freeing the Voice Workshop” on the calendar, she’d assumed the yoga barn would be available since the non-yoga workshops were always held in the lodge’s multipurpose rooms, not here. She hadn’t counted on yoga being part of a singing class, although it did make a weird kind of sense. Clearly she’d had no idea how far Sierra and Melanie were willing to push their creativity to reach new customers.
“Where to?” Kaoli asked.
“We could check the multipurpose rooms,” Jori said. “Move the furniture out of the way.”
Rae had tried to talk Jori out of joining them, telling her she didn’t want to impose, but she’d lost. Jori wanted to help her demonstrate the dance moves they’d worked out together, she’d said, and she wanted to make sure Rae stayed off her feet. Both of which were unnecessary, but not unwelcome.
“Those rooms are already in use,” Rae said. “I heard singing in there on my way here.”
Jori pushed her hands through the shock of hair at the top of her head and continued down the fuzzy sides to rub the back of her neck. “How about we practice outside? On the grass somewhere. Or the parking lot.”
“We can’t dance on grass.” She hated to be negative, but… “Or gravel. Our shoes have to slide.” She was starting to think they might not have a choice, though. Maybe grass would work if she was careful with her ankle.
“Did I see a band shell in town?” Kaoli said. “That might have a wooden floor.”
“That’s a great idea,” Rae said. Leave it to Kaoli to take note of anything resembling a stage.
“Okay then,” Kaoli said. “What are we waiting for?”
“What about your bodyguard?” Jori said. “Don’t you need him?”
“He woke up with a stomach flu.” Kaoli touched her throat and shuddered. “I’m staying as far away from his germs as possible.”
“What happens if someone recognizes you?”
Kaoli shrugged like Jori was overreacting. “I’m supposed to be on tour. The undesirables won’t be stalking me here.”
What did she mean, she wouldn’t be stalked? Photographers had stalked her to this very location to take that misleading photo of her kneeling by the pool to kiss Rae’s forehead. But Rae didn’t bother pointing that out, because Kaoli knew better than anyone that if she wanted the public to believe they were dating each other, then they needed to be seen together. And that was the real reason Kaoli wasn’t afraid to practice outside: she wanted to be seen. And it wouldn’t be a problem. Maybe Jori didn’t realize it, but most of the time, Kaoli didn’t really need a tough-looking guy to follow her around. One day she’d be famous enough to need him around the clock, but for now, the bodyguard was more of an ego boost than real protection.
The bodyguard and his germs had the key to Kaoli’s rental car and Rae didn’t have a car, of course, so they headed out to Jori’s ancient Corolla hatchback.
“Rae, you should take the back,” Jori said as she removed Baylee’s booster seat and stored it in the rear cargo space. “That way you can keep your knee straight and stretch your leg across the seat.”
“Yeah.”
Rae stashed her crutches behind the booster seat and scrambled into the back. The crutches were not just in case of emergency—she needed them, and she was not happy about it. It was only temporary, though. A day. Two, max. She’d overdone it—nothing serious. It had probably been a mistake to rush into heels. Her ankle had gotten tired, and then her knee had overcompensated, and now here she was, still not free of those damn crutches. But it had felt so good to ignore her sensible sneakers and slip into shoes that made her feel like dancing that she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t do it again.
“You can rest your foot in my lap,” Kaoli said, opening the opposite door. “If anyone sees us, it’ll look sexy.” As if she really thought they’d be noticed driving into town, or that their seat selection would become a topic of discussion. Or that anyone outside the car could see whether Rae’s foot was in anyone’s lap or not.
Rae planted her good leg on the car’s upper frame to block Kaoli from entering. There was no way she was going to subject Jori to thinking they were doing anything untoward in the back seat. “Take the front, Kaoli. My knee hurts and I don’t want you jostling it.”
Kaoli grudgingly got into the front passenger seat. Ten minutes later they were in town, parking in front of a row of shops and making their way across the freshly mown grass of the central square.
When they reached the band shell, it was empty. Rae sat on the lip of the low stage and braced her back against a wide post supporting the roof so she could stretch her legs out in front of her. She left her crutches below, propped against the edge of the stage. Kaoli hopped up beside her, still fixated on this idea that they should sit together.
It didn’t look like anyone had recognized them. No one even glanced in their direction, even though Kaoli’s skirt was so short she shouldn’t be sitting in it, not without
tights. Her legs dangled off the stage, bouncing and kicking with enough energy to show off her inner thighs, if not her panties—assuming she was wearing any—to any passersby who looked her way. Another vigorous kick accidentally made contact with Rae’s crutches and knocked them over. Jori caught the crutches as they fell and repositioned them within easy reach of Rae, but out of range of Kaoli’s careless feet.
“Shouldn’t we be getting started?” Jori asked.
“I need a minute to rest,” Kaoli said.
More like she needed a minute to see if anyone would notice her, but Rae’s knee hurt too much after their brief walk from the car to argue. Jori met Rae’s eyes. She must have sensed that Rae wasn’t ready because she shrugged and sat on her other side.
A group of loud, boisterous, drunk college boys who somehow hadn’t left town for the summer passed by on the sidewalk. There were at least ten of them, and several had removed their shirts in the hot weather. Kaoli fanned herself vigorously with one hand. Jori checked them out, too, and Rae’s heart sank.
“Shirts are overrated,” Kaoli declared.
Jori scoffed. “Not on those guys, they aren’t.”
“Are you crazy?” Kaoli asked. “Did you see their chests?”
Rae closed her eyes, hoping the guys were being loud enough that they wouldn’t hear Kaoli’s comments. The last thing they needed was a crowd of drunk men believing she and her friends would welcome the opportunity to be hit on.
“I’ve seen better,” Jori said. “They need to work out before they subject us to the view.”
Of course Jori wasn’t impressed—because despite Rae’s conviction that Jori was straight or bi, anyone capable of flirting with women the way Jori did didn’t honestly like men at all. She couldn’t. Except the way she was staring, she wasn’t exactly acting like she wasn’t interested.
“Now that one…” Jori nodded in the direction of a man trailing at the edge of the group in a sleeveless black tee that exposed biceps that were significantly larger than the group average. “That’s a man I’d enjoy seeing more of.”
No. No.
Kaoli kept her gaze fixed on their retreating backs. “Bodybuilders don’t do it for me.”
“I doubt that,” Jori said. “Have you seen the men who dance in your show? I assume you hired them.”
“They’re for the audience, not for me,” Kaoli said.
“Because you might be gay,” Rae reminded her. She wasn’t sure why she bothered—if Kaoli wasn’t more concerned about hiding the truth from Jori, why should she worry? Especially since it was going to be impossible to hide once Griffin showed up for rehearsal. And didn’t scream at her for sleeping with his fiancée. Maybe that was why Kaoli didn’t care.
“Gym rats spend too much time checking themselves out in the mirror,” Kaoli told Jori. “Who needs that?”
“Everyone’s entitled to their own opinion,” Jori said.
“These guys may not be built,” Kaoli continued, “but they give off that vibe. That irresistible male vibe. You’re welcome to go for the buffitude, but I go for the vibe.” She nodded knowingly, then remembered herself with a wince. “I mean, I used to be. Before I realized I liked girls,” she amended, rolling her eyes at Rae like her new sexual orientation was Rae’s stupid idea, not her own.
Rae shook her head and chipped at the flaking paint on the wooden floorboards by her leg. If it weren’t impossible for an injured dancer to audition for another job, she might reconsider whether this job was worth putting up with her boss’s personality.
“They don’t have the vibe,” Jori said.
“Of course they do,” Kaoli said dismissively, apparently forgetting—again—that she wasn’t supposed to find them attractive. “You can tell yourself you don’t like their randy, half-naked awesomeness and pretend they’re not a hell of a lot more fun than the guy who’s surgically attached to his biceps curl machine, but I don’t believe you.”
Glaring, Jori pulled her reflective sunglasses off the top of her head and positioned them on her nose. Her silence was intimidating—Rae sensed it and it wasn’t even directed at her. For someone who was purportedly a fan, she seemed a bit hostile. “They didn’t do anything for me.”
“Fine. You’re only interested in girls and fully dressed, muscle-bound male morons. But if this is how you’re hitting on Rae, by dancing with me—I mean, that’s why you’re here, right? Because our invalid wants you to dance with me?—I’ve got to tell you, I don’t think it’s a very good plan.”
Kaoli was wrong. Jori wasn’t hitting on her. Rae wouldn’t mind if that changed, but for now, the reality was…
“I’m not hitting on Rae,” Jori grumbled.
See? She was right.
Jori cleared her throat. “I’m not.” This time her voice was flat and indifferent.
Wow. That felt like rejection.
Rae reached for her crutches and awkwardly maneuvered herself onto her feet. “How about we work on the dancing?”
Jori jumped up and held out her hand to Kaoli, their argument seemingly forgotten in her haste to get the point of the afternoon over with. Kaoli batted her eyelashes, and Rae wondered how she’d feel if Kaoli decided to slide her arms around Jori’s neck and kiss her and find the answers she hadn’t been able to find with Rae. It would never happen, but what if it did? Kaoli could satisfy her craving for adventure, Jori would get bragging rights for the rest of her life for scoring with someone famous, and they’d both understand when Kaoli moved on and decided women weren’t for her.
This was going to be fun, trying not to picture them in bed together. Rae turned on the music and began talking them through the choreography while Jori did the physical work of showing Kaoli what to do. Watching the two of them together, it was hard to believe Rae had ever found Kaoli attractive. Kaoli was the one she was supposed to be teaching, but Jori was the one who held her attention. Jori might have trouble picking up dance steps and she might not execute them perfectly, but there was nothing clunky about the way she moved. The fact that she wasn’t trained, that she didn’t have years of dance classes behind her, made her swiveling hips seem even more sensual.
Kaoli wasn’t perfect, either—she was a singer who knew how to move, not a trained dancer—but it wasn’t the same. Kaoli was too controlled, too calculating, too heartless. Her fans might be captivated by her charisma and want to sleep with her, but not Rae. Not anymore. Not even to prove to her teenage self that she could. The only person here who had that effect on her was Jori. If she had a doorframe she’d lean against it and stick her chest out just to watch Jori get flustered and listen to her come up with outraged, adorable explanations for why Rae shouldn’t do things like that.
Instead, she contented herself with watching. Jori dealt with Kaoli like a pro, keeping her focused on the steps and deflecting Kaoli’s diva attitude so they could get it done. Every move Jori made, every reach, every turn, every seductive glance over her shoulder set off an answering shiver in Rae’s nervous system, reminding her how good it felt to stretch and flex, reminding her of everything she’d been deprived of by her injury. When Jori floundered on one of the more complicated moves, Rae gave in. She put aside her crutches and joined in to help, and Kaoli behaved herself, holding hands without turning it into something it wasn’t.
Touching Kaoli wasn’t quite the same as touching a stranger—maybe it never would be, given their history—but it was close. It didn’t make her nervous. It certainly didn’t turn her on. It was comfortable. It was like dancing with any of the other dancers she worked with every day. Like she’d always wanted to feel around her.
But it wasn’t until she took Jori’s hand to demonstrate the next part of the choreography that she felt not just comfortable, but free, and she let loose and really danced. She stretched her arms and twisted her ribcage and shimmied her hips with all the soul-deep emotion she’d pour out if she were ons
tage. She imagined the people passing by on the street were her audience, and she made her movements big enough and bold enough to be seen three blocks away. Her ankle was a little wobbly and her knee was a little weak, but none of that got in the way of turning the relatively simple steps into undulating waves of yearning and heat, or of showing Kaoli how amazing this choreography could be if Kaoli’s stupid boyfriend weren’t the one dancing it. But mostly she danced for herself, reveling in the pure joy of transforming music into motion, of feeling her muscles wake up, of returning to who she was meant to be after long weeks of losing herself to pain. She danced recklessly, just like she always did. It was the only way to dance.
After a while, a small crowd had gathered near the stage. They weren’t watching Rae—she had no illusions about that. Kaoli was the reason they’d stopped to stare. They didn’t climb onstage or shriek Kaoli’s name or shout how much they loved her, though. Which was nice. Instead, they seemed to sense she was working and were satisfied to just observe from a distance, as if they’d been invited to an exclusive backstage event and would be kicked out if they didn’t stay on their best behavior. But Kaoli would have to be deaf not to hear them on their phones gasping to their friends that they would not believe who they’d found.
An hour later, Kaoli announced that she needed to find a ladies’ room and hurried off in the direction of the nearby shops and restaurants. That was when the rabid fan action finally hit. Half the crowd ran after her, pleading for selfies or shouting out offers to be her tour guide around town.
As the crowd dispersed, Rae eyed the floor, wondering how much it would hurt to bend her knee to lie down and rest. As usual, she’d overdone it. The floor looked far away. If Kaoli was fast, it might not be worth it to stretch out on her back—not if she was just going to have to get back up again, because getting up hurt almost as much as sitting down.
Jori arrived at her side with her crutches. “Looking for these?”
“Thanks.” Rae took them and leaned on them, shifting her weight off her throbbing leg.
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