Love Waltzes In (Dancing Under The Stars) (6 page)

He looked away from Selena. “I almost got married, but she cheated on me while I was deployed.”

“It’s her loss, Bret.” She didn’t know what else to say. After all these years, Selena had hoped Bret had found the family life he had always wanted, that she couldn’t give him. At least that’s what she told herself. To hear that Bret was still alone and had given up hope made her sad.

“It’s fine. I don’t want to get married. Not until I get out of the Corps. I’ve seen so many divorces and many of my buddies’ wives cheat on them while they were deployed. Broken families. Kids never see their dads. Plus even if I found a great woman, what if I died over there like Pierce did? I’d leave a young widow and my kids without a father.”  

“You can’t live your life like that. What happened to your friend was awful and I feel so sorry for his family. But that doesn’t mean the same fate would await you.”

The truck accelerated, nothing drastic but enough for Selena’s water to spill. Banjo jostled in the back.

After a few songs in silence, Bret relaxed into his seat. “So where do you live? Some gated Beverly Hills mansion? Are there going to be paparazzi waiting for us?”

“Why? Hoping for the cover of
People
?”

“No. I just don’t want the Marine Corps to charge me with adultery, with your deep commitment to
Dima and all.”

“I told you we aren’t together, Bret.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Sharing a room, kiss on the floor, huge diamond ring.”

The red brake lights blinded her and she was too tired to focus on anything. “It’s not like that and you know it. You know how ballroom partnerships are. A kiss on the floor means nothing, it’s just acting. We book a room together because it’s easier to keep all our costumes together. Most times, he ends up crashing at another one of the dancer’s rooms anyway. And I already explained to you about the ring.”

“Well don’t you have an excuse for everything.”

Her jaw shook. She hated being on the Los Angeles freeways.
Especially at night.

“Anyway, soldier boy, no, there won’t be any paparazzi. It’s not like we go around ringing them up and saying, hey, come over, I’ll give you a good shot. Jesus, Bret, not everyone on the show is some shallow fame whore. Some of us actually do it because we want to dance.”

“First off—Marines aren’t soldiers. Marines are Marines or warriors. Army has soldiers.”

Selena laughed. Bret was so uptight. “Sorry, Marine.”

She gave him the address and Bret plugged it into his navigation system. Selena’s gaze zeroed-in on his large hands, bulging veins, and confident hold on the steering wheel. A fleeting thought entered her sleepy mind, blowing past her consciousness and leaving a trail of even more questions. Like what it might be like to feel those hands touching her bare skin. Warmth climbed up her neck, and she shook the thought away, scolding herself. As much as she was attracted to his amazing body, masculine scent, and deep voice, she had to remind herself that Bret’s reappearance into her life would only be brief. Besides, all he did was give her a hard time about her life. He infuriated her. Drove her completely crazy.

And if she allowed herself to get used to him being around, then she’d have to learn to live without him.

Again.

The jazzy beat made her body tingle. He reached for her hand. They glided across the floor, weaving between the other dancers. The music began to crescendo. Their bodies rose and fell together, in synch with the music. The intensity between them built. She shimmied her shoulders toward him. He embraced her from behind. She escaped from his arms on the spot, and then staggered away. The chase was on.

Bret maneuvered his brand new truck up the winding Hollywood Hills.  Towering trees framed the street and it was difficult to focus on the road. Being this close to Selena unnerved him. Despite the fact that she drove him absolutely crazy with her spoiled and selfish outlook on the world, she looked and smelled incredible. He tried to keep his mind on the road and not think about kissing her neck, tasting her lips, and caressing her body.

“It’s the next driveway. Just enter Code 0114 in the keypad.”

Bret eyed Selena. January fourteenth was the anniversary of the day he and Selena won Nationals. Did Dima know the significance of Selena’s password?

Selena seemed to understand his questioning look. “Don’t get all weird on me. It was just the first major competition I, I mean we, ever won. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Whatever, Sel.”

Bret turned into the driveway and pressed the numbers into the black alarm pad. A huge gate opened and Bret drove to the front of Selena’s house. It was less extravagant than Bret had expected; just an old Spanish-style bungalow with
talavera tiles framing the entrance, not some sprawling Hollywood mansion.

Selena took the keys out of her purse and opened the door. “It’s super late and I’m beat. Are you sure you don’t want to crash here tonight? We can leave as early as you want tomorrow morning.”

Bret hoisted Banjo out of the backseat of the truck, attached his leash, and led him to a bush to pee. It was dark so Bret couldn’t read Selena’s face. She had just invited him to spend the night. He wasn’t sure he could sleep in the same house as her. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

Selena just laughed and turned on the lights. “Relax, Bret. It’s really not a big deal. You can use the guest house out back.”

Guest house? Bret should’ve known that there was more to her house. It sure made his tiny place off base look like a slum. She’d probably laugh if she saw his small apartment, which was about the size of her living room.

In the main house, there were red tiles on the floor and dark wooden beams on the ceiling. Her yellow painted walls had pi
ctures of Dima and Selena everywhere: winning competitions, on the television show, on the red carpet. But Bret was taken aback when he noticed a framed picture of him and Selena winning Nationals. The same picture that was in that magazine cut-out that Benny sent him.

“Why do you still have this picture up?”

Selena smiled. “It was my first national win.”

Bret remembered that night well. After they celebrated with
Dima, who had coached them, Bret proposed to Selena.

Banjo jumped up on Selena’s brown leather sofa and curled i
nto a ball.

“Well, I’m tired too. So just show me the guesthouse and I’ll get out of your hair. We have to leave at zero six hundred tomo
rrow morning.”

Selena laughed. “I’ll assume you mean six a.m. But it’s okay, Bret. You can relax—we don’t have to be there until five in the evening.”

“Well I don’t like to be late. Punctuality was never your strong suit, if I remember correctly.”

Selena walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. “Do you want a beer?
Dima mostly stocks Vodka but he does have some Russian beer.”

“So
Dima fills your fridge too? What else do you do together? File taxes? You sound married.”

“Stop Bret. I have a place here and he has one closer to the st
udio in Glendale. Sometimes he crashes here—in the guest house. How about that beer?”

Bret would’ve loved a beer to relax and take the edge off the tension in the room. But he didn’t trust himself alone with Selena. Before he could decline, Selena popped off the cap of a bottle and handed it to him.

Why was she being so nice to him? If it were any other woman, he would be certain she was flirting with him. He studied the label, written in Russian letters. “
Peba
? What’s this crap?” Bret took a swig. It tasted like vinegar. “You don’t have a Corona? I guess Dima’s taste hasn’t changed. I’m good, thanks.” Bret poured the bottle out in the kitchen sink, then sat on the sofa and pet Banjo.

“
Peva
. Yeah. It’s not the best, but Dimka loves it.”

Dimka
? Hearing his old coach referred to like that was . . . . well, creepy. Dima had been a twenty-year-old man when he started teaching them as kids. A twelve year age difference wasn’t a big deal now that Selena was a woman in her late twenties, but Bret couldn’t help be disturbed by the way Dima had groomed her to be his.

Selena took her own bottle and settled in next to Bret, who inched his way over to the other end of the sofa.

He looked around the room. He had been wrong; this place was sick—must be worth at least a million dollars, hidden up in the hills. This could’ve been his home, his life, his sofa, his woman, but the fridge would be stocked with craft beers. At the time Bret gave up his dancing, there was little hope for a career besides running a studio and spending all the revenue on competing. Now Selena and Dima were millionaires. He wasn’t jealous; he hated competing and truly loved being a Marine. But he never thought for a second that he would be struggling to make ends meet, with little hope of ever buying a house in San Diego or Marin, while Selena and Dima wasted their money on needless luxury items.

She took a long sip and then sighed. “So, I know it was ten years ago but I just really want to say how sorry I am about what went down. It was the hardest decision . . .”

“Selena, don’t. It’s fine. It was forever ago. I don’t want to talk about it.”

She pursed her lips. “But I just really want to say how sorry I am. There was so much going on and . . .” her eyes looked up at him.

Bret didn’t want to hear her excuses for walking out on him. Plus for all he knew, she was miked and this pathetic apology would play out on television. “I said it’s cool. Just forget it.”

She put her hand casually on Bret’s leg. 

He imagined her hand sliding up his thigh. He moved her hand off him, and stood up.

“Thanks for the beer, Sel. I really need to get some sleep.” He motioned to Banjo, and the dog jumped down.

“Oh, sure. I’ll show you the casita.”

“I’m just
gonna grab my bag.” Bret opened the front door and went to his truck. He looked up to the dark blue, starry sky. He hadn’t signed up for this emotional drama. Those producers were trying to make a punch line out of Bret, and he wouldn’t allow it. There was no way he was going to play into this twisted love triangle. He didn’t believe for a second that Selena and Dima weren’t still hooking up. Bret wanted to jump into that truck and head back down to his place, and rip up the dance contract. But Bret was a man of his word, and wouldn’t go back on his promise to Pierce. Bret was now sure of one thing—being this close to Selena for the next fifteen weeks would require some serious self-control.

A loud rap at her bedroom door roused Selena from her dreams.

“
Sel, we need to get a move on. Are you awake?”

Hearing Bret’s voice first thing in the morning was a welcome surprise. “Yeah, sorry, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

She rolled onto her back, and closed her eyes. Last night, she’d dreamt about Bret. Over the years, he’d been the star of many of her dreams. But this dream was different. They were dancing, together, after all these years. He lacked Dima’s speed and technical skill, but Bret’s dancing had something that Dima’s didn’t—emotion. Real emotion, not the fake, flashy, showy moves Dima and Selena were known for. Bret had always danced from his heart.

She crawled out of bed, and stepped onto the ice-cold marble tile. A quick shower, and they’d embark on the rest of today’s journey.

………..

Selena emerged from her bedroom and poured herself a cup of coffee. Her nostrils tingled, and when she took a sip, the warm liquid soothed her throat.

Once she could focus, her eyes fell on Bret, who sat at her coffee table reading a book. Banjo lay by his feet. The sight of him, relaxed and comfortable in her house, threw her. Had she made a different choice, this could be the setting of her daily life. Bret making her coffee, reading before he headed to work. Maybe getting the kids ready for school. Her gut clenched.

“What are you reading?”

Bret glanced up at her. “Oh, just some war book.” He closed the cover. “You ready? We really need to get going.”

“Yeah. Let me finish my coffee and we can bounce. Where are you staying up there?”

“My dad bought a houseboat in Sausalito. He lives with his new wife up in Washington, so he said I can stay there while I train.”

“How cool! I’ve always wanted to live on a houseboat.
To have the ocean rock me to sleep. I used to babysit a family who lived on one.”

Bret stood up and took the keys out of his pocket. “It beats staying in a hotel. Hotels remind me of the barracks. Let’s get a move on.”

Selena made her way to the sink to rinse her coffee cup out. An engine hummed outside the window. That’s weird—the gardeners weren’t supposed to come until Tuesday. She peeked out the kitchen window. A bright yellow taxi stood out front.

The front door opened. “
Selenichka!” Banjo barked and scampered out of the kitchen.

Selena dropped her coffee mug. The ceramic shattered on the floor, and Bret and Selena stared at the little shards, stunned.

Dima walked into the kitchen. His mouth opened when he saw Bret crouched on the floor with Selena, gathering the pieces of the mug.

“What’s going on here?
I call and text to you all the night. Benny gave me name of hotel and they said that you did not go to there.”

Uh oh. Selena had seen the texts, and she’d intended to text him back, but she just had been so exhausted. Selena could see Bret staring at the house key in
Dima was holding. Another item that made it look like she was still together with Dima. Who could blame Bret for thinking that they were still together? She grabbed the dustpan under the sink. “Dimka, I’m sorry. It was just so late . . .”

Bret reached out his hand to
Dima. “Hey, Dima. Sorry about that, it’s my fault. We were supposed to drive all night but I was tired so Selena said I could stay in the guesthouse. You guys danced great last night.”

Selena knew that
Dima would never settle for a handshake. Dima probably still saw Bret as his little disciple. He embraced his old student. “Bret, great to see you, my friend! I thought you go to the war?”

Selena breathed a sigh of relief as she swept up the glass shards.
Dima stood with his shoulders relaxed and his feet wide apart. She wondered if Dima even felt a pang of jealousy know that Bret spent the night in her house. Even though they weren’t together, deep down Selena always thought that Dima figured she would take him back at anytime. And maybe that had been true—before Bret showed up and made Selena reminisce her first love.

Bret pulled back from the hug. “I did go to war. But I’m back now. Just doing a season to raise money for my friend’s family. He was killed in Iraq.”

Dima seemed impressed by Bret’s selflessness. He sat at the table and poured himself a cup of coffee. “This friend of yours. How much money does his family need? I could give to you now. Selena and me, we would love to help.”

There
Dima went again—flaunting his money around. Maybe he thought he could buy Bret off, so he wouldn’t have to worry about Selena getting close to Bret.

Bret shook his head. “Thanks
Dima, I really appreciate your offer but I need to do this on my own. I’d love to stay but we really need to get on the road.”

“Sure, it is no problem.”
Dima eyed Selena. She sat back at the table next to Dima, who took her hand.

“
Sel, I’m gonna take Banjo outside. We have to leave in five minutes. Dima, it was great seeing you again.” Bret headed toward the front door and Selena heard the door shut.

“Sorry,
Dima. Bret won this truck and Benny said . . .”

Dima
cut her off. “I know. Benny told to me everything. I don’t have to start with my partner until two more weeks. I come with you before I go.”

Why did he want to join her in San Francisco? They never vi
sited each other when they were training their celebrities. “You don’t have to.”

“Of course, I go to there. We need to train for
Blackpool. It is in four months. And San Francisco is our home. Where we met, where we fell in love. We were supposed to get married there.”

Dima
never brought up their broken engagement. What was he up to?

“Whatever
Dimka. You called off the engagement. Anyway, I’d love to have you come with us but Bret’s nervous enough. Having you around might hurt his chances on the show. We owe him that, don’t you think?”

Dima
stayed silent. They had an unspoken promise never to talk about what had led Selena to finally make the decision to leave Bret.

“But tell you what, maybe you could come down before you meet your celebrity and we can train the whole weekend together.” Selena touched his face. “I really have to go. I’ll call you when I get there.” She leaned and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“
Ya tebya loobloo
.”

Selena paused. “I love you, too.” They always said those words to each other. And she did love
Dima. But she’d long given up any hope that they could have a normal relationship. Watching him over the years dating the starlets on the show had forced her to push her feelings aside. She left the table, went to her bedroom, and grabbed her rolling suitcase. Dima acted strangely, like he could read her mind. Maybe they could work it out—she could find the happiness with Dima that she had craved for all these years. Being near Bret the past few days made Selena yearn to have the pure love again that she’d once shared with him. Over the years, she had convinced herself that what she and Bret had shared was only possible for a young, first time love. Selena hoped she was wrong and that Dima finally wanted to settle down and start a family with her.

She walked out the front door. Bret hopped out of his truck and took her bags. “Everything alright?”

“Yes. I’m great. Let’s go.”

Bret helped Selena into the truck. She settled into the crackly leather of the front seat, looking forward to their journey ahead.