Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
H e didn’t want a relationship with her.
Well, that was great. That was wonderful. That was fantastic, because she felt exactly the same. Exactly the same.
She closed her eyes, the memories of yesterday’s airport lounge encounter floating through her brain as she ignored the camera crew setting up in the corner of the studio. They’d arrived not five minutes after she’d opened the studio today. She’d missed the chance to do her personal unwind after returning home yesterday, then staying up far too late with Poppy and filling her in on all the goss, and trying to get her head around all that was involved.
She had to choreograph the routine they would be dancing live next Sunday. Next Sunday . She had a week—no, not even that, only five days or so—before they had to fly back to Toronto, and prepare for everything from costume fittings to rehearsing the pro dancers’ group routine. Then it was camera blocking—in front of the producers, which meant Luc needed to know the routine by then—and the dress rehearsal, before a full day Sunday doing hair, makeup, and costumes, then filming in front of the live audience that evening. Then they’d jump back on a plane, and start rehearsing the next dance, before returning on Thursday to do it all again.
Maybe they were crazy with all this travel by returning to Winnipeg instead of staying in Toronto like most of the other couples. Staying in TO would allow them more rehearsal time. She might have to suggest that to Luc. Except he had hockey commitments here, which meant he’d scheduled four hours a day for dance rehearsal, giving him more time for hockey, although she was willing to bet he’d need more than four hours.
Lord, help me! And him! Her body wanted to shake with the intensity of it all. She’d give anything to release the crazy nerves in a dance-off of her own.
She peeked across at where Ella, the producer, and Ben and Tony, the camera guys, were setting up. Maybe she still had a few minutes to get her nerves under control.
She moved closer, smiled. “Hi there.”
“Hey Bailey. You all good?” Ella asked.
She nodded. She had to play nice seeing they would be her and Luc’s own little production crew for the duration of the series. And while they might be here filming for four hours to find sixty seconds of footage, she wanted that footage to be of the more positive variety, rather than focus on the stuff people didn’t need to see. Like picking a dance thong from her butt. “I just wanted to take a moment to dance if that’s okay.”
“Honey, that’s why we’re here. You do you, and forget we’re here.” Ella smiled. “Most of them do.”
Another nod.
“Just don’t go forgetting too much, if you know what I mean.” Ella winked, then tapped her ring finger.
Bailey winced. Like the pro and contestant she and Luc were replacing. “Understood.”
She turned her back on them, and retrieved her phone, and found the music she’d been given this week. Harry Connick Junior’s song, “It Had to be You” was a standard for the foxtrot, the dance they’d been given. She was grateful for the slower pace, even if the foxtrot was a complex dance, but she wanted to remember how this went and move through it as she’d imagined last night. To have one more chance to do so before Luc got here, before his physical bigness and breadth of personality stole her concentration, was necessary.
The elegant swing of the orchestra blared from her phone, and she swayed to the music, imagining the opening scene according to the style and props that had been given her. She had stairs to walk down in her heels, then she’d tap him on the shoulder, he’d take her hand, she’d spin, her long feathery dress swirling out, as per the costume suggested to her, then they’d begin the actual foxtrot. John, the stickler for technical dancing, would be expecting to see the slow, slow, quick, quick steps of the foxtrot, so she needed to make sure Luc could do the basic movements and set pieces, as well as adding in the drama and elegance that Cynthia and Marco always liked to see.
She positioned her arms, holding the phone in front of her as she imagined dancing with him. One line down to the corner of the room, then a pause, before a spin in the middle, then a moment to arch away, then come back together. Foxtrot meant they were holding each other for most of the time, which she knew could get a little dull for the audience, so she would have to include some dips and add a split-over lift, if Luc was ready for that. He should be. His muscles and frame would be perfect for all kinds of lifts sure to please crowds and get votes, if he was prepared to trust her.
His words from their initial plane trip crossed her mind again. His doubts, his concerns about her size compared to his. Well, she was going to have to use that to her advantage, even if that meant resorting to, to borrow the words from her ultimate favorite movie of all time, “flashy, crowd-pleasing steps”. She was glad the producers had made it clear that, unlike on the US show, lifts on Dance Off were perfectly okay.
She finished, arching backwards, arm outstretched, as she envisaged their routine would end, only to hear a slow clap come from the door. She glanced across, straightening as Luc entered.
“Wow.”
She swallowed, thinking the same. He’d dressed as she requested, comfortably in shorts and a tee, a far cry from the tux he’d wear on Sunday, but she wanted him to relax into things today. Even if she bet he’d kick up a fuss at the shoes he’d be expected to wear. His shorts showed his muscular legs, where even his calves seemed twice the size of her thighs, and his shirt was doing his chest and arms plenty of favors. She blinked, snapping into professional mode, as she gestured to the film crew who were already filming.
Whoa. She hadn’t been expecting that. She hoped they hadn’t caught any expression from her that looked like ogling. She winced, wiping her hands down the sheer flowy dance skirt over tights she’d worn with her basic leotard.
“Hey, Luc.” Ella moved closer. “We met briefly at the meet and greet, but I’m Ella, and this is Ben and Tony. We’re going to be here for the next few hours.”
“Few hours?”
“Yeah. Your contract was four hours rehearsal minimum per day, remember?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think we’d be filmed for all that. I thought you’d be here to film the fake introduction, then a few clips of Bailey trying to teach me to dance.”
“Those clips only come about from us getting the right amount of footage,” Ella explained. “So, we’re going to stay here the whole time, do a few little interviews for the package as well. Don’t worry, as I explained to Bailey, you won’t even notice we’re here after a little while.”
“We need to microphone you both now,” Ben said, handing them both battery packs.
Bailey attached it onto her dance skirt while Ella adjusted the tiny microphone. She smiled at Luc. “You’ll need to be careful what you say now.”
He shrugged. “I keep my mouth clean.”
“Well, speaking of mouths, look, we have snacks.” Bailey pointed to the table where Dance Off had provided a variety of granola bars, fruit, and some less healthy options positioned next to a tray of bottled waters.
Luc cut her a look. “I have a feeling I’ll need DoorDash. Like, I’m always hungry and eat five meals a day.”
Good to know. Bailey turned to Ella. “Okay, so you were saying you wanted us to do the fake ‘oh, it’s you’ scene?”
Ella nodded. “Normally it isn’t faked, as the dance pros don’t know who they’re matched up with until that moment. Obviously, especially given the circumstances we didn’t have time for that with you two, but the viewing audience doesn’t need to know that. So we’re going to film a sequence with Luc outside, all excited or nervous, and then have him coming inside and ‘meeting’ you. Okay?”
“And um, how do you want us to ‘meet’?” Bailey asked, rabbit-earing those last words like Ella seemed fond of doing.
“A hug, a squeal, a handshake, whatever feels natural.”
Hmm. Nothing felt natural as far as this man was concerned.
“Ready?”
“Sure.”
Ben followed Ella and Luc back outside, leaving Tony with Bailey, and she did her best to relax, to pray, to calm down. She returned to her music, listening as she envisaged the steps once again, and swayed and stretched. Lord, have Your way. I don’t know what Your purpose is in all this, but I’m trusting that it’s for my good.
The door opened. She glanced up. And beamed. Totally naturally. “It’s you!”
“Hey, I’m Luc,” Luc said.
The fact he was introducing himself drew her laugh, and she dashed across the dance floor and hugged him, like he was her friend. Then paused, as his arms automatically went around her. Oh. This felt a little close. Which was dumb. He’d have to hold her, and her him. Maybe he was just treating her as a friend too. Regardless, this hug was going on too long, and she needed to pull away. Now. So she did.
“And cut. Hey, that was great,” Ella said. “You get that down okay, guys?”
Ben was squinting at his camera’s playback, nodding. “Yep, looks good.” Tony said the same.
Bailey pushed a smile back on her dial, looking at Ella for instruction.
“Okay, just act natural.”
“Sorry, this is all so new to me.”
“I know. And it will get easier. The first day is always the hardest. Now, you might want to ask how he’s feeling, tell him what the dance is.”
She nodded. Turned back to Luc, then glanced back at the camera guys. “Do I need to wait for a count in?”
“For this part, yes. For the rest, just do what you need to do. The guys have done this long enough they’ll know when to tell you to pause, but they won’t interrupt you very often.”
Bailey fanned her face. “I don’t know why I feel so nervous.”
“You’ll be great,” Luc said. “I, on the other hand…” He made a face.
She laughed, and saw how his expression instantly eased. “Hey, it’s okay. You’ll be fine.”
“Because you’re an excellent teacher, or so someone told me.”
He remembered that? Huh. “Well, it is true.”
“Guys, we haven’t started yet,” Ella complained, with an upheld hand. “Now, let’s run that again, then keep going. Ask Luc how’s he’s feeling, then tell him what you’re dancing this week, then get into it. Okay?”
Bailey nodded, Luc muttered a “yeah”.
Ben counted them in. “Three, two, one…”
Bailey clapped her hands together. “So, Luc, tell me how you’re feeling about dancing.” She did a little wiggle, which seemed to draw his reluctant smile.
Luc shoved a hand through his hair, and grinned awkwardly. “I gotta admit, this is something I never thought I’d do, and I’m trying not to freak out about it.”
She nodded, her heart filling with empathy. She could appreciate a man admitting to feeling vulnerable. “I think stepping out of your comfort zone for the sake of a good cause is a wonderful thing to do.”
His shoulders dropped a little. “My charity supports those fighting cancer, which is what my mom faced several years ago, so I’m prepared to look like a fool if it means we raise money for a good cause.”
She grasped his arm. “I’m sure your mom is very proud of you. And I promise that you won’t look like a fool. I think anyone should be impressed by the courage it takes to try something so different, so let’s go with that.”
He nodded, and she released her hand.
“As for looking like a fool, well, if you don’t want to look like a laughingstock, you’re going to have to prove everyone wrong and you’ll do that by following my instructions. To the letter . Got it?”
His face screwed up, as if in pain, then he nodded. “Deal.” He held out his hand.
She grasped it. Large, calloused, slightly sweaty. He was nervous. Her heart softened. For all his bluster and hugeness, the poor man really was anxious. What could she say to ease his nerves?
She squeezed his hand then let go. “Are you competitive?”
“I play pro hockey, so yeah.”
Her nose wrinkled. “I have to admit, I’m not familiar with hockey, and I don’t really know much about what you do. Actually, I don’t know anything about what you do at all.”
He slapped a hand on his big chest. “That cuts deep.”
She laughed. “But I guess if you’re a pro, you’ve had to fight your way to the top, right?”
“Absolutely. Peewee, Juniors, minor league, even training camp, it’s all about wanting to be the best.”
“Then I want you to think of this like training camp for dance. And we’re going to train you so you can smoke the opposition.”
He chuckled. “Did you say smoke?”
“Yes. Is that not the right word?”
“It’s totally the right word.”
She smiled at him, and he smiled back, then a cleared throat reminded her they weren’t alone.
Ella did a “cut” gesture, then turned to them. “Okay, the chemistry here is undeniable, so that’s going to shoot really well.”
“The what?” Luc asked.
“You two. You seem to have a thing, but don’t go having a ‘thing’, if you know what I mean.”
Oh my gosh. “You don’t need to worry about that,” Bailey rushed to assure. “We’re just friends. Not even that really. More like recent acquaintances.”
“Sure you are.” Ella did a “get on with it” gesture. “Now, back to the dancing. What is it you’re teaching him this week?”
Bailey placed cool hands on her hot cheeks, willing them to calm. “Um, okay.” She glanced at the cameras. They were still recording. Oh goodness. How flustered did she appear? “Um, right.”
“The dance,” Luc said, his deep voice focusing her.
She nodded, taking in a deep breath. Then straightened her shoulders and looked at him again. Luc now wore a small smile tucked up in the corner of his mouth. Cute. She blinked, refocused. “Okay.” She clapped her hands, just like she did for her tiny tots. Refocus time. “So, this week, we’re very lucky to be doing the foxtrot, which is one of ballroom’s most beautiful dances, and you’ll be pleased to know it’s not too hard.” A bit of a fib, but there was no need to further scare the man.
“Phew.” He wiped his brow in an exaggerated movement, no doubt for the sake of the cameras. “This is all hard enough as it is.”
She laughed.
“What?”
She pointed to a box sitting in the corner. “You say that now, but just wait until you get to wear your shoes.”
“My shoes?”
She nodded. “Dance shoes. You have to wear a heel.”
“My shoes have heels,” he protested.
“Yeah, that’s not what you’re going to be wearing on Sunday.”
“Are you kidding?” That panicked look was back in his eyes.
“Lucky Luc gets to wear a tux and special dance shoes with a heel.”
“But I don’t want to be any taller than you than I already am.”
“Too bad.”
“Oh my…” His last word was muffled as he hid his face behind his hands. “Remind me why I’m doing this again?”
“Your mom. Cancer patients.” She patted his arm. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, we can start today with the basic movements and do those with bare feet.”
“You do not want to see my feet.”
She crossed her arms. “It’s bare feet or dance shoes.”
He groaned, then toed off his sneakers, then tugged off his socks. She frowned, looking at his feet. They were huge, and a little hairy, which wouldn’t film well. She glanced at Ella, but she just made a “keep going” gesture, so she did.
“Alright then.”
“What about you? Are you going barefoot too?” he asked, pointing to her dance shoes.
“Are you worried I’m going to stab you with my heels?”
“Super worried,” he drawled.
She laughed. “Come on.” She grabbed his hands and drew him closer. “Now, this Sunday we’re doing the foxtrot, and like I said, it’s fairly easy. It’s all about the hold, the slow and quick steps, and the rise and fall. Have you waltzed?”
He shook his head. “I’ve never really danced before,” he mumbled.
“Could you repeat that?” Ella asked.
Luc sighed, and nodded, saying in a louder voice, “I’ve never really danced before.”
Bailey knew this already but still felt her smile fade. She pushed it back into megawatt territory. “Well, that’s awesome.”
“It is?”
She nodded. “It means we don’t have to unlearn any bad habits.” She rubbed her hands together. “I’ve got you now, and you’re mine, all mine.”
He snickered. “You’re weird.”
“I know. Just imagine how weird you’re going to be at the end of this.”
He gave a burst of rumbly laughter. “Come on then, Miss Dance Pro. Let’s see what you got. Hit me.”
* * *
He felt like he’d been hit by a ten-ton truck. Bailey had transformed from Miss Sparkly into Ms. No-Nonsense as she guided him into the movements, explaining all kinds of things he barely grasped, too focused on the way she touched him, maneuvering his body as she pushed him around, seemingly unconscious of what such movements must look like to the camera crew. Sure, he’d had a vague idea of what would be involved, but this awareness of just how physical it would be, how close they would get, to the point he could see a sweat bead sliding along her collarbone, he hadn’t expected that.
She was studying his hips now, tapping his right, as he tentatively held her left hip. He’d been worried about touching her, feeling like a moose trying to hold hands with a butterfly, but then she’d just slapped his hand there, and grasped his left hand, and now seemed none too shy about pushing and prodding him to move the way she wanted.
“Now put your right foot back.”
He put a foot back.
She shook her head. “No, your right foot.”
He did the same movement.
She laughed. “The other right foot.” She tapped his right hip again.
Oh.
“Now, put it back, then bring it in.”
He obeyed.
“Okay, now let’s look at your arms. Lift them out, then…” She stood behind him and pushed his right arm forward, slightly down. “You’re going to grab my back so hold your hand like this.” She demonstrated. “Remember, it’s all about the frame, and they want to see you upright, not hunched over, so keep your shoulders set, locked in place, and don’t lean forward. There needs to be space between us.” She shifted to the front, clasping his right hand he hadn’t dared move.
She spread her fingers between his, and drew him into the movements.
He tried to follow, but he was clumsy, nearly tripping over her feet in his attempts to not do that very thing. “Man.”
“It’s okay. You’re gonna get there.”
Yeah. Sure he was.
“Just smoke the opposition, okay?”
He smiled, but it was like her words clicked his brain into gear. He needed to concentrate. She was doing her best to help him. He needed to do his best to hold up his side of the bargain and try too.
“You don’t need to frown,” she said, pushing a finger between his eyebrows.
“That’s my thinking face.”
She nodded. “Well, you don’t want to show the judges you’re thinking so hard. So just relax. You’ll get this.”
He didn’t think so, but… “Okay.” He exhaled. “It’s just dancing, right? How hard can this be?”
* * *
Man. Why hadn’t anybody ever told him how hard dancing could be? Luc wobbled like an old man to his tan leather couch then crashed on it. He heard a splintering sound, that just may have been a leg crumbling—a couch leg, not his own, though they felt just as likely to.
Every single muscle screamed for an ice bath. He hadn’t known four hours of dance—more like five, because Bailey was being a drill sergeant, keeping him on his toes until his toes couldn’t handle it anymore—could hurt so much. Who would’ve thought he’d ache more from dance than hockey? He needed a massage, stat.
Yet Bailey barely sweated. He’d thought his fitness was good, but hers was next-level, which made him all the more amazed.
Bailey really was amazing. She was so patient with him, so encouraging. She really knew her stuff, not being shy about pushing him around simply because he was twice the size of her. Well, not in height, because that would’ve been dumb. With her heels on she came to his chin, which wasn’t too bad, he supposed. The mirrors in her studio suggested that wouldn’t look too ridiculous, anyway.
He eased his leg out, toeing off his shoes, that fell with a soft thud, thud to the floor. She’d warned him she’d go soft on him today, his first day. If this was soft he’d hate to see what tough was.
His phone rang. He was tempted to ignore it. He’d gotten way too many crazy messages from people in recent days. He glanced at the screen anyway, then pressed answer.
“Hey Mom.”
“Lucas. How did you go today?”
He closed his eyes and groaned.
His mother chuckled. “That good, eh?”
“She’s a little warhorse. Like, worse than Coach Frantzen.”
“But she looks so sweet and pretty.”
“She is. I mean,” he cleared his throat, “she looks sweet, but she’s really mean, Ma. Always picking on me.” He smiled.
“Uh-oh.”
“What?”
“You like her, huh?”
“No.” He winced. He sounded like a little kid.
“I saw the way you two were yesterday morning on that breakfast show. You like her.”
“Mom, she’s fun, and yes, she’s pretty, but she’s a pro and so am I. Nothing can happen.” If he said it enough, his brain might send the message to his senses to stop noticing her so much. Like that moment earlier when Bailey had looked at him, then tapped his bicep and said, “How strong are you feeling?”
He’d flexed, then said “Plenty strong”, kinda hoping that would make it onto the camera, as long as it didn’t make him look like a tool.
Then she said, “I didn’t think I’d do a lift on the first day, but because you’re so big and strong I feel like we can do this.”
She’d then proceeded to instruct him on how to lift her, and he’d grabbed her under her arms and spun her. And somehow, in that moment, he could understand what the fuss was about, why the male dancers on the show owned their dancing prowess without a hint of embarrassment or apology. Because dancing like this, with her, her hair flying out, her absolute trust in him, felt good. More than good, he felt strong and powerful, but also, for the first time in his life, he’d felt sexy too.
Maybe that had been the result of the way she’d looked at him after, eyes wide. “You do have some strength to you, don’t you?”
“I try,” he’d said, as modestly as he could.
“I bet you could bench press two of me.”
“How much do you weigh?”
She told him.
He nodded. “Yeah, I probably could.” He’d then glanced at where the cameras kept rolling. “Want to try now?”
She’d laughed, declined, then winked. “You gotta give them something for tomorrow.”
He smiled at that now, then became aware that his mom had asked him something and he hadn’t noticed. “Sorry, Ma, what did you say?”
“I want to know about tickets. How do your father and I get tickets to watch you perform on Sunday?”
“Oh no, you do not want to come.”
“You’ll be in Toronto, not Winnipeg for a change. Do you know how much easier it is to drive there than Manitoba?”
His parents didn’t like to fly. Well, Mom didn’t, and their home in Mercier, Quebec meant they didn’t see him play too often, except when he played Montreal or Ottawa. “I don’t know if I want anyone I know there seeing me.”
“Lucas, are you telling me you’re happy to be seen by millions on TV and not your own family?”
He wasn’t saying that anymore.
“Besides, I want to meet her.”
“Meet who?”
“Your dance girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend, Ma. She’s my dance partner.”
“Potato, potata, I don’t care. I want to meet her.”
He held back a sigh, feeling this was perhaps only fair considering he’d forced Bailey to meet his friends. Via video chat, but whatever. “I’ll see what I can do,” he finally said. “If not this week, we’ll try for next.”
“Good. Now make me proud.”
“Always, Ma.”
The call ended, and he prayed for his folks. They might not know Jesus yet, but they were on the journey. Which got him wondering about the girl his mom was so desperate to meet.
What would she say when she met his folks? He blinked. And did her parents want to meet him? Oh man.