by Taylor Hart
Mrs. Baxter cheered and put up her hand. “I’m so excited.” She leaned into Ty. “You’re the most handsome guy I’ve ever had as my partner.”
“Hey,” Mr. Baxter called out. “Chopped liver, again?”
The whole class laughed.
Boston couldn’t believe how much he’d actually come to really like this class.
Today, he and Addison stayed at the back, and she began teaching him variations of different moves. The trouble with being only friends with Addison, Boston realized, was that Addison was hard to resist. She was not only beautiful, with her red hair, porcelain skin, slight vanilla scent; she was funny as well. She loosened up, and they were actually cracking jokes and having fun. And when they danced, it was a whole new form of communication. Her excitement was contagious, sending jolts of happiness through him every time he touched her.
By the end of the merengue, the class was dismissed and Ty waved Boston off, telling him he was going to the Baxters’ mansion to have a tour. Christian intercepted Boston, asking, “You ready for this?”
Boston grinned back. He liked Christian, a stand-up family man. “Born ready.”
Christian grunted, eyeing him up and down. “I need you in spandex shorts or pants tonight, and a tight T-shirt. I’ll bring you some dance shoes.”
Boston tensed. He hadn’t thought about wearing spandex. “O-kay.”
Christian cocked an eyebrow at him. “Listen, you’re better than average, but for this tryout, I need you to step up and take this seriously, because we cannot let her down. We have eight days.”
They looked over at Addison, who was hugging one of the older ladies, Mrs. Olsen. “I won’t let her down,” Boston said.
Christian nodded. “And don’t put the moves on her. She’s fragile right now.”
Boston turned to face him. Christian wasn’t a small guy, probably six feet tall, but he was slender and tough. Plus, Boston had noticed from some social media sites that the guy was dubbed ‘America’s Favorite Latin Lover Boy.’ He was a pretty famous dancer, having won a bunch of contests and been on a fair share of his own television shows. Boston cocked a jealous eyebrow in his direction. “You interested in her?”
“Of course,” laughed Christian. “Too bad she’s never been interested in me.”
Boston gained respect for the guy’s honesty.
Christian sighed. “I’ve known her a long time from the dance circuit. She really loved Jason, and I’m sad that she lost him.”
“No worries.”
Addison worked her way back to them, taking time to chat with all the old people who were waiting to chat with her.
Christian put his arm around her. “Okay. We’ll start practices tonight at seven.”
Boston didn’t like how Christian thought he could touch her so casually, but he told himself to chill out.
“Okay,” Addison agreed, smiling at Boston.
“And you’re going to start running with me in the mornings, right?”
Her smile faltered. “Really?”
He nodded. “You said you had to be tip-top. I can teach you some core training tactics that are awesome.”
“Why would you do that?”
He pointed to himself. “Winner. Always a winner.” He pointed to her. “That means we’ll do everything to give you the edge.”
She smiled again. “The Cutting Edge.”
He laughed at her reference. “Yep, so be thinking of the Pamchenko move we need.”
She laughed harder, a pure, unforced laugh that sent electricity running through his body.
Ty jogged back into the studio. “Hey,” he said, out of breath.
“I thought you were touring the Baxters’ house.”
“No, Mrs. Hamilton found me and tried to set me up with Shelly.”
“What?” Addison asked, appearing upset. “She shouldn’t be doing that.”
“Right, ’cause I’m dying?” Ty asked, standing taller. There was no sign of joking in his face.
“Quit saying that!” Boston burst out.
Addison’s eyebrows went up.
Boston glared at Ty, embarrassed of his outburst. “I told you to quit saying that.”
Widening his eyes, Ty turned to her. “Good luck with him. He’s a bit on edge.”
Addison looked between them. “Well, he’s right, because staff isn’t supposed to date the guests.” She sighed. “Mrs. Hamilton shouldn’t be trying to set anyone up.”
Ty shifted closer to her, his voice lowering. “But you’re not really staff, are you? ’Cause after the tryout, you’re done working here, right?”
Her face went red. “Um, I guess, technically, but—”
“Stop it, Ty.” Boston wanted to let her off the hook.
Ty shrugged, looking between them. “You guys going to start practicing?”
Boston gestured to Addison. “Tonight.”
With a huge smile, Ty said, “This is exactly like Dirty Dancing.” He put his fist up.
Boston rolled his eyes.
Addison shook her head, but laughed.
Christian grinned and fist-bumped Ty. “Maybe more Cutting Edge.” He winked at Boston.
“Exactly,” Boston agreed.
All of them cracked up.
Ty laughed. “Yes! Thank you for giving my brother something to do besides babysit me.”
Boston ignored him, turning to the door. “We have to run. See you tonight.”
“Okay,” said Christian. “See ya tonight.”
As Boston walked out, he glanced back and saw that Addison was watching him. There was no way he could just be her friend.
Chapter 12
Addison stretched as she waited for Boston to show up. He’d texted her an hour ago and asked if she wanted any dinner; he knew her class just ended and she wouldn’t have time to grab something. She’d said no to the offer, even though she was hungry. Instead, she munched on the protein bar she’d stuffed into her bag and went through her music. She and Christian had already choreographed different routines in three dance styles to show off for the judges, but they could still play with the music.
Christian walked in, a sandwich in his hand. “You ready?”
Addison nodded, not really nervous, per se—more excited to see what they could do.
Christian dropped his bag, hooked his phone up to the Bluetooth, and put on some rock music. This was an old routine they’d used to do, and she found herself chuckling at how it all came back to her as soon as they started in on the first steps. At the end, he dramatically lifted her overhead and spun her around.
They paused when they heard clapping from the doorway, letting them know Boston had slipped in unnoticed. Christian put her down and gave Boston a wide grin. “You may be a football player, but we’re going to teach you to do that.”
Once again, Addison’s nerves intensified just looking at the guy. Boston was dressed just as Christian had told him to: spandex shorts and a tight T-shirt that showed off massive muscles she’d felt but not seen. The man could be on the cover of any fitness or health magazine.
The tennis shoes wouldn’t work for dancing, though. Christian moved to his bag and pulled out the biggest pair of dance shoes she’d ever seen.
Boston took the shoes, inspecting them as if they might bite him.
Christian handed him some black socks to go with them, too. “They’re soft-soled leather, and once you go to these on the dance floor, you will never go back.”
“All right.” Boston dropped and exchanged his shoes.
Christian nodded and went to cue up the audio. “We’re going to show you the routine, and then we’ll start breaking it down for you and working with you on the most important points for you to help showcase Addison’s abilities.”
“Sounds good.”
Addison stayed next to Boston, hating to admit to herself that the man always put her a bit on edge. Since she’d met him, he’d let his facial hair grow out to that just barely sexy look on his face. “So how was the
appointment with Ty today?”
Boston stood, and she got a whiff of some kind of cologne. He frowned. “It’s a long road. He started some different injections today that target the cells affected by the disease. The serum is supposed to protect the vulnerable nerve cells.”
Her brow furrowed. “Is he okay?” Ty wasn’t here, which was unusual. Whenever she’d seen them around the resort, they’d always been together, except last night on the beach. Last night, when Boston had spilled his soul and admitted he wanted to be her partner.
Boston chuckled. “Na. That guy never lies around.” He snorted. “He met someone after the therapy today.”
“What?” She felt bad for being so surprised. “What do you mean?”
The side of his lip twitched up. “A girl at the facility we go to approached him while we were waiting and just started talking to him like they were old friends. It was weird.”
“Oh?” It was silly, but she found herself growing more invested in the Brady brother duo. How could Ty get involved when …
No, that wasn’t fair. Addison had no right to judge anyone. Being on the sad end of losing a spouse didn’t give her any reason to think that was okay.
Boston must have guessed what was in her mind. “She had cancer, but now she’s in remission.” He looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not for him to really get to know anyone.”
She nodded, understanding why Boston would feel that way. Jason was at the forefront of her mind. “No one ever knows when they’re going to die,” she said, smiling sadly. “I think all you can do is try to make the most out of life.”
Boston searched her face. “Good point.”
“All right,” Christian said, and the music came on.
Addison met Christian in the middle of the floor. They both waited for the music to cue, smiling at each other. Once the song hit the right point, they burst into a breakaway pivot, dancing around each other, their hands connected. They flew through the moves.
Addison was lost in the dance, in the way each move felt, in the way she and Christian had most of the routines down. The choreographed routine was comfortable, but lacked the thrill and freedom of being led by Boston. There were also a couple of sticky spots they glossed over—they’d still need to fix them before the real tryout.
The music changed, and they went into the next part of the routine. There were three different genres, and the last combination of the dance still felt rough to her. As they finished the routine and turned to look at Boston, he had a pensive look on his face.
She worried that they might have intimidated him. “So what do you think?”
His eyebrows creased. “We need a better finale, I can tell you that.” A flash of a grin lit up his face. “The Pamchenko.”
She let out a light laugh. “I love that idea. If we had eight weeks instead of eight days.”
“Right.” Christian moved back to the music, putting on a merengue song. “Let’s get the main steps of the routine down. The routine consists of variations of the merengue, the Viennese waltz, and the cha-cha.” He motioned Boston over.
Boston stood in front of Addison, and she put her hands in position on him. It was easier to face him like this, as a dance partner and not as a friend. A very handsome, very fit friend.
He reached out, but Christian changed the position of his hands and then put them on her body. Was she sweating already? It suddenly felt a little hot in here.
Christian said, “You’re good, Boston, but there’s some things I wanted to show you that will make you better. Simple things with the way you hold her.” He pushed his lower back up and then pulled his shoulders back. “With your posture.” He moved around Boston and stood behind Addison’s shoulder, making a gesture from his chest to his head. “Lift. Think of lifting your body in a straight line.”
Boston focused on lifting and doing what Christian said.
“This will put you on the next level.”
Boston nodded. “Let’s do it.”
As Addison started walking him through the steps, she saw him through a judge’s eyes. He was talented, but he had work to do to get his style to look … pretty. “Be lighter, Boston,” she told him. “Float more.”
“Float?” he asked, his face scrunched.
“Be like a feather, not a brick. A leaf, not a bowling ball.”
Boston chuckled and looked at Christian. “Pretty sure I’m being made fun of.” To Addison, he said, “You know I’m a running back, right?”
So he wanted it in football terms. “A running back gets the ball and runs forward like a … well, like a Freight Train.”
“Woo woo!” He pumped his arm.
“It requires a low center of gravity,” she said. “To knock other guys down and not get tackled.”
“Yeah.”
“Here on the dance floor, you need to be one leap away from launching into the atmosphere.” Like how she felt when the two of them got lost in the music.
“Let me get this straight,” Boston said, all snarky. “You want me put my head in the clouds? Aren’t you the one who told me to put my feet on the ground?”
“That’s the key,” said Addison. “Feet on the ground, head in the clouds.”
For the next four hours, they practiced. Christian would show Boston how to professionally do the move with her. He would break down how to change the grip, how to precisely hold her, turn her, look at her.
Addison noted, as they continued through the lesson, that Boston learned quickly. Maybe he wasn’t a professional dancer, but he was an above-average dancer and his footwork was good. It seemed almost effortless for him to rise up and be light on his feet. She wouldn’t have thought a huge guy like him could pick that up without years of study.
His natural athletic ability and his ability to catch on quickly were huge assets. He was only moderately trained, but he had discipline to him like no student she’d ever seen. The lower pit of Addison’s gut hummed, the way it did when she helped teach and train people to dance. She just might be able to pull off this audition after all.
At eleven o’clock, they knocked off. Christian pointed at Boston. “You’re doing good, man. Thank you. I … I don’t know how to repay you for covering for me.”
Boston snorted. “No payment required.” He changed out of his shoes.
Addison put on flip-flops to walk back to her bungalow.
Boston stood and gazed intently at her. “I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t want to.” The side of his lip tugged up. “Just ask my brothers.”
There was more to what Boston was saying than what he let on. She couldn’t help but feel that pull between them. Yet it was tainted with the guilt of betraying the man she’d thought she would be married to forever. She’d thought she’d have kids with Jason, share a life with him. Those dreams were gone, but not forgotten. She picked up her bag. “Thank you.”
They all walked out, and the rush of the humid air hit her. She sucked in a breath. It felt cleansing, so refreshing.
Once they reached the bungalow path, Christian stopped and eyed her. “You coming?”
“Or you could walk on the beach with me?” Boston asked.
Addison smiled; Boston’s suggestion sounded good. “I’m going to walk the beach.”
Christian hesitated, then nodded. “Be safe.”
“I will.”
Boston stayed next to her as she walked past the clubhouse and through the parking lot and toward the beach. “Are you going to do your ocean thing?”
She blushed, feeling nervous. “You know, it wasn’t a thing, but I may take a dip.”
“Want to …?” He stopped. “Never mind, you probably want to do it by yourself.”
She didn’t know how to answer. “I wouldn’t mind if a friend joined me.”
He grunted. “Of course, you’re friend-zoned, so you don’t have to worry about me.”
This made her laugh. “So you ‘officially’ friend-zoned me?”
“Ye
p.” He winked at her. “Unless you don’t think you can handle seeing me with my shirt off.”
She scoffed. Boston knew how to lay out a challenge. “Whatever.”
They got to his house and dropped their dance bags on dry sand.
She grinned at him. “What are you waiting for?”
He tugged his shirt off, and she had to forcibly keep her eyes on his. He laughed and flexed his bicep. “You’re checking out the guns—admit it.”
Grateful that the darkness was hiding her blush, she punched his shoulder and then turned, tugging off her wrap. “You wish.”
He laughed again. “Maybe I do.”
She ignored his comment, staring at the ocean and trying not to dwell on the feelings she was beginning to have for this man.
“Show me how it’s done,” he said, holding his hand out to the water.
“Um, apparently I’ve been doing that all week.” She added a little sharpness to the words to make sure he knew she hadn’t forgotten about being spied on.
A hearty chortle rumbled from Boston’s throat, carrying over the beach and mixing with the sound of the waves. “Fair’s fair,” he said. “Watch this.” He took off sprinting straight into the oncoming waves.
Chapter 13
Boston didn’t know how he’d ended up swimming in the ocean at midnight with the hottest woman he’d ever met. Dang, Addison Adair had catapulted to the top of his list way too quickly.
She splashed him, diving into the water. “You can’t catch me!”
He grabbed her ankle and pulled her back. She struggled, kicking him in the side. Laughing, he let her go.
Her head came up. “Not as tough as you thought, Boston Brady.”
Growling playfully, he grabbed her and pulled her closer. She tried to get free, but he had her wrapped up too well. “Teach you to splash me,” he said in her ear; then he shoved her free and submerged himself so he could come at her from a different angle.
The next twenty minutes were filled with more splashing, playing, and laughing. It was nice to just hang with someone. They were toeing between flirting and friendship, and Boston had never really had a relationship like this. He thought about how his brother Ziggy had recently gotten back together with his high school love, Sophia. Ziggy had always said that he and Sophia had been best friends far before they’d fallen in love.