One
Gina Morales clutched the edge of her seat in a white-knuckled grip and gave her field producer a side-eyed glare as he and the camera crew sorted through equipment.
A seaplane. They’d stuffed her into an honest-to-god seaplane.
The aircraft was painted bright yellow and blue with a tiny propeller stuck to the nose, cute little wings, and pontoons positioned underneath. It looked like a model toy, not something rational human beings who valued their lives should travel in.
Yet here she was, flying in a tin can over a large body of water somewhere in Southeast Alaska, while the motor droned on like a monstrous mosquito and the faint scent of fuel tinged the air.
Now she understood why her mother used the rosary in airplanes. It was to keep your hands busy so you didn’t chew off all your fingernails in nervous terror. Noted. Next time Gina was on a seaplane, she’d bring a rosary.
For now, she prayed to the gods of reality TV.
Please, please, let him be a Winter Olympian.
A skier would be good, or a snowboarder, or better yet, a figure skater. Olympians were the holy grail of celebrity dance partners. If one of those awaited her when she landed, this whole harrowing journey would be worth it. After all, what other kind of celeb would be hanging out in the uncharted Alaskan wilderness?
When Gina finally dared to peek outside, she could admit the view was picturesque. A rippling ribbon of water unfurled below. Tall evergreens speared a brilliant blue sky crowded with puffy white clouds. A gust of wind teased the treetops, making the seaplane bounce in the air.
Gina clenched her jaw and looked away. Even the pretty scenery didn’t distract from the bouncing. Where the hell were they going? And if they were meeting a skier or snowboarder, shouldn’t there be more snow?
A tap on her arm drew her attention from the window to Jordy Cohen, her field producer. He was a slim man with olive-toned skin and a ready smile, and he covered his thinning brown hair with a worn UCLA cap. Jordy pointed at the camera, and his voice came through the headset she wore.
“All right, Gina. Ready to start?”
Taking a deep breath, she nodded and gave her shoulders a quick roll to relax them. Nerves notwithstanding, she had a job to do. When Jordy gave the go-ahead, she waved at the camera.
“I’m Gina Morales, a pro dancer. I’m on my way to meet my celebrity partner for season fourteen of The Dance Off.” She gave the intro in a loud, clear voice. Or so she thought.
The sound guy looked up from a device in his hand and shook his head.
After adjusting the mic on her headset, Gina repeated the lines at a volume closer to a shout. When she received a thumbs-up, she continued.
“We’re in a seaplane flying over a river in Alaska, and I’m a little worried my producers are trying to kill me.”
Next to her, Jordy covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. He gestured for her to keep going.
“I’ve been on three planes so far, each one smaller than the last.” She gave an exaggerated shrug and a grimace that wasn’t faked. “What’s next, a hot air balloon?”
Jordy smacked his forehead like he should have thought of that. Gina resisted the urge to flip him the bird.
The pilot cut in. “We’re beginning our descent.”
The plane dipped. Gina spun to face the window again, her pulse racing as the water zoomed closer. Were they going to make a water landing? They had to be. Despite climbing aboard at a marina, she hadn’t allowed herself to imagine the landing. With every second, the glistening surface of the inlet raced closer, but Gina kept her eyes open. She could do this. She was strong.
And if she died, at least she’d see it coming.
The pontoons hit the water, skimming along and kicking up a wave under the wings. Her stomach bounced, but she’d braced herself for a rougher landing. As the plane pulled alongside a small floating dock made of barrels, Gina pried her fingernails out of the seat cushion. She focused on getting her breathing under control while they disembarked. Once off the plane, they climbed into a waiting skiff and motored to shore. The air carried the scent of salt and wet soil, along with a crisp freshness she could taste on the back of her tongue.
Fresh air. What a novelty.
Once they were ashore, Gina and her crew gathered on a pebbly beach that led right into the water from a clearing. Ahead stood a line of trees the seaplane pilot had called Sitka spruce, the state tree of Alaska. Behind her, the water. Nothing else, aside from the seaplane, the skiff, and a second camera crew she didn’t recognize. No stores. No houses. No cars. Just trees, water, and dirt. And sky. Lots and lots of sky.
Too much nature. Not enough civilization. Was it possible to feel claustrophobic in a big empty space?
Gina hunched into her coat. “Where are we?”
Jordy didn’t look away from the tablet he shared with the other crew’s producer. “Alaska.”
“I know that, but…” Searching the unfamiliar crew’s clothing for logos revealed nothing. Gina pulled out her phone. No service. Of course not. Why would there be service in the middle of fucking nowhere?
Better not to think about how far away they were from the rest of the world. Except now it was all she could think about. What if there was an emergency?
Eyeing the trees warily, she inched toward the boat. Growing up in New York City had given her a healthy distrust of forests. Forests had animals and serial killers hiding behind every tree. Didn’t these people watch movies?
Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “You know I’m from the Bronx, right? I don’t do nature. I’ve never even been camping.”
Damn it. Gina bit her tongue as one of the cameras swung her way. It was the perfect sound bite and would without a doubt be aired during the premiere. This was exactly what they’d hoped for—drag her out to the wilderness, film her freaking out, then toss her at her partner before she could get her bearings. The producers would do everything they could to throw her off-balance in the name of good TV.
Gina took a deep breath, then another. The air chilled her lungs. It was colder here than it had been in Juneau, but so fresh she couldn’t stop swallowing it in deep, cold pulls. It helped focus her, but also made her giddy.
“You all right?” Jordy actually looked concerned.
“I’m fine.” Just having an existential crisis over the complete and utter remoteness of this location. No big deal. She shoved her hands in her coat pockets and balled them into fists. “Let’s go meet him.”
The crew checked her lavalier mic and gave her a minute to touch up her hair and makeup. After she fed a few more lines to the camera about how excited she was to meet her partner, they started the trek through the trees.
“Don’t break an ankle,” Jordy warned.
Gina pressed her lips together and didn’t reply. If she’d known where they were going, she would have worn different shoes. The soles of her shiny black boots were better suited to sidewalks than wet docks or dirt trails. They were already caked in mud and sand, which crunched under her feet with every step.
Jordy was right, though. It would be awful to get injured right before the new season started. With her eyes on the trail, curiosity about the man she was about to meet consumed her thoughts. What kind of a celebrity would he be? Would he be able to dance? And more importantly, was he popular enough to get lots of votes?
On Gina’s first season, her celebrity partner was a young singer who’d started his music career on social media. While he’d been a great dancer—if a little too energetic—with a vocal fan base, he didn’t have the recognition factor needed to win over The Dance Off’s older audience. They’d only made it halfway through the season. Nostalgia could help, too, but Gina’s partnership with an aging actor from a popular action movie franchise had ended after three episodes due to his arthritis.
Despite entering her fifth season, Gina didn’t have the fan following some of the other pro dancers did. Kevin Ray had been on the show since season one, and The Dance Off was now approaching season fourteen. Kevin had won four times. With his easy charm and incredible choreography skills, people voted for Kevin no matter who his celebrity partner was.
It made Gina want to pull her hair out. Kevin had reached the finals in season thirteen with a sixteen-year-old Internet makeup artist, while Gina and her partner—a popular football player who’d shown marked improvement—had been cut in the semifinals.
At least she wasn’t the newbie anymore—that spot went to Joel Clarke, a Jamaican dancer who’d joined the cast a month ago.
Since it couldn’t hurt, she sent up another prayer that her new partner would be up to the challenge. If he had even a modicum of dance skill and audience appeal, she’d do whatever it took to reach the finals and get a shot at The Dance Off’s gaudy golden trophy.
The trail ended in a large clearing with a two-story house made from planks of yellow lumber. A smaller house of dark, weathered wood sat to one side, and a hut made of … branches, maybe … sat on the other. A treehouse painted with a camouflage pattern perched in one of the tall trees.
Gina stared, taking it all in. What … the … fu …
This was … well, she didn’t know what this was exactly, but there was no way this collection of makeshift homes was the training camp of a Winter Olympian.
As her plans for an Olympics-themed first dance turned to dust, anger kindled in the ashes.
Damn her producers. They could have warned her. When Jordy said they were going to Alaska, Gina had dressed for a meeting at a ski lodge or an ice rink, or at least somewhere indoors. And they’d told her to do full hair and makeup. She was going to look ridiculous wearing false eyelashes to a rough Alaskan homestead.
Bye-bye, trophy.
“Reaction, Gina,” Jordy said.
There was no way she could say how disappointed she was. Instead, she took a deep breath and was assaulted by a medley of rich, earthy scents she couldn’t even begin to classify. Somehow, the natural aroma soothed her, and she found her voice.
“Wow.” It was the first word that popped into her mind. “This is like stepping into another time. I mean, look at these structures. And is that a treehouse?”
There. The editors could splice her words with shots of the buildings, if they chose. It was the best she could do under the circumstances.
A loud, rhythmic thudding came from behind the biggest house. Gina didn’t bother to ask what it was, as the other crew’s producer was now guiding her toward the noise.
Years of stage training kicked in, washing away her irritation. She grinned at the camera, infusing her voice with excitement. “I hear something over there. I think it’s him.”
As she turned the corner around the back porch and got her first look at her new partner, her pulse pounded in her throat and stole her breath. She blinked and spoke without thinking. “Is he … is he mine?”
Mine. She hadn’t meant to say that, didn’t want to examine the mixed emotions the word sparked.
“Yes,” Jordy said from behind her. “That’s your partner.”
Hot damn.
The bare-chested man chopping wood behind the main house was six-five if he was an inch, covered in rippling, bulging muscles and smooth, tanned skin. Obliques and delts flexed and released with each swing, highlighting his pure strength and perfect form. The rustic axe acted as an extension of his beautiful body and hit its mark every time.
He was the kind of man who’d look remarkable doing any activity, but he fit here, as if he’d sprung from the earth fully formed—and conjured by Gina’s wildest fantasies—for the express purpose of chopping wood.
She wanted to lick him just to make sure he was real.
Jordy gestured her forward to confront the magnificent wood-splitting specimen. The camera crews fanned out. Gina’s heart rate had yet to return to normal, and she seemed to have swallowed her own tongue, but she obligingly took a step.
A twig snapped under her boot.
The small crack stopped the man at the top of his swing. His head whipped around in her direction. As he straightened, the hand holding the axe fell to his side, and he scooped back his long dark blond hair with the other. Their gazes met, the bright blue of his eyes visible across the clearing.
Chest heaving, he swung the axe into the wood stump, leaving it embedded and quivering.
If Gina wasn’t careful, she’d start quivering, too.
A light brown beard covered the lower half of his face, amplifying his intense masculinity to a thrilling degree and making him look wild, unpredictable, and … delicious. The defined muscles of his torso made her mouth water. She swallowed hard.
Work. Cameras. Job.
Ignoring her thudding heart and warm cheeks, Gina marched toward him. Around them, camera operators shifted to capture every nuance of their first meeting—every word, every reaction, every sign of nerves.
Despite her calm expression, Gina’s mind whirled, connecting the dots as she approached her new partner.
First, her producers had made sure she was perfectly groomed and looking her best.
Following that, they’d thrown her off her game with an unsettling seaplane ride.
And now, they were surprising her with half-naked wood-chopping and so many muscles it bordered on rude.
Gina’s steps faltered as the truth hit her. Shit. She should have seen it right away, and would have if the first sight of him hadn’t short-circuited her thoughts.
This man would likely be the hottest guy in the cast, and Gina was young and single. It could only mean one thing.
They were being set up as this season’s showmance.
Copyright © 2017, 2023 by Alexis Daria
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