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

  The Dancing Groom

  The Royal Palm Resort Romance

  Taylor Hart

  Edited by

  Daniel Banner

  Copyright

  All rights reserved.

  © 2019 ArchStone Ink

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews. The reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form whether electronic, mechanical or other means, known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the publisher and/or author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This edition is published by ArchStone Ink LLC.

  First eBook Edition: 2019

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The Royal Palm Resort

  THE DANCING GROOM

  by Taylor Hart

  CATCHING WAVES

  by Kimberly Krey

  CATCH A FALLING STAR

  by Cindy Roland Anderson

  Acknowledgments

  To my amazing editor, Daniel Banner!

  This book would not have the depth and brilliance without Daniel and his insight and wisdom!

  Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

  Taylor

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Her First Love Billionaire: Second Chance Time Travel Romance

  Also by Taylor Hart

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Boston Brady, nicknamed “Freight Train” by the media, walked through the airport in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, looking for his brother Ty. He was here for a month to be with his brother and make sure he did the alternative treatment.

  His phone vibrated and he pulled it out, staring at his angry Twitter feed. There was a video of him running down the field and getting slammed to the ground by his other brother, Ocean, from the L.A. game last year. Boston’s ex-girlfriend, Lana Winters, had posted it with an emoji that had someone making an L sign on their forehead. He cursed and slid the phone into his pocket. Soon enough he would roast her back. Hopefully, his image didn’t suffer too much in the meantime. A post like that could cost him a thousand followers if he didn’t counter it quickly enough.

  Lana was so childish. It had only been a month since he’d broken things off with her. When he’d told her he was going to South Carolina and staying with Ty as he got alternative treatment for his ALS, she told him he shouldn’t invest a month of his time in his dying brother.

  That had been the end for him. His mother and his brothers came first in his life. If Lana was so superficial, which she was, then forget her. They’d been on again, off again for a long time. Every time they broke up, they had this little social media war. It kept them both relevant and made a few headlines on celebrity sites while giving them the break they needed from each other. This time, he wasn’t finding any joy in her posts.

  “It’s the Double B!” Ty called out as he emerged from the secure area of the airport.

  Boston scoffed; he still hated the nickname his brothers had given him in junior high. He opened his arms, and Ty ran over and hugged him. The last time they’d seen each other had been a bit over a month ago, at their brother Dax’s wedding in Puerto Rico. Boston had been nervous about how fast Ty’s condition would accelerate, but he was relieved to see Ty looked good.

  Ty excitedly scanned the area. “I’m already seeing like five chicks for you, dude.” He flashed a stupid grin, pointing finger guns at a group of girls who were staring at them as they walked toward baggage claim. “He’s available, ladies, available, and I can vouch for him.”

  One of the girls in the group giggled way too loudly. “You’re Ty Brady, right?”

  Ty turned and walked backward. “I’m Ty,” he said, pointing to Boston, “but the important one here is my brother Boston: running back for the Miami Surf. Freight Train, baby! Woot! Woot!” He made a motion that a train engineer would make while pulling on the whistle.

  The girls laughed.

  “Stop,” Boston grunted. Ty was a hoot, but after the latest flare-up with Lana, Boston was ready to swear off women forever.

  “Ha ha ha! Ah, you love me, bro. And you promised that this ‘No Regrets’ trip would be doing stuff I want to do, remember?”

  “We’re in South Carolina for your therapy. Remember?” A pit of regret smoldered in Boston’s gut. Ty wanted to act like dying gave him a license to do whatever, but this therapy was the best shot he’d get to fight this disease and possibly cure it.

  Ty gave him a suspicious look and wagged his finger at Boston. “I said I would do the alternative therapy, and I’m doing it.” He clenched his jaw and shoved Boston as they turned the corner to the baggage claim. “But you have to have fun with me, too.”

  Briefly, Boston flashed to being young and having to babysit Ty. He would swear this was the same whiny tone. “We will.”

  “Let’s not talk about the treatment until Tuesday. We still got the weekend for fun, baby. Today is about fun! Have you seen the pics of ‘The Palm’?” he asked, making air quotes. “It looks lit and legit!”

  Boston couldn’t help but smile a little. He loved his brother’s optimism and excitement, even if he wasn’t feeling the same right now.

  As they moved toward luggage claim, Boston thought about how all four brothers had agreed to do some No Regrets bucket list items with Ty. It had just worked out that Dr. Cruz could get Ty in this month, and the off-season was the perfect time for Boston to take a month off for his brother.

  “I have demands for this trip because remember, it is still part of the ‘No Regrets’ trip. Are you ready to hear them?” Ty asked as they rounded the corner.

  “Lay them on me,” Boston conceded. With all the crap going on his life with Lana, it would be fun to spend the next thirty days doing whatever crazy stuff Ty wanted to do. Although he was grateful Ziggy had already dealt with the retro RV trip. That had been loads of fun to sit back and hear about, but Boston probably wouldn’t have enjoyed actually taking part in it.

  “Okay, good thing The Palm was on my bucket list, so we’re lucky there.”

  “The Palm will be cool.”

  Ty let out a light laugh. “I mean, how much luckier can a dying guy get, right?”

  Boston bit back his knee-jerk response. Ziggy and his mother had told him how cavalier Ty was about this dying thing. “Totally.
”

  Looking around to meet Boston’s eyes, Ty cocked an eyebrow.

  Boston needed to nip this “dying thing” comment in the bud. “You don’t have to keep telling me how you’re dying, though, right?”

  Ty narrowed his eyes at him, then pointed to the luggage carousel. “That one’s mine. Race ya.” He navigated his way through the other passengers and quickly took his bag off of the revolving belt, then wound his way back out.

  Boston almost took the bag out of his hand, but then he remembered Ziggy’s forceful warning. “Don’t treat him like he needs help, dude. Don’t do it.”

  “I may be dying,” Ty commented, “but I’m still quicker than you.”

  Boston wasn’t going to do this the whole trip. “Guess what, baby bro? We’re all dying. Me, you, Ziggy, Ocean, Dax. And we don’t go around talking about it all day.” Maybe a form of tough love would shut him up.

  Ty hesitated, looking him up and down. “Whatever.”

  Boston didn’t want to get into it so soon. He gestured toward the east exit. “I’m in extended parking, this way.” Shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from grabbing the suitcase, he hid a frustrated sigh and tried to be upbeat for Ty as they headed for the car. “So—finish telling me what you got planned.”

  “Everything.” Ty started rattling off a list of activities.

  Boston frowned, only half listening. When his phone buzzed, he pulled it out and saw another “Loser” picture Lana had posted of him.

  That was it. Boston couldn’t sit back any longer and take the abuse. He had just the picture of Lana to get her back. She’d been half-blinking when he’d snapped it—

  “Dude.” Ty snapped his fingers in Boston’s face. “No, we’re not doing this social media every second. Every time you check that phone, I remind you that I’m dying.”

  “Sorry. Lana’s annoying.” Boston put his phone away as they arrived at the red Mustang that Boston had rented earlier. They put the suitcase in the trunk, got in, and then navigated out of the parking lot.

  As they pulled onto the freeway and started heading toward Myrtle Beach, Ty said, “You’re gonna forget all about the she-devil soon enough. The Palm has surf lessons, tennis, horse riding lessons, beach time, an auditorium for entertainers and shows, and fantastic food, like five-star restaurants, bro. But I told you the thing you’re doing with me.”

  “Dance lessons,” Boston said cynically.

  Ty laughed and then clapped. “Yeah, bro, dance lessons. We got the rumba, mamba, cha-cha, and country.” Of course Ty, as a big-name country singer, was biased toward that genre.

  “I thought I left that all behind in college,” Boston protested.

  “They didn’t teach you country swing dancing in college. I bet it’s enough to convert you to country music.” Ty roared out a laugh when Boston groaned. “And I’m still not done negotiating my terms of fun, so suck it up.”

  “Fine.”

  Boston pulled his phone out when it buzzed, staring at a tweet from Lana that was tagged #loserBoston, complete with an unflattering picture of him doing chin-ups. “Why did I ever stay with him?” the tweet read.

  “I’ll swing dance,” Boston said, frowning. Instinctively, he started to reply to the tweet.

  Ty said casually, “The life expectancy for ALS is two to five years. How much of our short time together are you going to be on your phone, fighting with the she-devil?”

  Boston knew what Ty was doing, and he almost snapped back, but Ty was right. He really didn’t want to hear all this talk about dying. “Fine.” He slid his phone into the cup holder.

  “I’m about ready to block you and Lana on all social media. I hate it when you fight like this. What sparked the conflagration this time?”

  Boston wouldn’t tell Ty the reason. “Nothing a little country swing dancing won’t fix.”

  Ty let out another round of laughter, then leaned back into the seat and stared out the window. “Yep, country swing is just what you need to get over that screen addiction.”

  The comment made Boston’s hackles rise. So what if he was addicted? Wasn’t everyone addicted?

  “Seriously,” said Ty, “why do you live in the fake world? All that social media isn’t good for you.”

  Boston weaved down the freeway. “Clearly, you check my fake world, don’t you?”

  Ty grunted. “But you, like, live in it. You guys fight on social media instead of just talking things out. It’s stupid.”

  Boston glanced at him, staring out the passenger side window as the beach came into view. There was another prick at his heart. “It’s complicated.”

  “That’s what dying does for you, bro; it uncomplicates things fast.”

  “Ty!” Boston said sharply.

  “Hey, you’re talking about the complicated she-devil. It’s my right to talk about uncomplicated dying.”

  Boston rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help smile at Ty’s nickname for Lana.

  The gigantic beach resort came into view, boasting an impressive palm tree forest.

  Ty grabbed Boston’s shoulder and shook it, letting out a little squeak. “We’re staying at The Palm, man.”

  Boston laughed. “Get off me and quit girl squealing!”

  Ty was giddy. “Never thought staying in a beach resort like this would be our lives, did you?”

  Boston took in the palm trees, the fancy cars in the parking lot, the sound of the beach. His dad would have loved to bring him and his brothers to a place like this. But his father had been dead for almost three years. “It’s nice,” he finally said, pulling up to the security gate next to the entrance.

  “Yeah.” Ty was like a little kid, sitting up on his seat and peering over the gate. “Dude, I see girls.”

  That was the last thing Boston needed. He rolled down his window and saw a younger-looking guy in a beach shirt and matching visor that read “The Palm.”

  The guy stepped out of the guard shack. “Hi there. You must be the Brady Brothers?” He looked at an iPad.

  “Yep.” Boston breathed in the humid air and smelled the saltiness of the ocean. It was a formula for relaxation, and Boston already felt the tension leaving him. The trip wasn’t under the best of circumstances, but at least he would be staying at a beach resort, right?

  The guy gave them keys to the Pemberly House along with a map, which he used to show them the layout of the resort as well as some of the activities offered at the resort. The area behind their house was a private beach, and it would be all theirs for the most part. Paparazzi wasn’t allowed anywhere nearby, which would be a welcome break for both brothers.

  With a mighty rattle, the huge cast-iron gate lifted. Boston drove through and saw a parking lot, with roads that led to the various parts of The Palm.

  “This is awesome,” Ty said, pressing the button to take down the top of the car. He put his hands up and yelled out as Boston took the street to their beach house. “Best trip ever!”

  Boston let out a chuckle. One way or another, he had a feeling Ty’s prediction would come true.

  Chapter 2

  Addison Adair stared at herself in the mirror of the Palm Resort’s large dance studio. She’d just finished a class and was getting ready to head out for a lunch break, right after a quick practice.

  Christian Lopez, her longtime friend, and the guy who was going to save her bacon walked in, gave her a nod, and dropped his bag. They’d been friends since they were fourteen when they’d ended up on the same dance circuit. “How was class?”

  Addison had only been at The Palm for a week, but it was like she was alive again, back to teaching and dancing on a daily basis. “Great.”

  She wasn’t sure it was what she needed to get her in shape enough to make the pending tryout for the dance company she’d left over two years ago, but Christian had agreed to be her partner for tryouts, and they could practice together over the next three weeks, so she’d agreed to it. Teaching would be productive as well. She always found new creative f
ire when she helped students reach new heights.

  “We get the best visitors here at The Palm.” He put out his hand, and she took it. At the simple touch, both transformed into dancers: Addison poised and ready to be directed, and Christian strong and in charge. So different from some of the patrons she’d worked with that morning.

  He turned her, and they moved into the opening merengue steps of the routine.

  She let out a light laugh as she remembered the older people in the cha-cha class. “The Baxters crack me up.” She spun out, then came back in. “The old man was seriously putting his hand on her butt, and she would squeal and slap it away.”

  Christian laughed too as he switched hands and swiveled his hips along with the music. “I know. What are they, like, mid-eighties? I hope I’m able to dance like that and be so in love with my wife when I’m that age.”

  Jason’s face flashed into her mind, and unexpected pain shot through her chest. As Christian led her from right to left in front of his body, she tripped over his foot and was out of the routine just like that. She tried to stay in the moment, but the juice was gone. The dance just wasn’t in her blood right now. She rushed toward her bag. “I know, right?” Dang. She could not think about the heart attack, her husband in the hospital, the sheet pulled over his lifeless face.

  “You okay?” Christian called out.