by Taylor Hart
Addison nodded, grateful that Christian had agreed to so many extra practices.
With a wink, he said, “You’re going to get that spot with Jive. I know you will.”
“I hope you’re right.” Addison didn’t feel ready, not physically and not in her dancer’s soul.
He nodded. “You did once before. Don’t worry.”
She tried to accept his confident words. Leaving competitive dance for two years and then trying to get back in wasn’t an easy proposition, but after losing Jason, she knew she had to come back to dancing. With him gone, it was her home.
Christian patted her shoulder. “Go eat. You have to be back in an hour for the next lesson.”
“Thanks.” Addison was starving. She rushed down the ramp that led to the path to the main clubhouse. Breathing in the air blowing in from the beach, she grinned. The soothing sound of the ocean in the background was a nice perk to being here.
“Hey, Addison.”
The sudden words jolted her out of her thoughts, and she felt embarrassed she hadn’t seen Cyree Hue and Devon Chase, the co-managers of The Palm.
Cyree smiled at her. “Hey.” She was professional and competent, and also one of the most motherly people Addison had ever met.
Addison slowed. “Hi.”
Cyree slowed down, too. “Is everything okay? How are the dance classes going?”
Devon smiled at her, showing true concern with his gentle eyes. “Is Christian being good to you?”
“The best,” she said, feeling grateful to these two. “Thanks again for letting me come and be part of this while we practice this month.”
Cyree put her hand on Addison’s shoulder. “Of course. We’re lucky to have you, even if it’s only for another three weeks.” She winked at her. “You can always make this a permanent thing, you know.”
The offer was generous, but Addison hated seeing the pity in everyone’s eyes when she told them about her husband. She wanted to be seen as what she was—a professional. “Thank you.”
Devon nodded. “You come talk to us if you end up being interested.”
“I will.” Addison enjoyed the job, the setting, and her co-workers, but she didn’t belong here as a permanent position. She was a world-class dancer who’d been recruited to teach untrained celebrities to dance on Dancing with the Stars for three years. She had her whole future in front of her. Somewhere inside of her, she still had the ability to stand under the spotlight.
She didn’t like being treated like a washed-up, desperate woman who was struggling through the nightmares that never really faded, even after opening her eyes. It was enough that she had to deal with that painful truth: the love of her life was gone. Forever.
Again, she put her on a practiced smile and stopped feeling sorry for herself. “The Palm is incredible. The beach is amazing. The guests are so much fun.”
Cyree gave her a wide grin and softly touched her forearm. “Good. Listen,” she sighed. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Brady brothers. The youngest, Ty, was recently diagnosed with ALS.”
Addison drew a blank. “I don’t think so.”
“That’s fine.” Cyree brushed a hand through the air. “The thing is, two brothers are coming to stay here for a month while Ty gets some treatment. He’s a country music singer, and his brother, Boston, is a professional football player for the Surf. Ty has enrolled both of them in dance lessons every morning starting Monday. Just wanted you to be aware of them when they show up Monday.”
“Okay.” Sympathy washed over her. “ALS is where the muscles shrink, right?”
“Yes, otherwise known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. It leaves the person completely weak: their minds are fully functional, but their bodies are basically a shell.”
Addison shuddered.
Cyree nodded and motioned to Devon. “We have to run to meet with the Hamiltons.” She rolled her eyes. “Love them, but Mrs. Hamilton is high-maintenance. She wants to redecorate while she’s here for three months.”
Addison thought about Mrs. Hamilton from her dance class earlier. “She’s already tried to set me up three times with different staff members or different ‘rich older gentlemen’ she thinks I would enjoy the company of.”
“Ugh. I should have warned you about her.” Cyree rolled her eyes and stomped her foot. “That lady, I keep telling her the staff isn’t allowed to date patrons.”
Addison grinned. “Don’t worry; I reminded her. Again.”
Cyree shook her head. “Sorry. Now the hard part of explaining to Mrs. Hamilton that she’s only here for three months in the summer: she doesn’t get to remodel.”
Addison watched her rush away toward the area of the beach that had the million-dollar beach houses. Cyree was sweet and tough. The woman was determined and a clear entrepreneur.
Devon also watched her go, and Addison could swear he gave her the look of someone who liked her as more than a co-manager.
Addison bit her tongue to keep from teasing Devon. With a smile, she headed toward the clubhouse, determined to get some lunch before her next class at five o’clock. Cyree might say the staff wasn’t allowed to date each other or patrons, but it seemed like Devon might be willing to break those rules.
Chapter 3
“This house is dope!” Ty rushed through the front doors, jittery as he looked back and forth at everything. He pointed to the stone statues next to the doors, and he spun in a full circle with his arms out. “Lions. Statues of lions, man. Can you believe we’re staying in a beach house with statues of lions in front of it?”
Boston followed, holding both suitcases. Apparently Ty didn’t mind having Boston cart his stuff around too much when he was distracted by lions.
Ty ran through the house toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, which had a glorious view of the beach. “Dude, we can watch television and watch the beach at the same time.” He let out a laugh, pointing to the side. “And swim in our infinity pool or soak in the hot tub.”
Boston put the bags down by the entrance, pulling the door shut behind him, then followed Ty into the huge living room, which was combined with the kitchen. Ty was right: this whole place felt unimaginable. The house, the view, the pool, and the hot tub were all pretty impressive.
Boston went to Ty’s side and scanned the shoreline. There was a long stretch of beach with no one on it. When he looked farther down toward the time-share part of the resort, he saw more people on the beach, but they wouldn’t be a bother. For the next month, the space in front of his house would be clear all the way to the ocean. “The beach will be great for my training,” Boston muttered. Beach runs were the hardest but the best for a running back trying to increase his power.
“True.” Ty moved to the door, unlatched it, and pushed it open. Salty air filled the room, and Boston followed him out onto a small deck with a couple of stairs that led down to the pool. Ty went toward the pool, a huge dopey smile on his face. “Dude, can you believe this?”
Boston gazed down at the large hot tub; with a cold tub to balance it out, and he’d have all the therapy he needed for his body. “It’s great.” He tinkered with the dial, noting the jets worked. He grinned, gazing down into the bubbling water. Hot tubs were his thing, so this was a huge perk. “This will be great for a soak after my training.”
Before he knew it, he felt a push against his back, and then he belly flopped into the hot tub. He emerged, sputtering and wiping the water from his face.
Ty was laughing and taking a picture. “The bros are gonna love this!”
Furious, Boston launched himself out of the hot tub and charged after Ty. Ty took off down the beach, running hard, phone in his hand as he typed away. But Boston was one of the best runners in the world, and he caught Ty in no time, gently giving him a shove to knock him down.
Ty rolled and kicked up a cloud of sand, then came to a stop, still laughing.
Boston stopped too, soaking wet, his jeans all tight and rigid, his shirt sticking to him. Then he swore, du
g inside his front pocket, and pulled his phone out. “Seriously, Ty!”
“Oh, the phone.” Ty tsked his tongue as he got up, but he focused on his own phone. “Sorry, bro.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.
Cursing, Boston yanked the phone out of the so-called waterproof case. This was a disaster. Without the connection to the outside world, this place would feel more like a prison than a luxury retreat.
The buttons worked, but he’d been through this before and knew it would go downhill fast. He rushed back toward the beach house, calling, “Rice!” He stomped up the stairs and into the kitchen, then threw open the cupboards. All were empty. He remembered that he’d gotten an email asking if he wanted them to stock some food, but he’d never responded.
Ty walked in, still staring at his phone. “Find any rice?”
Boston spun around, tempted to grab his brother, put him over his shoulder, and throw him in the pool, phone and all. He wouldn’t do that. Ever since Ty had been diagnosed, they’d all been more careful, even though Ty insisted they didn’t need to be. He’d even worried about the hard tackle on the beach back there. Luckily, Ty appeared all right. More than all right. If rice wasn’t so urgent right now, he’d go through with the dunking.
Maybe one of the other beach houses, or the clubhouse the guy had pointed to with the restaurants? Boston had always been good at geography, and he knew the quickest way to the clubhouse would be along the beach. If he saw any neighbors along the way, he could beg rice from them. He took off, sprinting. “I’ll be back in a sec, bro.”
Chapter 4
Addison navigated her way through the cafeteria workers who were finishing lunch or just coming in. It appeared that four o’clock was a busy time in between lessons and different activities. They’d had a wedding on the beach that morning, and now there was the extra wedding staff to feed.
The cafeteria was open for anyone working at the resort. Addison’s meals were covered as part of her payment, as was the little bungalow where she and her roommate, Shelly, stayed. With unlimited delicious food available to her, it took effort to keep the portions reasonable and healthy. Part of getting her body back in professional dancer shape was her diet, and she wasn’t progressing fast enough to compete for a spot on a dance company again.
Right now she was starving, feeling like she might have a borderline diabetic coma from low blood sugar. She took a chicken salad and some blackberries and put them on her tray along with a small cup of soup. As she stared at her food, she got hungrier and hungrier. The line was slow, and she was tempted to sip the delicious-smelling soup while she waited.
When she finally got through the line and paid with her employee card, she wandered around, trying to find a table next to the window so she could look out at the beach. Every table with a view was taken, so she continued to navigate through the throng of people. She was honestly a bit peeved she hadn’t been able to get in and out of the cafeteria as fast as she wanted. She had less than a half hour to eat and get back, which didn’t give her any time to read. She usually enjoyed a Taylor Hart book on her Kindle as she ate or at night when she couldn’t sleep. The books relaxed her, and she could use some of that now.
Someone bumped into her, hard, and she found herself flying through the air and her food from her tray launching in every direction. Even though her tray had been flung out of her arms, she was able to put her hands down before hitting her face on the ground.
“Sorry,” a gruff voice said. A strong hand shot out and grabbed her upper arm, lifting her quickly back to her feet.
The guy was huge. Not just tall, but solid, with wild blond hair that was long and disheveled. She noted his bright aqua-green eyes.
She yanked away from him. “Look what you’ve done!” She flung her hand toward the mess of food.
The guy was already assessing her food all over the floor. “Sorry.” He winced and then put up a hand. “I … I’ll be right back. I have to find rice.” He took off into the crowd, pushing and navigating and almost throwing more people to the ground.
She stared after him, her adrenaline pumping. Then she turned back to the mess and bent to pick up what she could, feeling so hungry she wanted to eat a berry from the floor.
“Are you okay?”
She turned and saw Jax Mullen, the bartender and one of the only people she really knew at The Palm other than Christian, Shelly, and Cyree and Devon. Jax frowned and looked at the mess. A different staff member had already arrived to clean up the food.
“Yeah.” She bent to pick up the empty cup of soup. “What a jerk!”
Jax scowled, looking at where the huge guy had disappeared into the kitchen. “I don’t know who that was, but that was just uncalled for.” His jaw clenched. “That dude needs to be taught a lesson.”
His caring words dissipated her previous annoyance. If anyone taught that buff guy a lesson, it wouldn’t be average Jax. Still, Addison couldn’t agree with the sentiment more. “Thanks, he does, but I don’t even have time to track him down. I have class soon. And now I have to go through that line again.” Her lip trembled, and she hated that she felt like crying.
He helped her pick up some berries and the silverware and gave them to the custodian, who was holding out a bucket.
The custodian shooed them away. “I saw the idiot hit you. I got this.”
Jax pointed out his table, which wasn’t too far away. “I have a lot of food. Want to join?”
“No.” She couldn’t take anything from him.
“I was supposed to meet Bill, the other bartender, but he got stuck doing some other stuff, so I really have a ton of food I won’t eat.” He gestured at his food: a bowl of soup, a huge salad, and two foot-long sandwiches, plus three cups of water and what looked like some assorted soda pops. “I just sat down. C’mon, join me?”
She hesitated. It’d never felt right to date since … everything. “I think I’m good.”
Jax cocked an eyebrow, and she remembered how he’d laughed and joked with her on the first day when she’d walked into Cyree’s office to sign paperwork. “C’mon, I was just going to cozy up to social media and waste my brain. If you join me, I could actually have human interaction.”
She laughed.
“I’ll even let you pick what you want first.”
He was being so nice, and she was starving. She hedged, not wanting him to think this was anything.
“As friends,” he offered.
It wasn’t surprising that he knew her story. Just as Cyree had informed her of the background of clients as they arrived, other people knew about her husband passing away. Shelly, the other dance instructor who shared her bungalow, told her. “Okay,” Addison said.
They got to his table and quickly divided the food, then removed his tray and sat.
She sat, grateful for his kindness and concern. “Thank you,” she said quietly, not even taking a chance to look at him; she didn’t want him to see how pathetic she was.
“No worries.”
He started eating, and she put her napkin on her lap and took a bite of the soup, closing her eyes.
“It’s good, right? Chicken noodle is the best. I always get it when they offer it.”
Feeling bad, she held out her full spoon. “I can share.”
The edge of Jax’s lip curved up and he shook his head, picking up one half of a huge sandwich. “Nope, I gave it to you.” He took a giant bite, making a growling sound. “Good food,” he said through the sandwich. Clearly he had horrible manners, but his antics relaxed her and made her laugh.
Addison relented, relishing each bite. She’d be sure to get the soup when it was available now, too.
For a few moments both of them just ate, and she was happy when the gnawing hunger finally relented. She took a sip of water and focused on Jax. He was already on to the second half of the sandwich. “What?” he asked when he caught her looked at him.
She grinned and decided he was a sweet guy. “Nothing. You like your sandwich?”
> He laughed and finished his current bite. “Hey, a man’s gotta eat.” Jax wasn’t heavy, but he wasn’t slim, either. Not athletic enough for her tastes. Of course, whenever she assessed a guy, she would always compare them to her husband. Jason had been almost six feet tall and muscular. He’d referred to himself as “wiry”; bull riders had to be.
Jax looked at her empty bowl and handed her the untouched salad. “Take what you want. I’ll eat the rest.”
The salad looked perfect, but she didn’t want to eat all his food.
Jax picked up on her hesitation again and scoffed. “Take it. I obviously am not going to starve. Did you see the size of that sandwich?”
She grinned and took the plate, pushing the bowl out of the way and then taking care to circumvent the dressing and pull out the chicken and the veggies. She took a bite, perfectly content—until she felt a damp hand against the back of her shoulder.
“Hey, I wanted to catch up to you.”
She jerked back, and for the second time that day she stared up at a behemoth of a man.
The man’s clothes were soggy, and she felt a trickle of water coming off of his hair. He stepped to the side of the table, glancing between her and Jax. He threw his hand up. “My stupid brother threw me in the hot tub down at the Pemberly, or whatever it’s called, and then I tried to find rice, but I couldn’t, because I forgot to answer the stupid email about stocking my kitchen. So I ran down here, and I didn’t realize that I was running right into you because all I could see was the kitchen, and for me, that’s like the end zone, you see?” He gestured like he was drawing a line from his head outward to the kitchen. “I just had a clear vision of where the ball would be, so I took it, not seeing the obstacle in the way.”
He was talking way too fast, and her head was spinning trying to keep up.
“But don’t worry. I found rice, and right now my phone is submerged—in rice, not water—so it’ll probably be okay. I mean, I doubt it took me longer than …” His head tossed back and forth. “… four minutes to run up that beach and into there. If I wouldn’t have wasted time running into you and helping you up, I would have gotten the phone in the rice faster. But there was that and then the kitchen staff couldn’t find just the plain rice and then a bowl with a lid.” He threw his hand up again, giving them both a crazy look. “You’d think in a kitchen that size they wouldn’t have a hard time finding a bowl and lid, right?” He slammed a hand down on the table, laughing. “Am I right?”