Dancing on the Sand
Page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Roxanne St. Claire. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Barefoot Bay remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Roxanne St. Claire, or their affiliates or licensors.
For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds
Table of Contents
Copyright
Title Page
A Message from Roxanne St. Claire
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
About the Author
Other Works by Marilyn Baxter
Copyright 2017 Southern Collective, LLC, Huntsville, Alabama
Dancing on the Sand
Marilyn Baxter
A Message from Roxanne St. Claire
Dear Reader,
Welcome to Barefoot Bay Kindle World, a place for authors to write their own stories set in the tropical paradise that I created! For these books, I have only provided the setting of Mimosa Key and a cast of characters from my popular Barefoot Bay series. That’s it! I haven’t contributed to the plotting, writing, or editing of Dancing on the Sand. This book is entirely the work of Marilyn Baxter, an author and dear friend who is no stranger to Barefoot Bay.
In her second story set on the sun-washed shores, Marilyn gives us a sexy major league baseball player tagged to tango in a celebrity dance competition. This hero will waltz away with the heroine’s heart and yours! Dancing on the Sand is romantic, sweet, and guaranteed to make you want to kick off your shoes and dance!
Roxanne St. Claire
P.S. If you love this island paradise, be sure to pick up one of the eighteen titles I’ve written set in Barefoot Bay. And there are more than sixty novellas in the Barefoot Bay Kindle World penned by other authors in the same setting. Come for a short visit or lose yourself on the beautiful beach and fall in love over and over again! All the books are listed at www.roxannestclaire.com.
Acknowledgements
First I would like to thank Roxanne St. Claire for the privilege of writing in her Barefoot Bay Kindle World again. My experience as one of the first launch authors was amazing, so playing in Barefoot Bay again was a no-brainer. Roxanne is one of the most generous people I know, and my life, both personal and professional, has been richer for knowing her.
Other people enrich my life as well including the many folks who played a part in this story. In no particular order I’d like to thank the following people.
Nallivy Fernandez, who shared her experience of coming to the United States from Cuba on the Mariel boatlift. She was five years old at the time. Not much about the boatlift and what is involved after arriving on the shores of the United States ended up in this novella, but her story has stayed with me as a reminder of the dangers people go through to reach freedom.
Amy Boyles, a fellow member of Heart of Dixie Romance Writers, for providing the solution for the story’s black moment. Her career as a pharmacist allowed her to offer several solutions, actually, and I ran with the one I thought I could research easily.
Jackie Guidry, another member of Heart of Dixie Romance Writers, for sharing personal details of her life with Type 1 diabetes. It turns out I wasn’t able to research this online easily as every person’s experiences are different. Jackie graciously answered oodles of questions to help make this story as realistic as possible. Any mistakes with regard to diabetes and its treatment are mine alone.
Kristi Gold, award-winning author and good friend, who once again helped me sort out plot points and help make this story as good as possible.
Eileen Butler, a fellow Red Hatter, who drew on her experience as a teacher to provide me with information about how functionally illiterate people cope in the world.
Annie Rivers, BFF and beta reader, who this time helped with the story line. She shared about her SLAP tear so I could make the hero’s struggles realistic.
Kim Killion for another terrific cover.
Jessie Douglas who understood when cataract surgery slowed my work schedule and made me get the manuscript to her late. She’s a whiz at copy editing and makes every manuscript shine.
Maria Connor of My Author Concierge for formatting.
And the other writers who have played in the Barefoot Bay Kindle World for their support and friendship. The group is so much larger since the first launch in 2016, and therefore the amount of information and guidance they can provide has increased as well. Thank you all! And I can’t wait to read this batch of stories set in beautiful Barefoot Bay.
Dedication
The hero in this story can’t read. Or at least he can’t read well enough to function beyond a very basic level, which is the definition of functional illiteracy. For multiple reasons, 32 million adults in the United States are functionally illiterate. That is 14% of the adult population. To say it’s a handicap is an understatement.
I can hardly remember not being able to read. I learned in the first grade, and once I was able to string letters into words and words into sentences, a whole world opened to me. I could travel to the ends of the earth in a book. I could figure out a task, follow a recipe for a new dish, learn new facts, shop online, handle banking and the list goes on. Oh, and don’t forget reading about happily ever after!
Reading IS fundamental, and this book is dedicated to the memory of my first grade teacher, Laura Gillon, and to every other teacher who opens the world to anyone, regardless of age, by way of the written word.
Reading gives us someplace to go when we have to stay where we are.
~ Mason Cooley
Chapter One
If Ryan Kidd had known what his boss was going to ask of him, he’d have laid his Harley Heritage Softail down on the Saturday morning drive to the Bucks’ stadium and broken a leg. Or two.
“Let me get this straight,” he said, still unsure he had heard correctly. It was early, especially for a Saturday, and perhaps he was still half asleep. “You want me to dance. In a contest.”
“That’s right.” Cutter Valentine leaned back in his leather executive chair and examined a thumbnail.
“In public,” Ryan continued, still in disbelief.
The Barefoot Bay Bucks manager nodded. “Yep,” he drawled. “You’ve been drafted, so to speak, to be the team’s representative in the first Dancing on the Sand charity competition at the resort over on Barefoot Bay.”
Casa Blanca Resort & Spa. Ryan had ridden by the entrance a few times and jogged along the beach road until it ended at the Casa Blanca property. It was pretty swanky. The sort of place he might have stayed if—
“The competition is in a month,” Cutter continued, interrupting Ryan’s thoughts. "So we’ll work your schedul
e around that.”
Ryan considered the proposal for a few moments. “Well, okay,” he agreed.
“Okay?” Cutter’s eyes widened. “I honestly expected you to fight me a little more on this, not that you have much choice. Are you getting soft on me, Kidd?”
“I can boogie a little when necessary. And if I can do it at that fancy-schmancy resort down the road, why not?”
Cutter’s laugh cut through the air. “This isn’t boogie-at-a-nightclub dancing. It’s ballroom dancing. You know – tango, foxtrot. Ballroom,” he repeated. “Like that television show.”
Well, hell. Ryan found himself in the middle of a full-blown whiskey tango foxtrot moment, and his stomach crawled halfway up his esophagus. A woman he had dated had roped him into watching the show with her. Ballroom dancing? Him?
“Can’t someone else do it? I mean, I’m not one of the team’s stars. I just coach the pitching staff. No one’s going to want to watch me. Let Anderson do it. Or Flores. People know them.” Lee Anderson was the Bucks’ top batter and Emilio Flores had a fastball that was approaching 95 miles per hour. Ryan expected him to get a call any day to move up a level or two in the Bucks franchise.
Named after his father’s favorite pitcher and nicknamed Whiz because of his high-speed 4-seam fastball, Ryan remembered his own call. The headlines in the local paper of their small town in west Texas proclaimed that Ryan Whiz Kidd had been drafted by the majors and would remain in Texas to play ball. His dad, Vince, still had a framed copy of that newspaper article hanging in his office at Kidd & Sons, the farm equipment dealership, which had been started by Ryan’s grandfather, Earl. A job Ryan would have retired his dad from except for—
“I can’t afford to take anyone out of the lineup,” Cutter countered, interrupting Ryan’s thoughts again. “We have a big away series coming up and we’re short on players since Clark and Bowers got called up to the big show. I have to send a non-player to this shindig. You’re young, and you seem to have a following with the ladies, which should get you and the team some publicity in the contest. You could use that to your advantage in the popular vote portion of the contest.”
And he had two left feet when it came to anything other than the Texas two-step. No native Texan could show his face in public without being able to do the two-step. His mother had taught him, pushing the living room furniture aside and coaching him every night after her job at the Clip & Curl Salon until he was proficient enough to feel comfortable asking his girlfriend to the junior prom.
“Popular vote?”
“You get your friends and family and their friends and family to vote for you.”
That sucked. It sounded more like a pyramid scheme than anything else. Ryan had a small family and an even smaller circle of friends. Oh, he’d had lots of friends during the heyday of his career, but once that was over, those friends disappeared, and he hadn’t even tried to replace them. Why do it if the least little thing made them go AWOL?
Maybe Ryan could convince another staff member to take this gig. Maybe someone from the business office. Surely they’d jump at the chance to go to Casa Blanca Resort & Spa. Hell, he’d pay someone if he had to.
“What if I can get—”
“You’re it, Kidd,” Cutter said, fixing him with a stare. “It’s a done deal. I’ve already turned in your name to the contest coordinators. I don’t suppose it would help if I told you there was prize money. Ten thousand to split between the winning pair. And an extra seventy-five hundred to the celebrity contestant’s charity of choice if you win the popular vote. Does that sweeten the deal?”
A broad grin split his face. Hell yes it sweetened the deal. Five thousand dollars was chump change compared to a Major League Baseball contract, but since he didn’t have one of those anymore, that prize money would be a welcome addition to his bank account. Assuming he won. And he’d find a charity to donate the other money to. If he won.
“Just how does this voting stuff work anyway?”
“If I understand the memo they sent, there will be dance judges who pick the overall winner for the ten grand prize. That’s based on how well you dance. The other part will be done on Twitter, and the celebrity who gets the most votes from the general public wins the extra money. I’m sure the contest folks can explain it to you better. You do have a Twitter account, don’t you?”
Ryan figured he was a long-shot for the based-on-your-dancing prize, but if he corralled the Bucks fans behind him he might be able to win that bonus. He’d have to dig up the password for his Twitter account and remember to tweet.
“I’ll talk to the PR guys about tweeting for me.”
Cutter shook his head. “You have to do that part yourself. To keep things on an even playing field, there’s no corporate help allowed.”
Damn.
Cutter dropped his gaze to the papers on his desk and picked up a pen, his signal that the conversation was over.
Ryan stood in the silence, mulling his fate, then took a step backward toward the office door.
“Oh, and you’re supposed to meet your dance partner this morning at eleven o’clock at a place called Allegro,” Cutter said, without looking up. “It’s in town over the flower shop. They said to tell you to plan on being there for a couple hours. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be a whiz at this too. You’ll make us all proud.”
Whiz Kidd.
The mention of his old nickname stung. The handle was a reminder of an existence that seemed a lifetime ago instead of just six short years.
Ryan forced a fake smile. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled as he left Cutter’s office, pulling out his cellphone to text Yolanda Akers and let her know he’d have to break their date for lunch.
Yeah, he should have laid his bike down and broken both legs because this was going to be a disaster of monumental proportion. Just like—
No, that was then and was best left on the front page of a long ago newspaper sports section. His father hadn’t framed that article; he had folded it and put it away in a box instead. All of that belonged in the past. Ryan just hoped his dancing debut wasn’t as disastrous as his baseball swan song.
Chapter Two
When Amara Perez entered Allegro, she saw her boss, Jasper Vonderleith, dancing around the room to an oldie by the Pointer Sisters. He sang along in a piercing falsetto and was nearly floating on air. When Jasper noticed her, he hurried to her side and clasped her hands in his. He very nearly vibrated with excitement.
“I’m so excited,” he said. His pitch soared on the last word. “Can you believe what’s happened? Amara, darling, it will be such amazing publicity for this studio.”
Jasper owned Allegro, the dance studio located over Bud’s Buds, the island’s original flower shop. Jasper was…unique, and even that was an understatement. Amara took in his black work-out pants paired with a bright lime green tank top and matching leg warmers. The tips of his golden blond mohawk had been dyed hot pink, giving him the appearance of a neon preppie.
Before she could ask what had happened, Jasper squeezed her hands tightly and launched into the answer.
“Remember that charity ballroom contest I told you about last month? The one at the resort and spa on the north end of the island?”
Amara nodded, recalling Jasper’s elation over Allegro’s inclusion. Since Jasper owned the studio, he would be the dancer who represented it, and Amara hadn’t even tried to think up an argument for why she might be the better representative for the studio.
“I just can’t believe it. I mean, it’s amazing. I couldn’t have imagined this in my wildest dreams. Nothing like this has ever—”
“What, Jasper? Nothing like what has ever happened?” Amara interrupted, exasperation filling her tone.
He sobered slightly. “Oh, yes. We’ve been given three spots in the ballroom contest. Three. So you, Glynnis and I will all be dancing on the sand next month at Casa Blanca Resort & Spa.” His voice rose in pitch with each word so that by the end of his sentence he was in a range tha
t would shatter crystal or attract dogs. Or both.
Of course, she understood his enthusiasm, but held back the urge to twirl around the studio herself. She had begun dancing when she was six years old and had discovered ballroom at age ten. Ballroom competitions were a regular weekend event for her until she began attending college at the University of Florida. She had tried to combine competition and college but there weren’t enough hours in the day and college won. Her current position on the English faculty at Mimosa High School didn’t pay an enormous salary, but the percentage of ballroom dancers who made the big time – and the big salaries – was low. She had never regretted giving up the chase to be a full-time professional dancer.
After answering an ad for dance instructors in the local paper, she had begun working at Allegro a year ago to pay off the last of her student loans. She graded essays on Chaucer and Shakespeare by day, and several nights a week plus Saturdays she taught budding ballroom stars how to shine on the dance floor.
She frowned. “How will I fit the rehearsals into my schedule? I mean, I can’t give up paying clients for—”
“Don’t worry, sweets,” Jasper interrupted. “I’ve already spoken to your students and for the next month, I’ll cover your salary for the classes you have to cancel. The publicity will more than make up for it. I just want you focused on the contest.”
She gave Jasper’s hand a little squeeze.
“I already know what I’ll do with the prize money when I win,” he began.
“When you win? What about me? Or Glynnis?” Glynnis Chappell Wells was Allegro’s newest instructor. Somewhere in her sixties, she had been a competition ballroom dancer with her late husband. After his death earlier in the year, she had approached Jasper about teaching in order to fill some of the empty hours in her life.