Ay, Papi had known her so well. Even though she’d tried hard to hide her insecurities, her doubt, he had still seen them because he was an amazing father.
Always looking out for her. Always knowing what she needed, before she even knew herself.
Behind her, Murphy called out to anyone who wanted to go over the choreography with his assistant while the director stepped outside to take a call. The other dancers immediately lined up. Yaz didn’t move, her thoughts in turmoil. Questions screaming in her head.
What was she doing here? Unhappy. Surrounded by people who cared more about themselves than each other. Other than Murphy, did she really want to spend the next however many months of her life traveling from city to city with these people? Was that the right choice for her?
Or would she rather work at Hanson’s, or maybe with this new dance program Murphy had mentioned, if there was a place for her? More importantly, did she want to stay and fight for a life with Tomás and Maria?
She was still Papi’s star, still shining brightly, living a life with dance. His letter was right, she could shine anywhere. Be a star in many ways, especially in the eyes of those who meant the most to her.
That’s what truly mattered.
Refolding the letter, Yaz tucked it and the Barbie back into her duffel. She quickly slipped on her fleece pants and sweatshirt, changed out of her dance shoes, then rose and slung her bag strap over her shoulder.
“Murphy, I have to go,” she called out.
He hurried over to her side, concern pulling his brows into a deep V. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t belong here, not anymore.”
His frown deepened. Grasping her elbow, he bent closer to whisper, “What are you talking about? Tom’s thrilled with you. You’re a shoo-in.”
“Being here this morning, around the audition atmosphere, it’s not what I want. Not anymore.” She grabbed his other hand, hoping he’d understand. “Listening to you talk about the foundation. Finding the Barbie . . .”
“Barbie? Yaz, you’re not making sense.”
She shook her head, embarrassed by her rambling. “I know, I’m sorry. I don’t think everything was clear inside my head until a few minutes ago. I am truly grateful you called me. But I really think I belong working with your new dance program here in Chicago.”
Murphy rolled his eyes and heaved a disgruntled sigh. “Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything about that. Especially after you told me this morning how much fun it’s been working at your high school studio again.”
“No, it’s good that you did.” She squeezed his hand, wanting him to know how important this was to her. “I was making a mistake here. And I’d hate myself if I took a spot that someone else might appreciate more than I do. I know you’re busy with the show, but please, call me about the program. I’m serious about getting involved.”
Her friend wrapped her in a big bear hug. “After everything you’ve been through, I think this is the first real smile I’ve seen on your face in too long. It looks good on you. I’ll be in touch, count on it.”
The director stepped into the studio and the dancers immediately hushed, ready for his instructions.
“Don’t worry about Tom,” Murphy told her. “I’ll break the news to him. He can be a pain in the ass during auditions, but he’s a decent guy.”
“Thanks!” Yaz gave her friend another hug, grateful for his understanding.
“The show won’t be the same without you, but I’m thrilled for the kids in this town. You’ll be brilliant for them.”
“I’ll be waiting for your call. Don’t forget me.” She pointed a finger at him as she backed away.
“Impossible.”
Yaz blew him a kiss, gave the director her thanks for the opportunity, then left Murphy to fill in the details. Once outside on the busy city sidewalk, she buttoned up her peacoat, wrapped her knit scarf around her neck, then took a deep, cleansing breath of the refreshing winter air. Strangely, despite having walked out on an audition for the first time in her life, she felt a sense of freedom. Relief.
A taxi squealed to a stop nearby and she glanced up in surprise when someone called her name. Tomás raced across the street toward her and the deep, cleansing breath she’d taken lodged in her chest.
“I can’t believe I caught you!” He stepped gingerly over a pile of dirty ice and snow plowed up along the curb.
“What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.”
She gaped in confusion as he reached her. “How did, how did you find me?”
“It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure!”
Hands shoved in his jacket pockets, his cheeks ruddy from the cold, he stared at her with a look of apprehension and . . . hope? . . . in his eyes. “Did you know there are two studios with this name in the theatre district? I stopped at the other one first. It’s closed today. Locked up tight.”
“I-I don’t understand. Is something wrong?”
Tomás reached for her, cupping her shoulders in his hands. “I’m rusty, and the first time I said these words, I didn’t have any idea of their true meaning.”
“Tomás, what are you—?”
A group of tourists hurried by, jostling them in their haste. Tomás muttered a curse and guided her to stand underneath the studio awning. He swallowed like he was trying to work up the nerve to do something.
Then she remembered today was his big day, too. “Wait, what about the Linton pitch? Did you already finish? How’d it go?”
A frustrated scowl creased Tomás’s handsome face. “I asked him to postpone it.”
“You what?” Yaz reared back in alarm, her hands grabbing onto his coat lapels when her boots slipped on the icy sidewalk. “Why? You’ve been working on that account for months! What were you thinking?”
“That I needed to find you. That I couldn’t let you walk away without telling you how I feel.”
His grip on her shoulders tightened and he pressed his forehead against hers. Their warm breath mingled in a tiny fog between them.
“I’ve been fighting this since the day I met you. Pretending I could ignore how you affect me. Pretending we could be friends, when that wasn’t enough. It’ll never be enough. I love you, Yazmine Fernandez.”
Blood rushed to her head, whooshing in her ears. Dios mío, she could have sworn he’d just said—“You—you—”
“I didn’t need some master plan to find my perfect partner. I’d already met her. You’re the one I want to be with. Whether it’s in between shows, or if Maria and I meet up with you somewhere on the road. Or, even if I have to make the move to New York, whatever you want. It’ll be enough for me. If it’s enough for you.”
“I—you—you think—”
Tomás grinned, his dimple winking at her. “Hell, if I’d known telling you I loved you would shush that sassy mouth of yours, I might have tried it sooner.”
“No. I mean, yes.” She ducked her head, her mind racing. He loved her. He loved her!
Euphoria rushed her senses, buckling her knees. She sagged back against the studio door, tears springing to her eyes.
Tomás bent down to meet her gaze. “I’m hoping those are tears of joy?”
“Sí! Sí! Yes!” She cupped his cheeks, humbled by his heartfelt declaration. “I love you so much. But I was too afraid to go after what I really wanted. Too afraid you wouldn’t want me.”
“I do. Oh, how I do.” He leaned in to capture her lips with his.
Yaz slid her arms around his neck, feeling like she’d finally come home. His tongue teased her mouth open, deepening the kiss. She moaned with pleasure, savoring his taste of coffee and mint, with a sweet dash of forever.
Tomás backed her up against the door, pressing his body into hers. She arched against him, wanting more. Needing more. Despising the thick coat that kept her from running her hands along his muscular back.
A car honked in the busy street.
Someone yelled, “Get a room!” and they broke
apart on a laugh.
“We’ll make this work, I promise,” he said, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Did they tell you when rehearsals start, or where the production opens?”
“I’m not in the show.”
“What? You were smiling when you walked out so I thought—they’re crazy if they don’t cast you!”
“I dropped out.” She laughed at his bug-eyed expression, her breath forming a puff of warm smoke in the cool air. “I had a bit of an epiphany myself. I realized I don’t want to be living out of a suitcase, traveling with a bunch of people, half of whom I don’t necessarily even like. Not when I could be with you and Maria.”
Tomás’s expression hardened.
He dropped his arms and stepped away from her, taking his warmth with him.
“You can’t give up dance because of us. I don’t want you waking up five or ten years from now feeling like you settled for something less.”
Too late she remembered the words his ex had thrown at him before leaving for greener pastures. Yaz’s heart melted.
Grabbing his lapels again she jerked him back to her. “Let me be perfectly clear here. You will always be enough for me. You, Maria, and any other kids we’re blessed with. Don’t you ever doubt that.”
Several tense beats passed and Yaz feared that words and promises wouldn’t be enough. She gazed up at his dark eyes, saw the uncertainty he so rarely admitted. If her words couldn’t convince him, there was only one thing left to try.
Rising up on her tiptoes, she slid her hands around his neck again and tugged his head down for a soul-searing kiss. She grinned when she felt the pressure of his hands on her waist, lifting her off the ground to spin in a circle. A thrill raced through her and she held on to him tighter.
When he finally put her back on her feet he kissed his way along her jaw, murmuring sweet endearments that curled her toes in her snow boots.
“Being with you doesn’t mean I have to give up dance,” she said, struggling to keep her train of thought while his mouth played havoc with her senses. “I’ll keep working at Hanson’s. And I’ve got a lead on something local.”
“What do you mean?” he murmured. He blew into her ear and she shivered with desire for him.
“Later. Now I want to—” She turned her head to bring his lips back to hers.
The kiss was slow, sure. Perfect.
An alarm bell chimed and Tomás groaned, reaching for his cell in his jacket pocket. The words “Linton Pitch” flashed across the screen.
Yaz gasped, remembering what Tomás had left behind to come find her.
As much as he didn’t want her giving up dance for him, no way did she want him losing an account, especially one as big as this, because of her. “Please tell me you didn’t sabotage the whole pitch. Tell me you can fix things with Linton.”
She started to slide her hands from around his neck, but he held on to her tighter. “Surprisingly, he’s actually a softie when it comes to romance. He gave me his blessing to leave. With the caveat that I’m ready to go in . . .” He glanced at his cell phone. “Twenty-eight minutes.”
A taxi turned the corner, headed in their direction. Yazmine raised her arm to hail it. “Okay, so here’s the plan.”
“Oh, you’ve got a plan now, do you?” he teased, his dimple flashing.
“I learned from the best.” She gave him a cheeky grin, then stepped to the curb to open the taxi’s door. “I’ll head home to Maria, you head to the office and win Linton over. Tonight, we’ll celebrate.”
He stepped toward her. Looping one arm around her waist, he cupped her cheek with his other hand, rubbing his thumb across her bottom lip.
She pressed against him, craving his touch. Relieved she could finally show him how she really felt.
“Sounds perfect,” he said. “And you know why?”
She shook her head, lost in the love shining in his eyes. Love for her.
“Because you’re my perfect partner.”
“And you are absolutely mine,” she murmured, tilting her head so they could seal their promise with a kiss.
Keep reading for a special sneak peek of the next romance in Priscilla Oliveras’s
Matched to Perfection series,
HER PERFECT AFFAIR
A Zebra Shout mass-market paperback and eBook on sale in April 2018!
Rosa Fernandez stared at the sea of wedding guests whirling on the dance floor. Her toe tapped to the beat of the salsa music, but she didn’t join in the revelry. Not when it was her responsibility to make sure everything was running smoothly.
Scooting around a potted palm, she made a beeline for the buffet tables and the wedding planner, relieved that so far everything had gone according to plan. Her big sister and her new husband had departed over an hour ago amidst kisses and good wishes. With huge grins on their faces and love for each other in their eyes, they’d headed upstairs to one of the finest suites the downtown historic Chicago hotel boasted.
Now, with the clock close to striking one a.m., the party would be ending soon.
And Rosa had yet to work up the nerve to ask a particular someone to dance. Her gaze scanned the crowd, looking for—
“It was a beautiful wedding, m’ija.”
Rosa turned her attention to her neighbor, bending to accept her hug. “Gracias, Señora Vega.”
Señora Vega smiled, the wrinkles on her face deepening. “You did a fabulous job. Just like the church senior social you organized last month.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“Bueno, no one doubted tonight would come together beautifully in your capable hands,” Señora Vega said. “Taking care of things for others. That’s your specialty, verdad, nena?”
Right.
Or maybe it was her affliction.
Rosa kept the errant thought to herself, returning Señora Vega’s smile with a tremulous one of her own. “Yazmine and Tomás deserve the best.”
“Que nena buena eres.” The older woman patted Rosa’s cheek, a wistful sheen in her eyes. “Your parents would have loved this,” she said, leaning in for a good-bye hug.
Rosa nodded mutely, melancholy wrapping around her heart at the thought of how much she missed her parents. They should have been here. Sure, there was nothing any of them could have done to stop Papi’s cancer, but her mother’s car accident all those years ago . . . that should never have happened.
Resolutely, Rosa pushed aside the memories and guilt. Tonight was about her big sister. So Rosa would do her best to channel their mom and her knack for organizing the best parties anyone could throw.
As she wove through guests, the reception music changed to the heavy bass of a popular reggaeton song and the crowd on the dance floor let out a cheer.
“Hey, Rosa, come join us!” Arms raised overhead, her younger sister waved at her.
Surrounded by a crowd of her old high school friends, Lilí shimmied her hips and shoulders in reckless abandon to the Spanish rap music. Thanks to her sweaty gyrations throughout the night, her pixie haircut had lost some of its spike, but Lilí’s easy grin had only widened.
One of the guys snaked his arm around her lower back and Lilí plastered her lithe body against his. They moved to the music as one, simulating an act that more likely belonged in the bedroom than on the dance floor.
Rosa shook her head in bemusement.
Lilí puckered up and made a show of blowing her a kiss.
Ay, the little brat. A cocktail dress and heels could not a properly behaved young lady make.
Lilí sent another catcall in her direction.
Rosa waved her off. That style of dancing wasn’t really her cup of café con leche. Lilí knew that.
Lilí stuck out her tongue, then went back to her fun.
With a resigned sigh, Rosa turned away. Lilí might not understand that there were responsibilities to attend to, but she certainly did. With Papi’s passing earlier this year, Rosa felt compelled to take charge. Even more so than after Mami’s death wh
en Rosa and Yaz were in high school.
Be responsible. Do the right thing. It was what Rosa did best. Even if her “good girl” reputation sometimes made her itch to break out of the mold.
She continued moving through the crowd, stopping now and then to chat with friends and guests, thanking them for their attendance, reminiscing about her parents.
She was halfway across the ballroom when a thick arm encircled her waist from behind.
“Red Rosie, you’ve been avoiding me.”
Recognizing her former classmate’s voice, Rosa bit back a groan.
“Hector!” She turned, leaning away from him, barely stopping herself from stomping on his foot with her heel. It would serve him right after grabbing her butt earlier in the buffet line.
“¡No seas mala!” he complained.
“I’m not being mean. I’m busy.”
“One dance. A slow one. Come on, Red Rosie.”
The embarrassing high school nickname grated on her already frayed nerves.
“Hector, I have to check in with the wedding planner.”
“All work and no play—”
“I know, I know. But tonight is all about Yaz and Tomás. So, how about you play a little harder for the both of us, okay?” Rosa schooled her face into her understanding yet I’m-not-giving-in expression. She might only be seven weeks into her job as the librarian at Queen of Peace Academy, but she’d been practicing this look in the mirror for months. “Marisol is sitting by herself. I’m sure she’d love to dance with you.” She pointed at their mutual friend.
When Hector gave her a sad-eyed pout, Rosa arched her brow, but softened it with a teasing smile.
“Está bien,” he finally moaned.
She watched him trudge away, part of her wanting to join him and the crowd having fun. Yet, her job wasn’t done.
After a short discussion with the wedding planner, Rosa learned everything was under control. She glanced from her peers, excitedly dancing, to the older couples chatting at the circular tables. Most people here would say she fit in better with the older, more reserved crowd. She heaved a sigh weighty with resignation.
His Perfect Partner Page 26