“Okay. We’ll forget about it and move forward. You ready to work? Thousands of girls would kill to be in your spot,” he reminded her.
“I’m ready.”
Beckham handed her a coffee and she mumbled her thanks. She took as many gulps as she could before they got started and then popped some gum in her mouth. She might hate him, but she still wanted to smell decent when she was grinding up against him.
She barely looked at Beckham, but as soon as the music started and they began to move together, the magic began. Their chemistry was undeniable.
Beckham began showing up at all the rehearsals. And she’d thought he might stay to himself a little, but he was always in the center of everything. He had an easy way with everyone else. In the middle of lunch one day, he started doing imitations from Harry Potter and had it down perfectly.
He was in the middle of going back and forth between Dumbledore and Snape:
“He has her eyes…”
(A gasp from Snape.)
“If you truly loved her…”
“No one can ever know…”
He nailed it and Roxie started laughing along with everyone else. He noticed her laughing and cut off in mid-sentence, his cheeks suddenly tinging with pink. She quickly stopped and the hurt that briefly crossed his eyes made Roxie’s stomach clench with guilt. The rest of the week she went home for lunch.
Anthony had asked her to meet every weekend so far and each time she agreed without any argument. When she walked in, Beckham’s eyes burned on her like they had every day for weeks now. He tentatively gave her the coffee he’d continued to bring and she quietly thanked him. This time, though, his hand brushed against hers when he handed it to her. She looked up quickly and almost dropped the coffee.
“When am I gonna win you over, Roxie Taylor?” he asked quietly.
“Never,” she replied.
He laughed nervously. “Well, at least you’re honest. I’d like to talk to you after the rehearsal today. You run out of here so fast every day, I can’t seem to get to the bottom of what I’ve done to make you despise me.”
She studied him.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I’m thinking that you’re not used to someone not falling all over themselves just because they’re near you.”
He blinked and bit his lip, a grin just under the surface. “You’re right. I’m not. Can I be honest now?” He raised his eyebrows and leaned in when she didn’t answer. “It gets annoying.”
She rolled her eyes just as Anthony started the music. Today she was dancing on her own. It was a song where Beckham was supposed to stand like stone while she tried to ‘win back his affection’ with her dance. Anthony talked over what he wanted from her, showing her specifically in some sections, but then letting her take it from there. It was all about the emotion. She put every ounce of heartache and loss she’d felt, every bit of anger and also the longing…
When the song ended, the room was silent. Roxie tried to discreetly wipe the tear that had fallen toward the end. She’d gotten too caught up in it.
“Wow,” Anthony finally spoke. “Do you think you can do that every night? That was flawless.”
They wrapped it up quickly and Roxie was on the way to her car when Beckham stepped beside her. When they reached her car, he moved in front of her car door.
“Remember I wanted to talk?”
“I never agreed to that.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m just getting tired of this … animosity you seem to have toward me. What have I done?”
“If you don’t remember, I’m not going to remind you!” she snapped.
“I just need to know.” His chest rose while he stared at her. “Did we … sleep together?” he asked, cringing.
She tightened her ponytail and put her hands on her hips. “Why does it matter?” she finally said.
“So we did,” he groaned.
To her horror, tears welled up in her eyes. Oh God, she was making such a fool out of herself.
“Let me go, Beckham. I’m tired. I just wanna go home.”
He moved, but touched her shoulder. “Roxie. I-just … I’m sorry.”
She held her hand up for him to back off and he did. And once again, he watched her car squeal out of the parking lot.
Ian took his band with him the next time he went to the warehouse. The guys were pumped about the new tour development. Beckham had some of the country’s best musicians—players Ian and his guys couldn’t wait to mesh with on the road. This collaboration felt like a huge step up in each one of their careers. Donny was happiest of all. During Ian’s last two visits, he’d taken credit for what he liked to call the ‘best collaboration of the decade’ and Ian gladly let him. He was glad to distract Donny with something besides chemo.
“Who needs groupies when there’s all this eye candy?” Chris said when they walked inside.
Aaron was quick to agree. Charlie had a girlfriend, but his eyes were still wide as he took in the dancers and singers rehearsing.
“You didn’t tell us, man,” Chris nudged Ian.
He shrugged. Honestly, he hadn’t thought much more beyond the fact that they danced well, especially the girl Beckham was dancing with—Ian couldn’t remember her name. He grinned when he saw the way Beck looked at her. The guy wasn’t kidding—he had it bad.
“I knew you were whipped, but have you become blind? Jeez, Ian, look how flexible they are…” Aaron groaned.
He thought about Sparrow doing yoga and wished he was home. She’d been working on it for a year and a half and had actually gotten damn good. It had been comical at first, although he’d tried hard as hell not to laugh. She nearly gave up, due to how hard it was, being a bit physically challenged in the balance/tripping on nothing department. She stayed with it, though, and it had helped her immensely—she rarely got bruises now from bumping into everything, and she hadn’t fallen in over a year. It became their challenge to see if she could hold her pose while he teased her body in every way possible. He knew all about flexible.
The guys teased Ian all the time about being Sparrow-whipped. He knew it was true and he owned it with pride. There was no other woman for him, period. He didn’t believe in the saying, ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater’, because the very core of his heart had changed. The broken parts that made him who he was had been welded back together. The scars were there to make him appreciate what he had, but new skin had grown in its place. He didn’t view women the way he used to. They still came on to him all the time—it was part of the business—but he had no emptiness to fill, nothing to prove. That made all the difference. Sparrow made all the difference. You didn’t lose the love of your life and then get her back and not learn something from it.
The song ended and Beckham slowly backed away from the girl, like he hated to do it. He turned toward Ian, but it took a minute before his eyes focused. Ian’s laugh seemed to shake him out of the fog.
“Ian, come meet everyone,” Beckham said, motioning them forward. He walked toward them too, holding out his hand to Ian and pounding his back. “Sexiest Man Alive right here, people!” he yelled, laughing.
Ian gave his hair a yank and made a face. “So how does it work—do you suddenly stop being sexiest when someone else is selected? Am I gonna need therapy when that happens?”
“It’s why I’ve won so many times,” Beckham teased. “They see how down I get about losing the title and slap it on me again.”
Ian introduced Beck to the guys, who were sufficiently awed, and then Beck took them to meet the crew. He met the band leader, Hollis, first. Great guy. Everyone was friendly, some seemed especially star-struck, which cracked up both Beck and Ian. Beck’s sister, Sierra, shook when she met him. Ian elbowed Beck when he teased her about it. There was a dancer, Brooke, who seemed like trouble. She did a thing with her tongue when they were introduced, which Ian thought might be some sort of tick or something, but then she did a weird stroke with her finger down the middle of his palm when they shook hands. He dropped her hand like it burned and moved on. Eventually, Beck reached Roxie. He touched her shoulder and she stiffened, moving away from him and closer to Ian.