Carlos Read online

  Carlos

  Krista Carleson

  Quick Escape Press

  © Copyright 2018 by Krista Carleson - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Published by Quick Escape Press

  [email protected]

  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

  Also by Krista Carleson

  1

  “So, doc? Will I survive?” I asked Dr. Webber after my check-up, grinning at him.

  He returned my smile and adjusted his glasses. “Just barely,” he joked and leaned his elbows against his desk. “On a serious note, you can rest assured that your hip has fully recovered.” I broke into a huge smile, thrilled to bits after six months of being in a slump.

  I had a major car accident when a truck hit my car in the middle of an intersection, which left me with a broken hip and needing surgery. I was hospitalized for two weeks, bedridden and in terrible pain, and I had to go through several months of physical therapy. I wasn’t able to move without crutches, and in some dark moments, I actually thought I was never going to walk normally again.

  But six long months later, I could finally close that chapter of my life. This deserved a celebration.

  “Finally,” I said. “I know you told me I should be patient and that it won’t last forever, but it really felt like forever.”

  “I understand, but it’s all in the past now. Your hip has healed nicely, and you can start doing some physical activity now. Something along the lines of yoga or dance to begin with. This would be great for your recovery and also, it’d be good for your agility and overall muscle tone.”

  “I would love that,” I replied enthusiastically.

  I’d always wanted to start dancing, ever since I saw Dirty Dancing as a teenager, thinking that one day I would have my own sexy instructor who would hold me the way Patrick Swayze held Jennifer Grey. There was something undeniably sensual about moving as one with your partner, letting the music pervade you and ignite you.

  “Now, that’s the spirit! Just take it easy on yourself. Start with beginner classes and make sure you don’t over exert yourself.”

  “Sure, doc. I’ll take it slow.”

  “You’ll be okay, Lindsey. You’ve been through a lot, but you’re a strong young woman and a fighter.”

  I was lucky to have met Dr. Webber. He was patient with me and guided me through some dark days, attentive to my needs. He told me I was able to recover quickly only because of my determination, but I had to give him some credit. If it hadn’t been for his optimism and understanding, I would’ve probably taken a few more months to recover. I couldn’t have asked for a better orthopedist.

  I felt like a new person when I got out of his office and went down the street, able to breathe more easily after a long period of uncertainty and stress. The crutches that were my constant companion had been a pain in the ass, along with the dull pain in my hip that followed me occasionally, but I was free from them at last.

  The physical therapy was the hardest. I had to fight to make each new step, and crossing a room seemed like crossing a mountain. I’d thought about giving up many times, but Dr. Webber wouldn’t have it, pushing me to work harder and never stop trying.

  I fished my phone from my purse to look for some dance studios nearby. I had always wanted to dance with someone, but my ex-boyfriend wasn’t willing.

  Glen. Ugh.

  A huge cloud appeared above me each time I thought about Glen. I’d asked him many times to indulge me and try dancing but he couldn’t be bothered, telling me it was stupid and a waste of time.

  He never bothered to do many things for me, which was proven time and again when I broke my hip.

  I met Glen Burbridge three years ago at a mutual friend’s party. He was handsome, charming, and had a nice smile, so I didn’t think twice when he approached me and struck up a conversation. We had a great time together, and when we ended up at his place later that night, one thing led to another, and he took me against the wall, showing me how good sex could be.

  The first few months were dreamlike, and I had fallen for him pretty fast. My best friend Natalie bet me he would propose by the end of the year, already coming up with names for our children. I thought it was too early to talk about marriage, though I wouldn’t oppose if he actually proposed to me one day.

  However, it was true that all good things had to come to an end, because one year into our relationship, the first red flag showed up. Glen began displaying controlling tendencies, trying to limit my time with Nat and my other friends, and we started arguing so badly that at one point his neighbors called the police after all the screaming.

  He apologized and brought me a large bouquet of flowers the next day, and the naïve and foolish me was too ready to forgive him and give him another chance. We made up in my bed, and the stars were aligned once more.

  What followed were months and months of giving endless chances, during which I felt more miserable and lost. He did a number on me, often berating, controlling, and making me feel unworthy of love. He would go from nice to nasty in a flash and it was all too much to bear.

  I loved him, and I tried my hardest to make our relationship work, blinded by his gentle and caring moments. However, it takes two to tango, and I realized too late I’d been living in an illusion all that time.

  He was never there for me—especially during my recovery—and his indifference and lack of support were the last straw. Fed up with insecurities and loneliness, I broke up with him a month ago.

  I’d thought life would get easier. I’d thought I would feel better, finally in control of my life. But I was wrong. I found myself experiencing some serious trust issues and my self-esteem had eroded over time. Whenever I saw a man who attracted me, this voice inside my head said I shouldn’t bother. That I wasn’t capable of making good choices when it came to men.

  Nat wanted me to go out and have fun, and she had even set me up for a blind date two weeks ago, but the guy just stared at my boobs while we were talking, and all I could think about was that he only wanted me for sex and nothing else. So I left the date halfway through and stuffed myself with popcorn while reading a romance novel for the rest of the evening.

  It wasn’t easy for me to go out and pretend my life was perfect, and I wasn’t even sure I could handle being with someone new at the moment, but I guessed only time would tell.

  Maybe I should just adopt a few cats and become a spinster. That would bring me less headaches than giving it all only to get let down by the person you loved.

  The sound of the horn in the distance snatched me out of my musing, and I focused on my phone screen.

  Google search told me the nearest dance studio to me was a salsa studio. Apparently, it was a part of a chain of dance studios in the city, and it had great reviews.

  Hmm. Salsa. I never thought about it, but I loved watching salsa videos on YouTube. Google said the studio offered beginner classes too, so I decided to give it a shot.

  I c
rossed the street and followed an alley that led to a building with a dance studio with floor-to-ceiling windows that occupied its whole second floor. It was called Los Sueños.

  I had no clue what it meant except that it was written in Spanish. I went upstairs and entered a large gym, immediately greeted by loud salsa music coming from the speakers, and my pulse got a bit faster. There was just something about this music that gave me life.

  My eyes landed on a gorgeous man dancing in front of the set of mirrors with a brunette my age, and I halted mid-step, suddenly flustered. He didn’t even notice me standing in the room, looking at his partner as if she was the only woman in the world, which held me captivated.

  All of a sudden, the idea of starting salsa classes seemed much more appealing.

  2

  There was something magical about dancing together with a partner. The connection, the passion, the coordinated moves that made the dance seem impeccable. And then the way the dancers look at each other—as if their hearts were beating in unison.

  It was no wonder that I was a sucker for dance movies. I needed them like an alcoholic needed their next drink, feeding myself with fantasies of love found through dancing. I longed to experience the feeling of having a unique bond and a silent language with someone, especially during the last several months of my relationship with Glen. I had never felt lonelier in my life, so I eagerly embraced the illusions of happily-ever-after these movies provided.

  The hot latino guy and the woman looked just like those pairs I grew to admire. They were completely in sync, enthralled by each other as their bodies followed the rhythm of the music.

  I couldn’t stop watching him flawlessly leading her, spellbound as my eyes followed them around the room. He was lithe, tall, and muscular, moving with a graceful masculinity. He placed his hand on her stomach and brought her against his chest, swaying with her as the tempo of the song slowed down. They looked so perfect together, and my stomach churned with the need to have someone hold me like that. Preferably, that guy.

  When they finished dancing, smiling at each other, I couldn’t help but clap, admiring their skills.

  The dancer finally noticed me and approached, wearing a smile that melted all of me. He looked even more gorgeous up close, his smooth caramel skin, thick, black wavy hair and deep brown eyes leaving me breathless. I had a weakness for latino guys, but he was something else, alright.

  I couldn’t look away from his body clad in black dancing tights and a black tank top. He was checking me out too, and my breath hitched in my throat. I was wearing plain dark pants and a white shirt that was unbuttoned at the top to reveal part of my bosom, but I felt like I was naked. His fiery eyes stripped me of all clothes, his smirk creating a short circuit in my brain, and for a few moments, I forgot we weren’t alone.

  I glanced at his large, manly hands, and I imagined them on me, touching all of me.

  “Hello,” he said in a deep, accented voice, and I snapped my gaze up to meet his.

  It took me a few moments to form a response in my head, confused because I hadn’t been this attracted to anyone, not even Glen.

  Glen was handsome and muscular too, but there was something so warm and sensual about this guy that made me feel appreciated for being female—in a good way.

  “Hello,” I replied, finding my voice at last. It sounded high-pitched, but if he thought it was weird, he didn’t show it. Only now, I realized he was an instructor and not a student, and I thought how I would attend salsa classes for the rest of my life if I had an instructor as hot as him.

  “How can I help you?” His voice was velvet, and it caressed my ears.

  “I came to sign up for salsa lessons. By the way, you and your partner dance beautifully. If I was doubting even the slightest whether I should join this studio or not, you had me convinced.”

  He broke into laughter, and it was captivating. I stared transfixed at him, listening to the rich sound that did something strange to the pit of my belly.

  “You had doubts about joining salsa classes? No lo puedo creer.”

  “Sorry?”

  He flashed me a wide smile and offered his hand for a handshake. “It means I can’t believe it. By the way, I’m Carlos. It’s nice to meet you.”

  I eyed his big hand before I accepted it, an instant buzz of excitement coursing through my veins.

  “I’m Lindsey. It’s nice to meet you too.”

  He didn’t let go of me immediately, his beautiful dark eyes reaching deep into me until I was dazed. When he retracted his hand, for some strange reason, I missed it, needy for his skin against mine.

  It must have been this summer heat that was getting to me. There was no other way to explain why I was feeling like a hormonal teenager out of the blue.

  He ran his hand through his thick, wavy hair that was slicked back. “So Lindsey, have you ever tried dancing salsa before?” The way my name rolled off his tongue sounded too good.

  I glanced at the girl, who was now sitting on the bench and wiping off her sweaty face with her towel.

  “No. This is the first time I’ve ever signed up for any dance classes. I was in a car accident six months ago and broke my hip. So my doctor advised that I try dancing as a part of my recovery.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your accident.” He assessed my hip, and I found an understanding in his gaze, as if he’d been through the same or a similar situation. “How are you feeling now?”

  “I’m okay, and I can fully walk and move on my own, but I have to take it easy at first. So that’s why I came here. I saw that you offered beginner classes.”

  He nodded. “You came to the right place. I hold beginner classes on Fridays and Sundays. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds great. I just hope I can keep up with the rest of the group.”

  His warm eyes never left mine, and I had difficulty swallowing. Seriously, this man was gorgeous. I was starting to wonder how a girl could focus on dancing with this fine male specimen in front of her. His face carried a sheen of sweat, but it only made him more attractive, and I imagined what it would be like to kiss those nice, plump lips that looked so inviting.

  “You’re in luck, because I’m starting to work with a new group from this Friday, and we’ll begin with the basics and introduce new moves gradually.”

  “That’s good. I know a little about salsa from watching YouTube videos, but it’s a whole other thing to actually do it.”

  “Hey, Carlos! I’m off,” the brunette said, having picked up her gym bag and switched her high heel sandals for flats, heading for the door.

  “See you later, Camilla. Good luck with the competition.”

  “Thanks. Bye,” she said and winked at me before she passed me by and got out.

  “Camilla has a regional salsa competition this weekend. If she wins, she’ll go through to the state competition.”

  “I’m sure she will because she’s a great dancer.” Just like you, I thought, but I didn’t voice that.

  He let out a raspy chuckle. “Yeah. She says dancing is in her blood and that she started dancing as soon as she learned how to walk. Anyway, I would love to have you in my classes.”

  I was more than aware that Carlos and I were all alone in his studio, and it suddenly felt intimate. He barely took his eyes off of me, looking at me like I was the most gorgeous girl in the world, and for the first time after a long time, I felt special.

  That voice of doubt returned to punish me. It reminded me that he had looked the same way at the brunette that just got out, and that he probably used that look on all girls. My enthusiasm doused, I willed myself to remember not to get overly excited about Carlos and this dancing thing.

  “Oh, before I forget. What is the dress code? And do I have to wear heels? I don’t want to risk wearing heels so soon.”

  “Dress casually and don’t worry about the heels because they aren’t mandatory. I tell all my students to wear something that they feel most comfortable in. And since you’ve
suffered a serious injury, we’ll go at your pace, and if there’s something you can’t do, we won’t force it.”

  I returned his smile. “Then where can I sign up?”

  He led me to the counter in the corner of the room, and we went through the standard procedure. I gave him my full name and the contact info, and we agreed on the type of classes and duration. I would start with one month, and if I was satisfied, I would continue with the classes.

  “Welcome to Los Sueños,” he said when the formalities were done, and I didn’t miss a quick once-over he gave me as I stood up from the chair, ready to leave.

  “Thanks. I have to ask you though. What does the name mean?”

  His smile was more than charming. It reached my core and left me longing for more. “It means ‘the dreams’. It’s about following your dreams and finding the right path in your life.”

  “I see. Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you on Friday.”

  He stood up and offered me his hand once more over the counter. I gladly accepted it, my heart racing madly. “See you Friday, Lindsey.”

  He still didn’t release my hand, our eyes locked on each other, and everything stopped existing but the two of us for a couple of intense seconds. I held my breath, wishing this moment could last.

  Too quickly the spell was broken when he pulled his hand away, and I realized I wasn’t acting like myself. He was my instructor, for God’s sake, and I didn’t need to complicate things.

  But as I was on my way out of his studio, I figured out that it would be hard to stay reasonable and cool next to Carlos.

  3

  I got home, confused by my reaction to Carlos. I had never experienced something like that. I wasn’t normally one who went crazy when she saw a man as attractive as that. That was Nat, not me.