“Well, I hope we won’t upset your schedule too much, but...” A hint of mystery accompanied her mom’s smile. “We’ve arranged for a surprise activity tonight.”
Summer didn’t know what her parents had planned, but she’d bet her last dime it wouldn’t compare with the surprise activity she’d received last night.
* * *
“I DON’T WANT TO SQUARE DANCE. I don’t know how.”
Lucy’s whiny complaints had become so habitual, Summer often ignored them—like now.
When her parents announced at dinner they’d hired a square dance caller for the night, she’d wondered if they were both becoming senile at the same time. What were they thinking? Eight- and nine-year-old boys didn’t dance with girls. They would all spend the entire evening standing around looking at one another.
“Ms. Agnes said the man would teach us how.” It was Amanda who spoke. What a super kid. She had a great attitude about everything. If she ever had a daughter someday, Summer hoped she turned out like Amanda.
Summer looped a bright blue ponytail holder around the base of Lucy’s braid. “All done.” She gave the child a pat to send her on her way. “Anybody else need help?” She looked around. While all the other girls were busy changing clothes or fixing their hair, M&M sat quietly on her bed, taking it all in.
Summer felt in her pocket for another ponytail holder, and pulled out a pink metallic one. She held it up as enticement. “Want me to fix your hair, M&M?”
The little girl’s eyes went wide and she bobbed her head.
Summer stood back and regarded the brown locks, calling upon her one semester of cosmetology training. Not enough length for a braid or a ponytail. Hmm, but maybe... She swept the front and sides up and back into a high ponytail, but left the back down. Fussing a bit brought out some funky, little spikes in the front of the tail, which she sprayed to maintain the hold, while the back fluffed out nicely. The pink holder jazzed up the child’s mundane tan T-shirt and brown shorts, and Summer made a mental note to add tie-dying T-shirts to the activity list this week.
“Wow, you look cute!”
Was that Lucy talking? Summer could hardly believe her ears. M&M’s face flushed bright pink, which added to her adorable glow, while Summer rushed to give the other child positive reinforcement that might encourage recurrent behavior. “What a nice thing to say, Lucy.”
Too late. The corners of Lucy’s mouth had already settled in the downward position. Her upper teeth worried her bottom lip. “Ms. Summer, what if nobody asks me to dance?”
The room grew quiet, and Summer realized every little girl in the room was worried about that very thing. She remembered sitting at dances, waiting for somebody—anybody—to ask for a dance. And she realized this was an empowering moment.
“Well,” she spoke loud enough to be heard all around, “you don’t have to wait for someone to ask you. If you want to dance, there’s no law that says you can’t ask one of the boys to dance with you.”
“But what if he says no?” Though the voice was a tad whiny, Lucy’s question was asked in earnest.
“Then you can ask somebody else, maybe somebody who really looks like he wants to. Or ask me. I’ll dance with you.” Another thought occurred to her. “But while we’re talking about this, let’s listen to what our pretty hearts tell us. Would it hurt your feelings a little if you asked someone to dance and he said no?”
Lucy nodded.
“Yeah, I’d want to punch him.” Greta spoke up from across the room.
“We’re not going to punch anybody,” Summer warned, but pressed on to make her point. “But the boys here are all our friends, right?” She looked around at the nodding heads. “Soooo, if one of the boys asks you to dance—” which she doubted was ever going to happen “—what does your pretty heart tell you to do?”
“Say yes,” M&M answered quietly.
“That’s right. We should accept because we wouldn’t want anybody to hurt our feelings, and we don’t want to hurt anybody else’s feelings. These guys are our buddies. And remember that tomorrow night we vote on who gets this week’s special prize.” She smiled, remembering the lovely little wands her dad brought this afternoon. She looked around. Everybody seemed ready. “Okay, let’s go. Since this is a party, we won’t line up.”
When they exited the bunkhouse, a lively jig wafted from the dining hall, causing a ripple of anxious giggles to pass through the group. Strummed on a banjo, the catchy music had a strong beat that had some of the girls skipping and hopping in rhythm before they’d even taken a few steps.
Through the screens, Summer could see the boys sitting in chairs placed along the wall. The tables had been moved back to create a huge space in the middle of the dining floor.
As if on cue, as soon as the girls stepped inside, the boys rose from their chairs.
The move seemed like something straight out of the nineteenth century. Summer rolled her eyes and gave Rick a resigned shake of her head, which he answered with a smug grin. Trying to impress her parents, was he?
Well, this could be her chance to shine, too.
“Okay, ladies,” she said loud enough for her mom and dad to hear. “We’re in a public situation,” she continued, reminding them of the talk Tara had given. The girls looked at her and nodded, giggling softly. They found their way to chairs and sat down as demurely as could be expected of eight- and nine-year-olds.
The caller, an elderly man dressed in Western attire that included cowboy boots and a bolo tie, spoke into his microphone. “All right, you young whippersnappers,” he addressed the boys. “The ladies are here, so it’s time to kick up our heels. Go grab yourselves a partner and form two groups.”
A trace of anxiety tightened Summer’s chest, and she recognized it reflected on the tense faces of the girls. Who would be asked? Who would have to do her own asking? She wanted them to know it was okay either way. “Remember to listen to your pretty hearts,” she said in her fairy princess voice. “And it’s okay for you to ask, too.”
Some of the girls nodded. But before any of them could make a move, the boys, who’d all been looking at Rick, took a step forward in unison. Rick gave the order. “It’s time, men.”
Looking like soldiers going into their first battle, the troops marched across the open space. Although they had to shift positions as they got closer, each boy went directly to a specific girl. When they got there, they bowed, asked the girls to dance and held out their hands to escort their partners to the floor.
Summer watched, astonished and speechless. While one part of her completely rebelled at the forced nature of the act, it had been executed flawlessly, and the smiles on the girls’ faces were genuine with relief. The whole spectacle, obviously choreographed and rehearsed, could only have been the brainchild of one person.
Rick.
She turned to find him standing in front of her, blue-green eyes flashing in silent humor and something else that made her insides twirl in a different kind of rebellion. His wide smile showed white teeth that glowed against his tanned face, and at that moment, she decided he might be the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on...and he was asking her to dance.
He bowed elegantly. “Ms. Summer,” he drawled, “might I have the pleasure of this dance?”
When he held out his hand, her heart took on the pounding rhythm of the music. They were Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara in the flesh. “Well, fiddle-dee-dee, Mr. Warren.” She glanced coyly away and saw her mom and dad, Tara and Neil and Charlie and Ginny all making their way to the dance floor. “I thought you’d never ask.”
His large, warm hand enveloped hers, and her heart lost its steady rhythm, plunging into its own wild dance, taking her along for the ride like a loose roller coaster careening out of control.
They joined one of the groups, and the caller directed them to form two lines facing each other, men in one line, ladies in the other. Reluctantly, she let go of Rick’s hand to take her place, but his smoldering gaze held he
r across the small distance that separated them.
“Before we break into squares, we want to get everybody warmed up,” the caller explained. “We’re gonna start with the Virginia Reel.”
Summer decided he couldn’t have started with a more appropriate dance; her head was already reeling.
For the next two hours, she and Rick danced every dance. They held hands, held waists, locked arms, locked eyes, smiled, laughed and had the time of their lives.
Sometime during the first few do-si-dos, she lost herself. She was no longer Summer Delaney...or even the fairy princess.
She was Cinderella. And she was having a ball.
* * *
RICK WONDERED IF THERE WAS more to the fairy princess thing than met the eye. Magic? Maybe. He certainly felt like he was under some kind of spell.
The square dance had been fun, although being so near Summer and not being able to kiss her again had been torture. Even now, he could smell her faint perfume where she’d brushed so often against his shirt and just the scent was conjuring images in his mind that had nothing to do with dancing—unless it was the kind that happened between the sheets.
He glanced out the window again. Yeah, Agnes and Herschel were still visiting at her cabin.
His meeting with them while everyone was getting ready for the dance had gone well. The notes he’d taken so far pleased them, but he promised to get measurements and make scaled sketches of all the buildings. Agnes especially liked his mom’s idea of painting and adding flowers. Herschel wasn’t as enthused, seeing it as an unnecessary expense, even when Rick volunteered his time. But they both seemed genuinely interested in his mom’s opinion that they could make a profit if they could catch the real-estate market at the right time.
Herschel was uneasy about what Summer’s reaction would be to such news, but Rick assured him, based on conversations he’d had with her, Summer’s top priority was their well-being. Her dad wasn’t so sure. He continued to insist they needed to stay mum on the selling option until they’d made a decision. And Rick continued to remind himself that what they did with their property was their business, and he certainly didn’t want to get involved with their family matters. If he could only give them a glimpse of the woman, Summer, whom he was getting to know.
“Summer’s got a good head on her shoulders,” he assured them.
“Sometimes,” Agnes answered.
“And sometimes, you can’t tell her anything. You have to just stand back and let her flounder in her own mire.”
Herschel’s face had reddened when he made that remark, and Rick had chosen to let the conversation die there.
Now, he jerked the T-shirt over his head in frustration, taking one last whiff before tossing it into his duffel of dirty laundry. He’d hoped for some one-on-one time with the wild child tonight. Had counted on it all day long.
Although another kiss—or two or three—admittedly had been part of the Summer scenarios playing on a continuous loop in his mind, mostly he wanted to talk, wanted to get to know this woman who was capturing his...thoughts.
He jumped into the shower and scrubbed away the last of the pleasant scent, and then doused himself with a hard spray of icy water for good measure.
As he turned off the water, the sound he’d been waiting for echoed in his ears—car tires crunching down the gravel road. The Delaneys were leaving.
He scrambled to get dressed, grabbed the other things he’d laid out and made a beeline for Summer’s cabin, undeterred even though he watched her lights blink out when he was a few yards from her door.
He leaped up on the porch and knocked quietly, waiting breathlessly until he heard her soft approach on the other side.
The door swung open, bringing a fresh breeze of the Summer scent he’d worked so hard to rid himself of just moments ago. He breathed it in, and felt the magic bringing his body to life again.
“Rick.” Her tone sounded surprised...and maybe a little relieved. “I was afraid you weren’t coming tonight.” The teasing lilt of her voice emphasized the open look of pleasure glinting from her eyes in the moonlight.
He let out the breath he’d been holding and held up the towel in his hand. “Want to go for a moonlight swim?”
CHAPTER TEN
SUMMER HURRIED TO CHANGE INTO her swimsuit and work her hair into a braid. She wasn’t sure if she was hurrying because of excitement, nerves or fear Rick would change his mind. After all, if she was Cinderella, this magic would end in an hour and thirty-seven minutes.
Rick stood up as she came back into the front room. “Ready?”
Her body’s response confirmed she was indeed ready—for much more than a swim in the moonlight.
“Not quite.” She held his gaze as she made a pass around the couch and came to stand in front of him. “If you don’t kiss me again pretty soon, I think I might scream.”
Desire was evident in Rick’s eyes as he leaned close. “Well, we wouldn’t want to wake the kids.” He leaned closer.
In an English lit class, she once heard that the most blissful moments in life occurred the split second before being touched by someone we care for. If all those moments were totaled, they would only add up to approximately seven minutes out of an entire lifetime. The people depicted in Keats’s “Ode on a Grecian Urn” were fortunate to have been captured in that moment forever.
She closed her eyes in anticipation, wishing this moment, with the warmth of Rick’s breath on her lips and the sound of it in her ears and her heart threatening to gallop away, could be captured forever.
His mouth brushed against hers in just a whisper of a touch that caused her breath to stutter in her chest. She inched closer as his fingertips feathered up her arms, and the pressure of his lips increased ever so slightly. Her arms slid around his waist as his hands moved up to cup the sides of her face. The strength in the muscles she could feel beneath her palms was such a contrast to his soft and tender caress, an urgent need to respond to both tugged and coiled inside her. He captured her whimper with a delicate sweep of his tongue before he broke away.
When she opened her eyes, he was still holding her face close to his. The heat in his gaze zinged through her, down to her toes. “Now, you have to promise not to scream before I can let you go.”
Faced with such a compelling decision, her brain whirred, trying to decide on the best course of action. Finally, she smiled. “Then I think I want to scream, but I’m too weak.”
He laughed and gave her another quick kiss before he loosened his grip.
They were leaving her cabin when Kenny came strolling along the path from the dining hall on his nightly rounds.
“We’re going for a swim, Kenny.” Rick held up the towel as apparent proof of their intentions.
A sarcastic chuckle pierced the air as Kenny passed them. “Call it whatever you want. You’re on your own time.”
Rick’s hand reached for hers as they wandered down the path to the beach, and she relinquished it gladly. This entire night had been a reminder of how romantic holding hands could be.
“So, you’ve been practicing some fairy princess magic on the sly, haven’t you?” She punched a playful elbow to his ribs.
“Me?” The trees along the path obscured the light enough that she couldn’t see his eyes.
“How else can you explain ten eight- and nine-year-old boys asking ten girls to dance and not a complainer in the bunch?” For hours, she’d been wondering how he’d accomplished such a feat. Now another possibility came to her. “Or did you threaten them with some especially heinous KP duty?”
He waved his hand nonchalantly. “Oh, that? That didn’t take a threat or magic. That took good old-fashioned bribery.” He grinned, and she could see the line of his white teeth break across his shadowed face. “Did I mention that Charlie’s rounding up some hand-crank freezers for homemade ice cream tomorrow night?”
“Food! I should have known.” When they laughed together, he squeezed her hand, and the butterflies materialized in
her stomach again and took flight.
For several nights, the moon had been approaching full. As they broke through the stand of trees and onto the beach, the sight stopped them in their tracks.
A full moon floated in a cloudless sky above them. Its reflection cut a swath across the cove directly in front of them.
Without hesitation, they ran hand in hand, plunging headlong into the moon glade.
* * *
RICK WAS IMPRESSED WITH THE way Summer kept up to him. He was a stronger swimmer and didn’t give it his all, but she didn’t lag too far behind.
Kentucky Lake’s temperature had reached bathwater stage, perfect for night swims. They swam across the cove and back.
“Want to go again?” he asked.
“No way. Gotta rest.” Hard breathing cut the ends of her words. He tried not to focus on the way the sound excited him or how the lake surrounding him warmed even more because of it.
He reached shallow water first and waded over to wait for her, offering his hand to help her up. With one arm, he lifted her to a standing position, then kept it around her for support—and because it felt so damn good to have it there. He could feel her muscles quivering with fatigue as they stumbled to the towels they’d dropped. She plopped down on the towel he’d spread out while he fetched a couple of the life jackets to use as pillows.
When he stretched out beside her, she rolled over on her stomach and tucked her hands under the life preserver, turning her face toward him. She closed her eyes dreamily. “If I weren’t so excited, I think I could sleep right here.”
“Why are you excited?” He needed to hear her say it.
“Tonight with the dancing. Being here in the moonlight.” She paused and opened her eyes. “You.”
Had a word ever sounded so sexy before? Breathy and hot and... His wet swimsuit molded to him, making an embarrassing spectacle of the word’s effect. He started to roll onto his stomach, but Summer’s knuckles brushed his arm. He remained on his side, enjoying her touch and what it was doing to him.
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