The Dancing Groom: Royal Palm Resort (Brady Brother Romances Book 3)

by Taylor Hart

  “What?” He slammed his hands down in the air. “You’re a Surf fan?”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t call myself a football fan, but if I had to pick, it would be the Surf.”

  He blew out a long breath. “Well, that’s going to make it hard to leave them.”

  “So are you leaving the team?” she asked.

  He sighed. “Maybe. Coaches and I don’t really see eye to eye, and I’d love to be on my brother Ocean’s team.”

  “I read that you’re mad about not starting.” She didn’t mention the social media drama that some people claimed was affecting his contract negotiations and even how much playing time he got.

  His face contorted into an expression she didn’t recognize. “Yep.”

  “Well, dancing will definitely help your agility.”

  “Yep. And it will be a nice distraction from what’s going on with my brother and …” He let out a breath and looked away again.

  She got the feeling the “and” was for the other source of drama in his life, which she didn’t care to know more about. She wanted to ask more about Ty. Tentatively, she asked, “Is the doctor going to be able to help him?”

  Boston swallowed, then sighed. “He thinks he can slow the symptoms, but that’s all. So all week I’ve been going with him and he’s been hooked up to this I.V. of stuff that dampens his immune system and bulks up his nerve cells or something.”

  Addison’s heart ached. She couldn’t even imagine what that would be like.

  He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “I need a distraction. Ty told me that again today. He says I’m like a fluttery old woman.” He rolled his eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” And she was. “I don’t know much about ALS, really.”

  His eyebrows tugged together. “Three to five years is usually what they give a diagnosis. The disease attacks your nerves, which leads to shrinking muscles. It sucks.”

  She nodded.

  “Dr. Cruz has done advanced research on prolonging those numbers. He even pontificates that he might have a cure if he can get the DHA and RHA, and …” Boston let out a long breath. “It’s complicated and I’m happy to explain it all; I just need a whiteboard.”

  She laughed, feeling bad for him. “It’s okay.” This guy was more than a shallow social media diva after all.

  It felt so simple now. So—different from earlier. She liked how much he cared about his brother.

  “So you’ll have me as your dance partner?” He looked vulnerable. This big, intense man was vulnerable, which made her feel jittery and on edge.

  “I will,” she found herself saying.

  They went silent, and an awkward glance passed between them.

  Boston said, “I feel like I should be down on one knee or something.”

  Addison’s face flamed in a blush, and she put her hands up to cover it. “I mean, yes, thank you.” I will? Where had that come from?

  He laughed even harder.

  She actually smiled. They were just talking like two normal people now.

  “What are you thinking?” He pointed at her.

  She sighed. “It’s nice to see you’re just a normal guy.”

  “Not normal. I mean … not that.” He threw up his hands. “Nobody wants to be normal.”

  “Fine, you can pretend like you’re normal a little bit.”

  He wagged his eyebrows at her. “I can pretend for a little bit, until Mr. Baxter steals you away.”

  She laughed, again. “That day was crazy.”

  “I wasn’t going to have you taken away from me. I had barely gotten to know you.”

  The look in his eye, the way his body angled toward her—it felt like they were flirting, and she didn’t know if she liked it. “Ahh, I should go.”

  “Wait, we were talking and it was nice. Why do you have to go?”

  The truth was that Boston made her feel things she hadn’t felt in a long time. “I just better go.” She turned, walking away. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

  “No.” He moved next to her. “I don’t accept the end of this conversation, because I’ve wanted to talk to you all week.”

  “Then why haven’t you just talked?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I felt bad about acting so—”

  “Cocky and superior?”

  He laughed. “Exactly, so why does this have to be over?”

  She decided to be honest. “Listen, you like the thrill. You like the flirtation. You like the attention. I’ve seen your social media between you and your ex.”

  “That’s nothing.”

  She shrugged. “You guys have been bickering all week.”

  He let out a long breath. “Who says the word bicker besides moms?”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  Boston lifted his shoulders. “Yeah, it’s kind of a weird thing between us. Ever since this thing with Ty, I’ve been trying to just stay away, but she keeps luring me back into the battle.”

  “Exactly,” she said, feeling surer of herself. She knew her face would be getting red and was grateful it was dark out. “See, I’ve known guys like you.” She let out a skittering laugh. “So many guys like you.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Hmm. Right.”

  “Before I met my husband,” she said, suddenly defensive, “I am not proud to say I was interested in men like you.”

  “And … please clarify what ‘men like me’ are?”

  She thought about her previous boyfriends she’d gotten caught up with in L.A. before Jason. “Men who like the game. They like the challenge, but after they get what they want, they don’t really like to face reality.”

  Boston went quiet. He lifted his brows but didn’t deny it. “Ouch.”

  She couldn’t help the next part. “But you might be different, Boston Brady.”

  He snorted. “You tear me down, then tell me I’m not that bad after all.”

  She waved away his statement. “No, you are those things, but you’re not those things with Ty.” She smiled. “And you’re going to be my tryout partner, so …”

  “So maybe I’m not too bad of a guy.”

  “Jury’s still out.”

  He laughed, then pointed at her. “Listen, I’m tough and I won’t quit on you. Last season, last game, we were down by six, and I caught the pass, ran it, got slammed to the ground, and my shoulder was yanked out. So much pain.”

  “O-kay.”

  “I played the rest of that game, scored the winning touchdown, even though it hurt. Why? Because that’s what I do. And,” he said more softly, “that’s what I’ll do for you.”

  She blew out a breath. “I actually believe that you want to help me. I guess I’m confused and a little afraid.”

  “Why?” Boston demanded.

  “Because I’m not good with trusting people.”

  He sized her up. “You can trust me. I may be a lot of things on social media, but the guy you see with Ty, that’s the guy I am in here.” He put a hand to his chest. “Bradys are trustworthy to a fault.”

  Still unsure, she nodded.

  He took a step closer to her. “Did something happen to you so you don’t trust people? Did someone hurt you?” The way he said it, she could plainly see he wanted to hurt somebody for her.

  She smiled and turned to face the ocean. “I moved a lot growing up, and I always felt like, sure, I had my parents, but I never had friends. A place to call home.”

  He stood in front of her and stared into her eyes. “Until Jason and that small town in Nebraska.”

  The intensity of his gaze sent her heart racing. “You have done your research.”

  He let out a light laugh. “As you and Ty have both said, I’m used to living in the online world.”

  Her gaze lowered to the ground. “I lost my mom at sixteen. I still miss her. We had just kinda come to the place where we were friends, ya know?”

  He nodded.

  Jason’s face popped into her mind. “And I guess in
some ways …” She trailed off, not wanting to admit her feelings.

  “What?”

  Unwanted tears misted into her eyes. “I’m mad at Jason because he left me. And I know that’s stupid, but I was going to be a mother and have kids and …” Her hands shook and she wondered why she was telling him all of this.

  “And what?”

  “I haven’t been in the professional dancing scene in two years.” She held up two fingers. “I don’t know what I was thinking; nobody just comes back out of nowhere after that. I’m trying to tighten up, be in shape, get back what I’ve lost while being gone. Meanwhile, every other dancer in the world has just kept getting better.”

  “You’re tight and in shape,” Boston said quickly.

  Embarrassed, she shook her head.

  “I mean, not that I’m looking, but you wear leotards all the time.”

  She laughed.

  He almost touched her hand, then pulled his back. “What I mean is … I know how it feels to feel like you’re floating in a way. When my dad passed a few years ago, I felt that way. I’m a middle child, yeah, boohoo. But my dad always got me, like he could take the floating balloon string and tether me a bit. And I felt more grounded around him.”

  Addison’s skin rippled with goose bumps. That glimmer of a real Boston Brady under the empty façade was shining through again.

  He reached for her hand.

  “Don’t.” She pulled away and started walking.

  “I touch your hand all the time when I dance with you.” He kept pace with her.

  “That’s … different.”

  “Why? We’re—”

  “What?” she challenged.

  “Friends.”

  “Friends?” she asked. That felt like just the right level of real. Friends she could probably handle.

  “Yep. And I’m in. I’m even going to go off social media for the next week and a half.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Do you need a twelve-step program?”

  He grunted. “Ask me tomorrow. But here’s the deal. You have to be committed, too. I mean, you’re going to run with me, we’re going to give this an all-in Cutting Edge, that old eighties movie kind of thing. You know, the hockey player and the ice-skating girl.”

  She knew it. “‘Toe pick,’” she quoted, raising one eyebrow.

  “Yes! You remember it.” His smile was as happy and pure as she’d seen all week.

  Once they arrived at her bungalow, she stopped. “This is me.”

  He looked up as if only just realizing where they were. “Oh. Right. Listen, we can do this.”

  Addison felt a tremor of nerves. They were talking about the tryout, but it felt like it went much deeper with him. She simply said, “Okay.” Friends.

  “And I always win. So that means you’re going to get what you want.”

  His words actually comforted her. “Is that a promise?”

  He nodded and turned away from her. “It’s the Brady Guarantee.”

  As much as she wanted to mock that, she couldn’t deny that she believed in him.

  Chapter 11

  “Oh, baby, give me one more chance,” Ty sang out. This Michael Jackson song was The Song he and all of his brothers had always sung growing up. His father had called them the Brady Five, and he’d had them all do the dance and everything. Ty had sung the lead. Lately, the song had symbolized a love song for his brothers Dax and Ziggy.

  “One, two, three, four, five, six, back to your arms.” Ty snapped and flipped the eggs he’d been scrambling.

  Boston rolled his eyes and chugged his protein shake. “I don’t know why you’re singing that stupid song. Nothing happened with Addison last night, so chill.”

  Ty glanced over his shoulder. “Chill? Chill?” He scrambled them a bit longer. “Not what I’m hearing from your body language, bro.”

  Maybe Boston was happy today. “I told her I would help her do the dance tryout.”

  Ty grinned and put out a fist.

  Boston fist-bumped him back.

  Ty laughed. “Good. Do the tryout; I’m tired of you hovering.”

  “You’ve mentioned that.”

  Ty scooped eggs on Boston’s plate and onto his own. He added strawberries and toast for himself. “You don’t want the carbs, right?”

  Boston nodded, pulling the plate toward him. “Thanks.” He bowed his head, a habit instilled by a hard-knocks Catholic school and a mother who had them say prayers if they lost a shoe.

  Ty bowed his head and led out. “Father, thank you for this day. Thank you for Dr. Cruz. Thank you for my mom and brothers. Please prepare them for all that is coming and comfort them. Amen.”

  Boston stared at him once the prayer was over. “‘Prepare them’? What the crap is that, Ty? Your treatments are going well. Dr. Cruz told us yesterday that he was surprised at how well the nerve cells seem to be responding.”

  Ty shrugged and shoved some bacon into his mouth. “It’s nothing. It’s what I pray for you guys.”

  Boston was ticked, but he picked up his fork. “Don’t do that.”

  “You can’t tell me what to pray for.”

  Boston’s patience was running thin with his brother and his incessant talk about living like he was dying. He put his fist into Ty’s face. “Will this convince you not to pray for me?”

  Ty was quiet.

  Boston’s heart raced. He stood and turned away from the table, running a jittery hand through his hair. “I mean it. Don’t pray for us, just …” He waved a hand into the air, not wanting to get in a fight with his brother right now.

  “I’m closer to the Big Guy more now than ever before.”

  Boston glared at him.

  “I won’t drone on about my relationship with God, okay? But I want you to know that both of us think it’s cool you’re helping Addison.” He wagged his eyebrows. “She’s hot.”

  Boston grumbled and sat back down at the table. “God thinks she’s hot?”

  Now Ty glared at him. “Don’t be an idiot.” He pointed his fork at himself. “I think she’s hot.” He pointed his fork at Boston. “Much hotter than Lana. Not that Lana isn’t hot in the ‘look at me, I’m such a fake Barbie punk girl’ kind of way.” He stuffed a bite of eggs into his mouth. “Addison is real hot. Totally real.”

  “Hmph.” Boston couldn’t argue with that. Ty’s assessment of Addison’s realness hit pretty close to home.

  Ty stuffed more food in. “And what do you have against God?”

  Boston took another bite and ignored Ty’s question.

  Ty wagged a finger at him. “You’ve been mad at him since Dad.”

  Boston paused mid-chew. He was right, but Boston didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Dude, you’ve got to forgive before you can move on. And you’ve got to let go of Lana before you can have anything with Addison.”

  Boston was done with his brother’s advice. “That’s enough out of you.”

  Ty put up his hands up, surrendering. “Fine, but as you know, the treatments aren’t affecting me in an adverse way. I can get myself to and from my appointments, so … take extra time if you need it.”

  “No,” Boston said, incredulous. “I’m here because I want to do this with you.”

  Ty hesitated. “Bro, I know you all are concerned and trying to help me, but I kinda need some space, okay?”

  “Forget space. We’re brothers.”

  Ty gave him a warning look.

  “What?” Boston countered. “The doctor said the stuff they’re going to be putting inside of you is going to weaken you. I’m not letting you go to your appointments by yourself.”

  Ty sucked in a breath. “Don’t make me say, ‘I’m dying, so I get to choose how to live.’”

  Boston pointed at him. “You just said it.”

  Ty shook his head and stood, taking his plate to the sink. “I’m not having you stuck to me like glue every second.” He raked a hand through his hair. “That gets really annoying.”

  Bosto
n stood, picking up his own dishes. “I don’t care what you want. I’m here to be with you, and I’m going to be with you.” He nodded at him. “Thank you for breakfast.”

  Ty glared, but then sighed as Boston nudged him out of the way and started on the dishes. “You can come today, but you’re not coming every day. It has to be an ‘as needed’ kind of thing.”

  Once he thought a bit about it, Boston understood how it would suck to have someone always fluttering over you. “Fine,” he agreed, spinning to face Ty. “But you have to tell me the truth about how you’re feeling with the treatments.”

  Ty nodded, though there was a mischievous glint in his eye. “Fine. If you tell me how you’re feeling with Addison.”

  “That’s not fair,” said Boston, though it was completely fair.

  “Your call,” said Ty.

  “Fine.” That was probably the only way Boston would get his brother to be open and honest with him. “We’re friends, and that’s a direct quote.”

  Ty rolled his eyes.

  Boston wasn’t ready to admit that he wanted more. He was going to do whatever he had to in order to make it more real with Addison, and that meant cutting out the fake parts of his life. He spent a few minutes wiping up the kitchen, then sat at the counter with his phone. One by one, he signed out of his social media accounts and deleted the apps off of his phone.

  Ty looked over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting over Lana—once and for all.”

  When Boston arrived at the dance class, things felt different with Addison. Not in a bad way, though. She went to his side and grinned at him. “Can you stay after, and we’ll go through a couple of things with Christian and nail down the practice times?”

  He nodded. “Ty’s appointments are in the afternoon, so I can practice every night, as long as we need to.” He shrugged, thinking of what Ty had said earlier. “And Ty doesn’t want me to go to all of his appointments, so I can even practice some afternoons.”

  Their eyes held, and it would be stupid to deny the growing attraction he was feeling for Addison. “Great,” she said.

  Friends, he told himself as they moved through the dances with the class. That was okay for starters while he was getting his feet under him and back on planet Earth again.