Thanks for voting, guys. Don’t know who I owe but pretty sure it’s your votes that kept my dancing dreams alive.
He smirked, just knowing the other guys would be laughing their socks off at that comment.
Sure enough, Ryan answered not ten seconds later. I have never seen anything more beautiful than that performance in my life.
We won’t tell Sylvie you said that, he replied.
That scored a laughing-face emoji from Chris and Jai, both of whom were on the west coast and had probably watched the episode with their wives.
Chris started typing. Had Zac Parotti here for dinner and a show tonight. Your show, ha ha. I think he’s personally funding half of BC’s votes to see you make it to the final.
Awesome. Luc tapped back: I didn’t think dance was his thing but okay.
The man’s been asking some interesting questions, so you could pray he sees the light.
Whoa. Seriously? Zac Parotti was like the west coast’s version of Brent Karlsson, an All-Star player with a similar high-end range of skills. Zac was pretty much responsible for Vancouver winning their most recent Stanley Cup, earning the Stanley Cup MVP award in the process, and even prior to that, had endorsements and a profile that was movie star-worthy. If the man was actually seeking God…
Are you for real? Mike asked.
One hundred percent, Chris replied.
Wow. Ryan.
Awesome! Jai.
Amazing. Mike.
Don’t you guys believe that God really does work in the hearts ofall men to draw people to themselves? Chris asked.
Hmm. When put like that, maybe it was easier to believe that God would be sought by the poor rather than those who didn’t obviously need Him, like those with looks, charm, and cash.
Praying for you, dude, Luc typed.
And for you, Chris instantly replied. You better watch yourself, else you’ll be the next of us to settle down.
Whoa. He did not say that. He glanced at where Bailey slept, her long hair splayed across his arm. He picked up a soft strand, rubbing it between his fingers. Could she feel that? Should he stop? What would she say if she knew what these guys were saying about them?
She’s a professional, he reminded them.
That didn’t stop you looking at her like she was deep dish pizza. Jai.
He winced. Deep dish might be his favorite thing whenever he visited Chicago, where Jai hailed from. Exactly how had he looked at Bailey? He probably should sit with her and watch the tape of tonight’s performance, just like he did in hockey, learning where he could improve, what he shouldn’t have done, or what he shouldn’t have said.
A still from tonight appeared in the chat, courtesy of Ryan. It showed Luc looking down at Bailey with a small smile on his face as she looked up at him with her usual sparkly smile. Beneath the pic, Ryan had written “I’m really blessed to have her in my life.”
Wait—had Luc actually said that?
She’s everything you could ever want, Chris added.
Oh. Man. Now he remembered. That had been when Bailey had looked up at him, and he’d wondered if she was annoyed, and he’d tried to make amends by saying just how special and wonderful she was.
But Bailey was really special. Beautiful, positive, and kind. And somehow, he didn’t mind his friends’ teasing, as it was just another case of him teetering from that place that he’d thought he’d always known.
The non-dancer, who now liked dancing. A little bit, at least.
The happy-being-single dude, who now wanted more. A lot more.
He peeked back at Bailey, tempted, so tempted, to touch her cheek, to know the softness of her skin.
His heart expanded, then contracted.
But what if what he said was true, and she was such a professional that she never wanted to know him? What if he was simply a job to her, and once this was done, they’d never see each other again?
The plane hit a patch of turbulence, which bounced her against his shoulder, jerking her awake. She blinked up at him, her dark lashes less long than those crazy Bambi ones she’d been wearing during tonight’s show. He liked this version of her more, and he bet part of the reason she’d gone unrecognized was because she’d washed off most of the heavy TV makeup. Even normal Bailey was usually made up beautifully, and he’d rarely got the chance to see her without a mask. This version of Bailey was softer, more real, more unguarded and natural.
“Hey.”
“Did I fall asleep?”
He nodded.
“On you? I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Is this your jacket?” She moved to tug it off, give it back.
He pressed a hand on hers, stilling her movement. “Keep it. I don’t want you to get cold.”
