Seaside Dances_A Sweet Romance

by Stacy Claflin

  No. She needed to give Zachary the space he needed. If she learned anything from her parents all those years, it was how not to treat someone.

  If he couldn't accept her honesty, then it just wasn't meant to be. No matter how much it broke her heart. She wasn't going lie and hide things to keep the peace. Yes, she wanted peace and happiness, but not at the expense of harboring secrets.

  Jasmine went out from the covered area and the wind blew her hair around. Rain picked up and whipped around her, hitting her in the face. Pulling her hair away, she looked around again, still not seeing him.

  She made her way back to Lana's house. Her car would be fine in front of the Hunter's house, and besides, Lana's house was closer to the boardwalk.

  Jasmine went inside and typed in the code for the security system.

  "Back so soon?" asked Dwight, looking up from his papers.

  "It didn't work out for today," Jasmine said. She forced a smile, hoping he wouldn't ask any questions.

  "That's too bad. Feel free to watch the TV if you want. It won't disturb me."

  "Thanks. Maybe later." Jasmine headed upstairs, trying to shake off the negative feelings. There was too much of that in her life already. She didn't need more. If it didn't work out with Zachary, she would just go back to Portland, work wherever she could, and focus on her dancing. Just like she'd been planning all along.

  She might even open her own dance studio. Spending time with the Hunters must have been rubbing off on her—they were pretty much all making their own destinies. Brayden with his clinic, Cruz with his tattoo parlor, Rafael with his fashion store, Jake buying his parents' shop, and of course Zachary with his writing—even if he was stubborn and rash.

  Jasmine reclined on the bed, thinking about the possibilities of her own studio. If she worked for a while, that would save money. She'd be out of school and not traveling, so if she had a roommate or two, that would cut her expenses even further.

  It would also give her a decent savings, and if she worked for a while, that would show the banks that she had a consistent income and would be able to pay off any loans she needed. Returning to Portland would be a good location—it was far away from her parents and Kittle Falls.

  She already knew enough people that it wouldn't be starting over like she'd been doing the whole time she'd been traveling to dance. There were already ten people she had in mind who might possibly room with her.

  The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. Her own dance studio. No, it wouldn't be like working at one of the prestigious ones, but she could run things the way she wanted. The entire studio would be hers for the designing. She would set the hours and maybe even hire people to work for her.

  She might even have a class for the low income—knowing herself how hard it was for kids who wanted to start dancing early, but couldn't because their parents wouldn't get a job. She'd love to give kids a chance she would have jumped at, and maybe even teach them life skills they wouldn't get elsewhere.

  Jasmine's excitement grew. It would be possible to start her studio where it would be more accessible to the inner city kids and the trailer parks and low-income housing. Maybe even hire some teens to help with those classes for the poor kids so that she could help even more kids.

  She sat up and grabbed her phone, searching to see what was available in those areas. There was plenty of retail space, none that had been a dance studio, so she would definitely need a loan to get it set up.

  Jasmine looked for dance studios with openings for teachers, and none of the ones she wanted had openings listed. They had probably offered their spots to the interns. That wouldn't stop her from asking, but she needed to look for other studios. If she needed to room with five other girls, sleep on a bunk bed, and work at a lower paying job, she would if that was what it would take.

  Opening a studio would take sacrifice—maybe a lot of it—but it would be worth it in the end, when she had her own studio and help kids with as few opportunities as she'd had.

  There was a knock on her door.

  "Come in."

  Lana came in. "Dad said you were here. What's going on? I thought you were supposed to eat at Jake and Tiffany's."

  "She wasn't feeling well."

  Lana sat down, watching Jasmine. "Nothing else is wrong?"

  Jasmine shrugged. "I'm just looking at possibilities for opening a dance studio. I really want my own, even if it takes years of saving."

  "That's not what I asked."

  Jasmine turned the screen off and put her phone on the night stand. She looked at Lana. "I told Zachary about almost putting his book up online."

  "And?"

  "Let me put it this way. It's a good thing we never actually did it, given how mad he is at me for considering it."

  Lana frowned. "What? That doesn't sound like him."

  Jasmine didn't say anything. Apparently it was like him—because it was him.

  "But if it sold thousands of—"

  "It was just a bad idea," Jasmine said. "I was right to leave the decision up to him. It's his story, and if he wants to waste years waiting for a company to publish it, that's his choice."

  "Why did you tell him?" Lana asked. "I mean, you didn't even do it."

  "I'd hoped he'd be excited about how much I believed in him, but that backfired." She rested her chin on her knees.

  "I'm sure he'll come around," Lana said. "He adores you."

  Jasmine frowned. "He was pretty mad. If he feels like he can't trust me, I can't blame him. I should have respected his wishes to begin with."

  "This is my fault," Lana said. "I'm the one who pressured you into this. I'm really sorry. I'll talk to him."

  "No. That might make things worse. Let him stew, and then if he wants to talk to me, great. If not, then it wasn't meant to be."

  Lana's eyes widened. "How can you say that? You guys are perfect for each other."

  "Face the facts, Lana. Everything has been a whirlwind with us." Jasmine sighed. "I've been high on emotion with my mother showing up and my condo burning down. His emotions have been elevated, too, finally facing how he feels about the death of Sophia. Maybe we were just meant to be here to help each other through some tough times. Now it's time to move on and go in different directions."

  "How can you even think like that?" Lana asked. "I'm going to talk to him."

  "Please just let it be. Whatever happens, happens. I don't feel like fighting destiny."

  Twenty Five

  Zachary slammed the front door so hard the walls shook. He put his hand out to steady a picture of his family from when he was about ten years old.

  "No slamming doors" called his dad.

  "Sorry," Zachary said, though he held no remorse. He went down the hall and into his room. He wanted to slam that door, too, but wanted everyone to leave him alone even more, so he didn't.

  What Zachary needed was to throw his emotions into his writing. He knew himself well enough to know he wouldn't be able to process anything without writing something down. He'd have to take it out on his novel.

  Damion hadn't had enough drama, and now Zachary had more than enough passion to throw at him. Either the readers would hate Zachary for being so mean to Damion, or they would love the suspense.

  Zachary didn't care either way. If it ended up being a horrible scene, he could delete it. He'd been writing so much lately, anyway. Throwing out a chapter or two wouldn't be a huge deal. At least he would probably feel better.

  He read the last few lines he'd written to get back into the story and then started typing. An antagonist that had only been mentioned up until this point showed up, surprising Damion on his quest.

  Zachary's fingers flew faster than ever before. He made more typos than before, also, but he didn't care. That stuff could be fixed later. At the rate his agent and the publishing houses moved, he could do the draft over ten times before anyone ever saw it.

  He threw all of his frustrations at his characters, making their lives ten times
more miserable than his was. Zachary even threw in some relationship problems so he could feel better about his own life. At least now his life was better than someone's, even if it was a fictional person.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  "Go away." Zachary didn't slow his typing.

  The door opened, anyway. Rafael came in. "What's going on?"

  "I'm trying to write." Zachary didn't look up from his laptop.

  "That's not what I mean."

  "It's what I mean." Zachary continued pounding on the keys, hoping his brother would get a clue.

  "Why'd you slam the door?"

  "I need to get this done, Raf."

  "Why? Got a publishing deadline?"

  Zachary straightened his back, and shot his brother an angry stare.

  "At least I got you to pay attention to me," Rafael said. "What's going on? Why aren't you with Jasmine?"

  "I don't want to talk about it." He turned back to his computer screen.

  "Too bad, little brother. I can still beat you up, so talk to me."

  "No you can't."

  "Want me to try?" Rafael asked, unbuttoning the cuff of his silk sleeve. "I still work out every day. Haven't stopped."

  "I'm taller now, big brother."

  "By an inch?" Rafael asked, not looking impressed. "Talk to me, or we'll take it outside."

  "Why should I talk to you?" Zachary demanded, his anger rising. "You haven't told me anything about why you left LA. I've asked you multiple times, and you stonewall me. I'm just returning the favor. Now leave me alone." He glared at his brother.

  "Is that what you think? I just don't want to talk to you?"

  "What else? We used to be close, but now we're not. That's fine. We haven't talked much over the last few years. Whatever. Let me write."

  "Did the big apple turn you into a punk?" Rafael asked.

  Zachary narrowed his eyes. "Go. Away."

  "You really want me to tell you what happened?" asked Rafael.

  "I don't care anymore."

  "Whatever." Rafael sat on the twin bed, forcing Zachary to move over.

  He backed up his document and then put his laptop on the desk. "You have my attention. Now talk."

  "Only if you agree to tell me what's going on."

  "We'll see."

  Rafael took a deep breath. "Fine. Here's the deal. There were a couple big things that happened all at once. Not only that, but some smaller things had been growing, making me eager to leave. But I stuck it out because I had my business and my girlfriend."

  "I knew all that," Zachary said. "Mostly."

  Rafael leaned against the headboard, kicking his feet onto the bed. "First of all, my business partner made some decisions without talking with me. Some partner, huh? He made deals we had no way of being able to follow through on. He promised a large company a huge order that would take twice our staff to complete, and he gave them a stupid discount to top it off."

  "Back stabbed. I know how that feels."

  Rafael raised an eyebrow. "Anyway, he swore we could do it and that it would bring in more money in the long run because the other company would continue business with us. We lost half of what we had built and saved—over that one stupid deal. We barely remained in the black. I had never lost so much sleep in my life. Not just worrying about everything, but having to spend every waking hour working on fulfilling that order. And no, the other company didn't come back to us with business. Long story short, the mess trickled down and affected our other accounts."

  Rafael paused, looking deep in thought. "If I'd have been smart, I would have kicked him out of the business. It was my business. I had been the one to start it up and get it off the ground. He'd joined to help expand it. Instead, he nearly killed it. In trying to fix that mistake, he made a bunch of other really stupid business decisions. Then we did end up in the red. He destroyed everything I'd built."

  "That sucks."

  "It more than sucks, and it's not even the end of it. I wanted him to leave, but he wouldn't. I couldn't get rid of him, so I walked away from the business that had been not only my lifelong dream, but my blood, sweat, and tears. He had nothing to buy me out with, so I just signed it over to him, not wanting to be in charge of all that debt. It was as clean of a break as I could manage."

  Suddenly, Zachary understood his brother's recent broodiness. "Sorry about all that."

  "You think that's the end of my story?" Rafael asked.

  "Uh, I guess not."

  "Not only did Tony mess me over by ruining my business, but then I found out he'd been seeing Kristine behind my back the entire time, too. The two of them took such pleasure in ruining my life and dream. Now they run my business together." Anger clouded his face. "Betrayed by a friend and the one I thought was the love of my life. That's why I'm starting over this time on my own. No business partner—unless you count Mom and Dad, but they're not going to do anything to hurt me, and I'm going to pay them back."

  "Not going to see anyone, either?" Zachary asked.

  "Nope. My focus is going to be on the business and nothing else. I'm not letting anyone close enough to hurt me again, but I'm going to be so busy working it won't matter. I won't have time to miss romance and love. If I get lonely, I'll get a dog. Or just come over here for dinner more often."

  "Wow, a dog or your family. Glad you think so highly of us." Zachary gave him a playful shove.

  "You know I won't get a dog. They're too much work."

  "They are cute, though. And loyal."

  "I think I'll just focus on my business. So, now will you tell me what's eating you?" Rafael stared at him.

  Zachary frowned. "I suppose I have to now. Everything was going so well with Jasmine, you know?"

  Rafael nodded.

  "Turns out she was going to load my novel to sell as an ebook."

  "And?"

  "What do you mean 'and'? And everything. I don't want it as an ebook. It's my story, and she has no right. You want to talk about blood, sweat, and tears? I've poured my soul into it, only to have everyone in New York City reject it without even reading it. Now I have to write a second one, adding in elements I didn't really want, just so it will sell."

  Rafael sat up straight. "Let me see if I understand this correctly. You're angry with her for something she didn't do?"

  "What?" Zachary asked, confused.

  "Jasmine didn't upload it, right?"

  "She was going to."

  "And I assume you know that because she fessed up. No one came to you behind her back, right?" Rafael asked.

  "What's your point?" Zachary narrowed his eyes.

  "That you have a real winner."

  "Pardon me?" Zachary asked.

  "She believes in your story enough to do that for you."

  "But she went behind my back to do it."

  "And she didn't, right? She changed her mind and did the right thing."

  Zachary frowned. "When you say it like that, you make me sound like a jerk."

  "Just pointing out facts about her. She not only respected your wishes, but let you know what she almost did, even though she didn't have to."

  "What exactly are you saying?" Zachary asked.

  "Maybe you owe her an apology. It's not like she was seeing your best friend behind your back. She was trying to improve your career."

  "I can do that myself, Rafael." Zachary folded his arms.

  "Did you ever stop to think maybe she knows a thing or two about the ebook business?"

  "Like what? She's a dancer. Not a writer, not a publisher."

  "And I'm a fashion designer, but I know that ebooks are where the industry is moving."

  "Oh, really?" Zachary asked.

  "You're so busy writing, you haven't paid attention to the changing publishing industry, have you?" Rafael asked.

  "That's what my agent is for. And what do you know about book publishing?"

  "I've had people tell me I need to write a book—lots of people. Everyone who's successful in their industr
y is writing a book these days. And most of them are skipping the agents and publishers."

  "What good would writing a book do you?" Zachary asked.

  "It's a way to get people in. They read your book—see you as an authority in the field, and then want to go into business with you. In my case, purchase my clothing. I suppose if I'd listened to the advice and published a book, I might have had enough clients to make up for the damage Tony caused."

  "I don't have anything to up-sell," Zachary said. "Publishing an ebook doesn't make sense. I want my books physically sitting in stores. Not on some virtual bookshelf."

  "You can have both, you know."

  "Maybe I don't want both."

  "So, you just want to turn away money?" Rafael countered. "Not to mention that publishers also produce ebooks. And are you going to push away an amazing and beautiful woman, too? Are you going to keep working in the family shop for the next decade, also?"

  Zachary frowned. "Publishers won't look at me if I self publish. It will kill my career."

  "And who told you that?" Rafael asked. "Someone in traditional publishing?

  "Your point?" Zachary's nostrils flared.

  "Have you even studied the market?"

  "I suppose you have." Zachary clenched his fists, not wanting to take his anger out on his brother.

  "Some. After having enough people suggest I write a book, I did do a little research. Enough to know that publishers go after authors who prove themselves."

  Zachary narrowed his eyes. He couldn't argue without looking into it himself, and he figured that between what Rafael and Jasmine had said, they were both probably right. And that meant his agent had been lying to him.

  "It doesn't mean anything even if you're right, Rafael. The fact of the matter is that she took the file I gave her to read on her own and almost sold it."

  "For you. To improve your career." Rafael stared at Zachary. "She believes in you. And even more importantly, she respects your feelings enough to not do what would help you—because you're hard-headed."

  "Shut up."

  "You'd better figure this out before she goes back to wherever she came from."

  Twenty Six

  Jasmine's alarm went off, but she barely heard it. She'd spent most of the night tossing and turning, half-hoping that Zachary would call her and half-planning her new studio in or near Portland. The best she could figure was that it would take two years to get it going. The worst case, five years. Either way was fine by her. She was willing to make the necessary sacrifices, and it would be well worth the wait.