Dance With Me (With Me in Seattle #12)(5)

“Don’t be a dick.” I toss a chip at him, but he catches it out of the air and pops it into his mouth.

“Listen to this one,” Logan says, joining in on the fun. “Dear Starla, I don’t usually write letters like this—”

“Which is code for they write them all the time,” Jax adds.

“—but I need to tell you that your music has changed my life. I started dancing, at home at first, but then at the gym in an Oula class when I got more confident. I’ve lost a hundred and twenty pounds.”

“Holy shit,” Jax says and whistles through his teeth. “I take it back, that’s a cool letter.”

“Very cool,” I agree before taking another big bite of my burrito. “What’s in that puffy envelope?”

Jax reaches for it and opens it, revealing a necklace in a black velvet pouch. The pendant is half of a heart that says Best.

“I’m assuming whoever sent this kept the friend part?” Jax asks.

“Is that creepy to anyone but me?” I ask thoughtfully.

“Kinda creepy,” Logan agrees. “But maybe it’s a young girl.”

“If that’s the case, it’s not creepy.” I nod in agreement.

“How are things?” Jax asks, finally setting aside the letters and opening his own burrito. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better,” I admit. “The house is great. Seeing you guys helps, too.”

“She loves us,” Jax says to Logan, who just smirks. They’ve been married for more than five years now. I can’t believe how fast the time has gone. Back in the early days of my career, Jax and Meredith were dancers on my first tour. They’ve choreographed every show since, even though they don’t travel anymore. They’ve settled down in Seattle, running a dance studio and loving their lives.

They’re my best friends in the world, and I miss them. Meredith was totally right to suggest I spend a few months here. I would be going nuts in that mausoleum I own in LA.

“Are you resting like the doctor told you to?” Logan asks. He’s the more laid back of the two of them. But both are stupidly attractive.

“I’ve never slept well,” I reply honestly. “But I’m not dancing and singing my ass off every night anymore. I’m taking it easy.”

“Dizzy?” Jax asks.

“Nope. It’s gotten better. So I’m ready to get back into the studio and dance.”

Logan frowns. “Is that a good idea?”

“I’ll take it easy on her,” Jax says, watching me. He knows me. “She should stay active so she doesn’t lose her fitness level.”

“Exactly,” I agree. “And so I don’t resort to murder.”

“That would be unfortunate.” Logan chuckles and wads his empty wrapper in his hands, then tosses it into the bag it came in. “Let me read another letter from an admirer.”

“I want admirers,” Jax says.

“I admire you, darling,” Logan replies, blowing his husband a kiss.

“You guys are ridiculously adorable.” I laugh as I shut the lid on the letters. “I’ll go through these later.”

“They should sort them for you,” Jax says. “Like, read ahead and categorize them in case there’s anything creepy in there.”

“Like an earlobe or something?” I ask with a raised brow.

“Ew. No, serial killer. Like just weird stalker-type stuff.”

Like the email I got this morning.

I clear my throat, and Jax’s eyes narrow.

“What happened?”

“What are you talking about? Nothing.”

He shakes his head, and Logan’s gaze bounces back and forth between us.

“What’s up?” Logan asks.

“Nothing,” I repeat.

“You’re a bad liar,” Jax says.

“Stop harassing me. You’ll make me dizzy.”

“You’re going to milk that for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

I smile angelically and pop another chip into my mouth.

“When do we get to dance?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Today, if you want.”

“I want.”

“That’s my cue to get back to work,” Logan says, standing and gathering our mess to throw away. “I’ll see you later. Are we still going car shopping tomorrow?”

“If you have time, yes,” I say with a smile. “I need some wheels, and I’m feeling well enough to drive. Finally.”

“Then wheels the lady shall have,” Logan replies. He kisses Jax, then gives me a hug and walks out.

“He’s hot.” My voice is casual in a matter-of-fact way.

“Girl, you have no idea,” Jax replies with a laugh. He cues up some music on his phone and scoots the couch out of the way, giving us plenty of space on the hardwood floor to dance.

“I love that we can do this anywhere.”

“Me, too.”

The music starts, pulsing through the room. The song isn’t one of mine, which I prefer. I don’t want this to feel like work.

We immediately move into an old routine from my previous tour. It’s not acrobatic, which is good as my muscles loosen, warming up.