Natasha’s nerves jitterbugged under her skin when Dimitri pulled up in front of the gym.

“I’ll find a spot to park,” he said, and she shook her head quickly.

“No need.” She opened the door and climbed out, awkward because of the crutches. “Stay in the car. I’ll just run in and hand this over, and then I’ll be right back out, real quick.” She waved the folder she carried.

His eyebrows drew together like he knew something was up, but he didn’t say anything as she shut the car door and hobbled into the gym.

At least he hadn’t argued, or insisted on following her.

Natasha greeted the woman at the front desk, exchanged small talk about her ankle and the minor repairs made to the gym’s locker room, then crutched her way toward the classroom where she usually taught.

Before leaving the reception area, she checked over her shoulder once more. Dimitri hadn’t come in. Good. No matter what, he could not meet Renee. Renee would lead to all sorts of questions she wasn’t prepared to answer.

The classroom door was ajar, so Natasha stuck her head in. “Hello?”

Renee sat in the corner on a folding chair, typing on the laptop balanced on her knees. When she looked up, her face brightened. “Tash!”

Natasha eased into the room as Renee set the laptop aside and strolled over to her, navigating around the series of poles set into the floor. Even barefoot, in boy shorts and a camisole, with no makeup on and her wine red hair pulled into a ponytail, Renee walked like she was on a catwalk and every eye was on her.

Renee had tried to teach Natasha that trick, and Tash managed it during performances, but when she wasn’t thinking about it, she still walked with her feet turned out, like the ballerina she was.

Andas como una patita, her mother used to say. You walk like a little duck.

Renee gave Natasha a one-armed hug and took the folder from her. “How’s the ankle?”

“Better. Being extra careful with it.”

“Smart move. Serious problems can crop up from sprains.” Renee gestured toward the chair. “Here, you should sit down.”

“How’s everything going at the Planet?” Natasha asked once she was seated, using the affectionate nickname for their old workplace.

Renee settled down on the floor with her legs folded under her. “Same old. They renovated the dressing room and the bathrooms.”

“Good. They needed to. How’s everything going there?”

As Renee gave a quick rundown of the workplace gossip, Natasha gazed around at the poles and her earlier nerves transformed into unease.

Once, this had been her life. She’d been desperate then, and she was desperate now. In both cases, she’d entered into situations that forced her to lie to her friends and family. Hell, she’d still be lying to everyone about living with Dimitri if she hadn’t sprained her ankle.

Both times, she’d been broke and in desperate need of paid work. Dance work. Because it didn’t count if she wasn’t making a living off being a dancer.

In light of the things she’d done to stick to that goal, that argument was starting to seem more and more ridiculous.

Renee stretched out her long legs and leaned back on her elbows. Her enormous, round breasts strained the stretchy fabric of her turquoise top. “I told Jeff I was covering these classes for you. He says hi.”

Jeff, one of the nicest bosses Natasha had ever had. “Thanks. Tell him hi for me.”

“You could tell him yourself.” Renee rummaged in her purse and pulled out a postcard. “They finally let me produce the burlesque show I’ve been wanting to do for years. You should come by tonight. It’ll be fun.”

Natasha took the card and dropped it when Dimitri strode into the room.

“Where are we going tonight?” he asked, grinning at both of them. “Hi, I’m Dimitri.”

Coño. Why hadn’t he stayed in the car?

Renee sent him a sultry smile from the floor. It wasn’t meant for him, Natasha knew. It was the only way Renee knew how to smile.

Dimitri reached down to shake the hand Renee offered, then stooped to pick up the card.

“Are we going to a show tonight, Tash?” he asked.

“Um . . .” She glanced at Renee, who wore her usual unreadable, slightly amused expression. Full lips curved, bedroom eyes cold.

Natasha bit her lip, waiting for Dimitri to react. His brow creased as he read the card. “Babe Planet?”

“It’s the name of the venue,” Renee offered. “I’m doing a burlesque show tonight. You both should come.”

He flipped the card over and glanced at the back. “What do you say, Tasha?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, but she couldn’t read his expression either. Was he curious? Judgmental? Turned on?

She looked to Renee, who still wore her cat-with-cream smile. No help from that quarter.

Natasha’s fluttering nerves picked up the pace. As much as she wanted to yell “No!” and hustle Dimitri out of the room, something else was bubbling up inside her.

The urge to tell him the truth.

Sharing with him on the drive here had left her feeling lighter. She had so many secrets. She was unburdening them on him, one by one.

What was one more?

Besides, she didn’t want to hurt Renee’s feelings. And Renee was an excellent dancer.

“Sure, let’s go,” she said.

Dimitri turned to Renee. “Starts at nine?”

“Yes.” Renee took the hand Dimitri gave her and rose to her feet. After he helped Natasha up and she was balanced on the crutches, Renee leaned in and kissed Natasha on the cheek, leaving behind the scent of rosewater.

“See you later.” Another wink.

Dimitri led the way out of the room, winding around the poles, and making sure the door was open wide enough for Natasha to get through easily. Once they were in the hallway, she shot him a dark look.

“You were supposed to stay in the car.”

“I found a parking spot.” He lowered his voice. “What, I’m not allowed to take a piss?”

She huffed. “How did you even get in?”

“The lovely woman at the front desk is a fan.”

Sure enough, on the way out, the lady behind the desk grinned and waved. “Bye, Mr. Kovalenko!” she called out.

Dimitri sent her a charming smile, waved back, and opened the door for Natasha to exit the gym.

Natasha kept her mouth shut as they got in the car and back on the freeway. By some miracle, he hadn’t peppered her with questions yet, but he had to have figured it out. After meeting Renee, seeing that card, and . . . shit, had she ever said Renee was a former coworker?

As her mind searched for ways to lie or get out of telling him the whole story, her heart settled into a decision.

She would tell him. The truth. It was a secret she’d kept for years, but she wanted to talk about it with someone. No, more than that, she wanted to talk about it with him. Maybe he would understand. Maybe he wouldn’t judge her.

He wasn’t her mother.

When she’d first met him, she equated Esmeralda and Dimitri in her head, with her need for validation. If she couldn’t get it from her mother, maybe she could get it from him, the guy who expected the best and was notorious for withholding praise. Even when they started sleeping together, it was with that same kind of longing. If the guy who withheld commitment could give her a sign that this was more than just a fling . . .

He’d given her a sign. He’d said he loved her.

What if he meant it?

Her mother never said it. But Dimitri wasn’t her mother. Nothing like her, in fact. He was a natural caretaker, concerned about everyone around him. His family, his restaurant, her.

What if he did love her? What did that even mean? She had so little experience with it, she didn’t even know. Did he love having sex with her? Having her in his home? Her cooking? What were all the little things that added up the bigger emotion of love?

Her heart pointed the way to the people who loved her, and showed their love. It was a short list. Abuela. Gina. Maybe Kevin and Lori, in their own, friend-love way.

Abuela had been there for her until the day she died. She took care of her, made sure she was clean and fed, but more than that, she listened. She valued Natasha’s feelings, and gave her space to vent and explore them.

Dimitri did that. The night she’d broken down in his bathroom, he’d held her and listened.

And Gina. Gina had been taking care of her every step of the way since they’d met at fourteen years old. When Gina had applied for colleges and scholarships, she’d gotten extra copies and made sure Natasha filled them out, too. When they were in Los Angeles, Gina lined up auditions for both of them. It had never been a competition between them. Everything they did, they did together. Gina had never left her behind.

Even now, Gina had offered to pay her half of the rent until the lease was up. She hadn’t left Natasha in the lurch. But at the time, Natasha had stubbornly wanted to prove she could do it herself.

Who was she proving this to? Her mother? Gina? Herself?

If Gina had been here, she would have done everything Dimitri had done at the hospital. Badgered the doctors, taken notes on healing and recovery, and made a schedule for Natasha’s meds, ice packs, and physical therapy.

Dimitri had done all of that. He’d called her friends so she wouldn’t be alone. Picked up her glasses so she wouldn’t be stuck in contacts all day. Carried and drove her around.

What did it all mean? Was that love? Was that what it amounted to—listening and caring?

“You’re thinking a lot over there.”

She blinked, checking the signs out the window. They were almost home.

Home. Dimitri’s home.

She rubbed her eyes, suddenly dry and hot, and reached into her bag for eye drops. “Got a lot on my mind.”

He made a noise of assent in the back of his throat. “Anything you want to share?”

She used the eye drops as distraction, squeezing them into her eyes and wiping away the tear trails they made on her cheeks. A month ago, Dimitri would have demanded she tell him. Now, he asked her to share.

A month ago, she would have declined.

“Yeah, actually. I do. After we get home.”

Home. A hot flush crept over her skin. There was that word again.

“We’re almost there,” he said.

The heat spread. She had an idea.