by Taylor Hart
The fact that he’d guessed it kind of ticked her off. “No.”
He laughed and turned back, leading the way down the steps and to the path. “Yeah, he’s kind of a piece of work, right? But I like Ty. Man,” he said, blowing out a breath, “tough deal for him with the ALS.”
“Yeah.” Addison had been half watching Ty. He was a good dancer, and he was so friendly.
They got down to the main path, where you could either go toward the main lobby or go to the staff bungalows. She hesitated. There had been another wedding that night, and people were still out on the beach, dancing under a tent. People trailed off the beach toward the main lobby. Valets stood ready to retrieve their cars.
It was a beautiful night, and the best part of it all was the sound of the ocean. Under the light of the moon, it was breathtaking.
Christian turned toward the staff bungalows. They were located much farther back than the beachfront properties, and on most nights, you couldn’t hear the ocean even with the windows open. “Are you coming?”
Her place was only two doors down from Christian’s. She actually hated turning in for the night. It was the time of day she thought the most about Jason, missing him almost to the point of physical pain. “I think I’m going to walk on the beach for a bit.”
Christian hesitated. “Be careful. Stay on the beach side by the mansion houses; just don’t get caught over there.”
Addison grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Gotta give the richies their privacy, right?”
Christian nodded, understanding her need to walk at night. “Okay.”
“I won’t be long.” She carefully picked her way across the parking lot, staying out of the way of several limos. When she got to the path that led straight to the beach, she steered clear of the wedding and walked toward the mansion houses.
Tugging in a long breath, she felt her chest finally relax. She liked being on the beach at night with the ocean as her company. It was the only thing big enough to fill the emptiness of the loss she’d experienced.
Plus, it’d been an interesting day. Her thoughts went to the man she’d been assigned to be dance partners with for the next two weeks: Boston Brady.
After the lesson, Shelly had gone on and on about how lucky she was to be his partner. Addison had quickly told Shelly that she could have him. Shelly had been ecstatic and gone on even more about Boston and Ty Brady. “Boston just had a very public breakup with his on again, off again girlfriend, Lana Winters.”
“Why do their names have to all be so dramatic?” Addison had asked.
Shelly had scoffed. “Right. If you ask me, your name sounds made up.”
Addison hadn’t liked the snippy tone in Shelly’s voice. “My husband’s last name was Adair, okay?” she’d fired back.
“Sorry.” Shelly had then continued prattling about the Brady brothers.
Addison bent and took off her flip-flops, putting them in her dance bag. She loved the feel of the sand between her toes. A wave made it up far enough to tickle her feet. “Jason,” she whispered.
It’d been almost six months since that stupid heart attack. She’d met him on Dancing with the Stars. He’d been the star bull rider from Nebraska that really couldn’t dance. It’d been a tough road working with him, but somewhere along the way, she’d been won over, and not because of his dancing skills. It was his annoying gentleman-ness, his heart of gold, and his desire to settle down and have his own family.
Falling in love with a man like that had never been in her life plan, but it had happened. She’d gone back to his little town in Nebraska and married him. It was a million miles from this soft sand beach, and it’d been wonderful, even though the only dancing she did was teaching classes at the local YMCA.
They’d planned for a family, and that plan didn’t include traveling the world with Jive.
She put her hand to her stomach. The plan didn’t work for them; they hadn’t been able to have children. Just days after starting the process of fertility treatments, Jason had had the heart attack.
Addison stopped in front of one of the huge mansion houses. The lights were out and no one appeared to be around. It was as safe as anywhere to enjoy the beach, though technically this area was off-limits to staff. She turned back to the ocean.
Between the warmth of the day, her sweat, and her hair sticking to her, she felt a bit gritty and longed to cool herself off in the water. Betting on the fact that no one would even know she was down on the beach, she moved to the dry sand and pulled off the dance wrap she wore when walking around the resort, leaving her wearing only a leotard. She dropped her bag and laid her wrap on it. Slowly, she walked toward the water, letting the ebb and flow of the ocean waves lap against her feet and ankles. Her feet sank into the sand.
She thought of Jason and the familiar stab to the heart, as sharp as ever, hit her like her own heart attack. She pressed a palm to her chest. “Baby …” Going to the hospital, his face ashen, breaths coming fast and ragged.
His hands had been so cold.
A couple of months after the funeral, she’d had to face the facts: Nebraska wasn’t her home without him. So she’d left.
“I miss you,” she murmured. She walked into the water, letting the waves hit her until the water washed completely over her.
Chapter 7
Boston was up late after a full day with Ty, alone in his room, finally catching up on the social media battle, and he was barely making a dent. Lana had been busy, and with sunup-to-sundown activities, Boston was losing the fight.
If he was honest with himself, his heart wasn’t in it. Compared to everything going on with Ty, the fighting was petty and useless. And the dance class with Addison was replaying in his mind. After the authenticity of watching her dance and holding her while they danced together, this online argument in front of people he didn’t even know felt like smoke—it would evaporate as soon as he shut off his phone.
He should just call it a night and turn in. But even after the long, busy day, his mind was still racing. Time for a run. He didn’t like to do morning and night runs, but sometimes a restless mind needed a body at work. At least that’s what his father had always said.
Boston suited up, and within minutes he was running barefoot in the zone where the ocean met the sand, pump-up music pounding in his ears.
The air was humid. South Carolina ocean and Miami ocean were basically the same. Whenever he went to the Pacific coast or Hawaii, he was surprised all over again at how the ocean and its smell and warmth could be so different on each shore.
Tomorrow they would go to the treatment center for Ty. Boston was nervous about it. It had to cure his brother. Dr. Cruz was world renowned in his advanced treatment for ALS; he had to be able to help Ty.
Since the diagnosis, Boston and his brothers had been obsessed with finding a cure. Any time something new came out, they would send out a text thread. Anything cutting-edge they would go talk to specialists about it. All of them were invested, but he and Ocean seemed the most gung ho. It’d been Boston who had found this specialist in South Carolina, and he’d researched the new treatment for ALS. Dr. Cruz didn’t promise a cure, but he did promise that his treatment was able to slow the symptoms substantially.
It would work. It had to. That would buy them time to find someone else who was developing a cure.
Running laps back and forth in the private area of the beach until he’d gone about three miles, Boston let the nerves about Ty’s condition and upcoming treatment flow out of him in his sweat, through his feet into the sand, and out into the cleansing salty air with every breath.
When he got back to the Pemberly, he slid open the rental house door and walked to the kitchen. He pulled a water bottle out of the fridge, not turning on any lights, and shut off the music that blared through his AirPods. After putting the pods in their case and leaving them on the counter with his phone, he took his water to the deck.
He sat in a reclining sun chair by the pool, taking a deep bre
ath and enjoying the solitude of the night. Now he could wind down and call it a night.
Closing his eyes, he tried to relax his body, thinking of the exercises the therapist had taught him three years ago. When his father had passed, his anxiety had gotten out of control, and he’d broken down and gotten help. Well, strike that. His brothers had ganged up on him and made him get help. Kind of like what they were doing now with Ty.
Lana wasn’t helping, as she roasted him incessantly. She didn’t get it. Again, he was torn between rejoining the digital war and just staying here with the gentle crashing waves and moonlight on the water.
“Let it go, man,” he told himself. That was easier said than done.
He visualized blue energy misting over his neck, shoulders, biceps, triceps, and down to his forearms. His chest rose and fell as if out of his control. The blue mist rolled down his abs and his hips, his glutes, his thighs.
He heard some splashing and his eyes snapped open. A palm tree was blocking part of the ocean from his view. He leaned to the side, straining to get a look around it.
Right in front of him, walking straight into the ocean, was Addison.
All semblance of calm fled his heart as it took off again, leaving him paralyzed.
Even though he could only see her silhouette against the backdrop of the moon, he knew it was her long, lithe dancer body. She only wore her leotard, and her hair clung to her back. She walked into the waves, not stopping to do a dive into the water. Slow, ethereal, unreal, as though the water didn’t affect her. Then she was submerged.
He sat up, unable to believe the woman who’d invaded his thoughts throughout the day was here. It was after midnight, so what was she doing right here behind his rental? As an employee, she had access to the guest records, and he’d straight out told her he was staying at the Pemberly. Could it possibly be coincidence that she was right here at his place?
Boston didn’t move. He waited.
For what felt like a long time, there was no sign of her. Just as Boston stood, ready to rush into the water, her head emerged, then her body, and she slicked her hair back gracefully like the dancer she was.
Everything she did was graceful, but when she danced, she took it to an inhuman level. Since hearing about her stint on Dancing with the Stars, he’d looked her up. It hadn’t been easy to get access for a few minutes to do it. Ty was still seriously hyped up, like a junior high kid on caffeine. He was insatiable, wanting to do the next thing and the next and the next. With the war going on, any time on Boston’s phone would be attributed to Lana, so he had to catch the videos of her when he could.
After they had done tennis and lunch and horseback riding and dinner, he’d told Ty he’d needed a break. So Boston had gone to his room and watched a couple of videos of Addison Clarke—her name before she’d married the bull rider in season three. It was almost unfair to the contestants who didn’t end up as Addison’s partner, because she really did make anyone look good.
The marriage only lasted about two years. News stories about the bull rider’s heart attack were everywhere on the internet. They all mentioned he’d been survived by his wife, Addison, his Dancing with the Stars partner.
Now, as he watched her take a breath and dive again, all that anger when they’d danced together made more sense. Just a few months ago, her world had come crashing down around her head, and then here comes Boston, acting like he had a thing with her just because they danced well together.
They did have chemistry when on the dance floor, and when she’d stomped on his foot, it’d ticked him off. Of course, he’d refused to show her how much it’d hurt. For the rest of the lesson, he’d done any dance she threw at him. Addison had turned up the dial and outshone him on every one.
Ty had teased that she’d bruised Boston’s ego. Pfft! Whatever. Boston grunted and lay back, grateful that he could remain hidden from her.
After a few moments, she emerged from the water, looking sad. He wanted to go talk to her, but something held him back. She wouldn’t want company, would she? Again, he wondered why she’d chosen his rental for this late-night dip.
Not once did she so much as glance in his direction. He just stayed on his lawn chair while she gathered her bag and her flip-flops and wandered back down the beach toward the clubhouse. When she was gone, he closed his eyes and tried not to wonder just how much the woman missed her bull rider.
Chapter 8
“What do you mean, you won’t be able to do the audition with me?” Addison exclaimed, not caring that the room was filling with their dance lesson patrons. She didn’t care that she wasn’t being professional, nor did she care that Christian looked sick to his stomach.
“I’m sorry,” Christian said, leaning into her and keeping his voice down. “It looks like my sister’s baby is going to be a preemie, and her husband is overseas, so she asked me to come that week and …” He blew out a breath. “I have to go.”
Addison was stunned. “What?” She frowned and put a hand out to touch his arm.
Christian’s face was lined with concern. “She’s kinda freaking out. I want to go now, but she told me to wait until the due date to have more time with her after the baby comes.”
Thinking about Christian’s sister made Addison soften with compassion, and she nodded. It was a tough pill to swallow, but his situation was way more important. “It’s fine.” Seventeen days until the audition.
“I’ll make some calls and see if there’s someone nearby who can do the tryout with you.”
Addison knew it would be hard to find someone with enough skill who could spend the time to prepare for the audition. “It’s fine.”
“You could do a solo,” Christian offered.
“I want to perform as a couple.”
“I know, but a solo might get you in.”
She played with the necklace around her neck and wanted to yank it off. “No, I need a partner. I’m better with a partner.” Given her area of expertise and her current level of fitness and skill level, a partner might mean the difference between making the team and getting laughed off. But it had to be the right partner. An amateur would only make her look worse.
Christian nodded. “I’ll start calling around this afternoon.”
“I appreciate it. Your sister is more important than the audition.” The words were true, but they still stung.
She spun away in frustration, then froze. She hadn’t realized he had slipped into the class with the rest of the students, but Boston Brady stood to the side of the door, putting a bag down and looking guilty for eavesdropping. His eyes were curious and seemed impossibly bluer today than before.
“It will work out, Ads. It has to,” Christian said softly.
Addison yearned to run away. Dance was usually a joyful distraction to hard things in life, but right now she felt like her foundation was crumbling. She nodded and turned back to her dance bag, picking up her phone to take her mind off the bad news.
“It’ll be okay,” Shelly offered, suddenly next to her.
Addison smiled at her, grateful for the beautiful brunette ballerina. “Thanks.”
Shelly moved to Christian. “And your sister is going to be fine.”
Addison bit her lip. She hadn’t been very sensitive to the needs of his family and the coming baby. Thoughts of the IVF doctor they’d seen two days before the heart attack trickled into her mind. She cringed.
“Do you need to sit out this class?” Christian put his hand on her shoulder. “Or are you okay?”
Gulping back her emotion, she plastered on her professional face. “I can do it.”
Christian moved to the front of the classroom. “Okay, please partner up and let’s review the cha-cha. You all did so well yesterday. I also wanted to mention that at the end of these dance lessons we’ll be doing a talent showcase, and you’ll all get to participate in that. So, make sure you and your partner are learning the dances and please ask if you need help. Okay, we’ll be moving on to a requested one—cou
ntry swing.”
“Yeah, boy!” Ty called out. He held his fist out to Boston, who rolled his eyes but fist-bumped him back.
It made Addison smile to see that even though Boston’s brother kind of annoyed him, he put up with him. But it didn’t outweigh her current predicament. A skilled partner was essential to a successful audition, and there simply wasn’t anyone besides Christian with the talent she needed. Not to mention the time they’d already sunk into rehearsing.
What would she do?
Everyone started walking toward their partners. Shelly pointed to an older gentleman, Mr. Baxter. “That’s who I’m switching you for.”
Her tone had a bit of an edge to it, but Addison didn’t care. Not having to dance with the handsome, muscular, cocky football player was the first thing that had gone right today. She turned to Mr. Baxter, pasting on a smile even though at the moment she felt hopeless. “Hello.”
Mr. Baxter grinned. “Are you my partner today?”
“I am, Mr. Baxter.”
He winked at her. “You can call me Hank.”
“Hey,” Mr. Olsen said, breaking into their conversation and pointing to Addison. “If people are switching it up, I want you as a partner.”
Mr. Baxter snorted. “No.”
“Sorry,” she said with a smile. “Already taken.”
Mr. Olsen took his cigar out, pointing it at her. “I’m serious. I want you.” He flashed her a grin. “You can call me Clyde.”
Hank barked out a laugh. “Will you stop, Clyde? She’s mine.”
Christian whisked the cigar out of Clyde’s hand. “No cigars in class, Mr. Olsen, even if they aren’t lit. I don’t want your sweet bride losing an eye.” He gave him a push. “Now go to Cynthia and enjoy the dancing.”
Clyde frowned. “Fine.”
His wife, Cynthia, took his hand. “Will you stop acting like a ninny? You’re stuck with me, and I’ve told you I hate those things.”