“When did you learn to swim?” she wondered out loud. Chey, Tory, and Wyatt had a broader than average set of skills from their unique life, but swimming was not one of them. Not for Wyatt at any rate. Indeed, Chey knew for a fact he hadn’t known how to swim. Not when they were kids, at any rate. They’d been thirteen and fourteen the summer they’d found a rope swing over a lake outside a town where the rodeo caravan had parked for a weeklong stay. It had been a sticky hot August in Oklahoma and that cool, serene surface had beckoned them like the promise of nirvana.
She and Tory hadn’t wasted a second making good use of that knotted length of heavy rope. Wyatt had hung back, making lame excuses about having forgotten he had something to do. Cody had been the one who’d finally gotten Wyatt to confide that he couldn’t swim. Cody had offered to teach him, but Wyatt had opted out. Chey always suspected it had something to do with his father, though even so, she couldn’t imagine what he had against swimming.
“Clearly that’s changed.” She was unable to look away as she watched him cleave through the choppy, windswept surface with the grace and speed of an Olympic swimmer. The rope was still looped over his head and shoulder, held against his chest and back by the force of the speed with which he was cutting across the lake. The water had to be pretty damn cold. They’d had some warm days, but the nights were still brisk.
Chey tried and failed not to notice his arms. As a teenager, Wyatt had sported lean, ropy muscles at best. Now they were sleek, and full and cut, like a man who used his body—all parts of it—to get through his day-to-day existence. And don’t get her started on his shoulders. Or his back. Jesus, Wyatt. What in the hell have you been doing?
He pulled up next to the boat and treaded water, tossing his wet hair back as he gestured with one hand, apparently giving directions to Vivi. Even from the dock, Chey could see Vivi’s delight in the sudden change in her circumstances. Chey found herself smiling, despite her annoyance. She didn’t even know why she was annoyed. Wyatt had gone the extra mile and then some for a woman he didn’t even know.
She watched as he made quick work of tying the loose end of the rope through the loop on the front end of the small flat boat. He hung the rest of the rope over the prow, then took off across the lake behind the boat. Chey frowned, confused, until she saw him lift a paddle from where it had floated away. He headed back to the boat, stowed it flat over the two bench seats, then took off again in a different direction, presumably after the other one.
Wyatt motioned Vivi to scoot to the center of the bench and stowed the second oar across the benches on that side, all without getting Vivi’s somewhat insane—to Chey’s eyes—outfit even the least bit damp. What on earth was Vivi doing out there, and in that getup?
Chey and Vivi watched, with varying degrees of delight—okay, the delight was pretty much all Vivi’s—as Wyatt began to swim back to the dock, towing the boat behind him with the rope.
As the boat neared, Chey noted that the fringed, lemon-yellow parasol looked right at home with Vivi’s lavender-streaked, upswept do, complete with ringlets framing her face. The boat was still a distance away, but Chey assumed Vivi’s makeup would be stage-perfect, and possibly as over the top as the abundantly lacy, poufy-sleeved ivory blouse she had on. She must have made that herself, Chey thought. No self-respecting boutique in Blue Hollow Falls—heck, all of Virginia—carried something like that. Vivi looked as if she was getting ready to audition for Mary Poppins Meets Oklahoma: the Musical. Chey didn’t even want to know what was going on with the getup from the waist down. From the boat to the outfit, to the fringed parasol, the whole situation was bizarre. Vivi was theatrical, but even for her, this was a bit much.
Chey went to the end of the dock and knelt down just in time to catch the end of the rope when Wyatt tossed it to her. She pulled the small flat-bottom boat the rest of the way in and tied it off. Wyatt climbed the short wooden ladder affixed to the side of the dock and immediately went to grab his shirt. She could see the gooseflesh on his skin. “Why would you go shirtless? It’s freezing in there.”
“This wasn’t going to keep me any warmer in the water,” he said as he tugged the shirt back on. “I figured it would do better warming me back up when I was done.”
She almost commented on the fact that he’d left his pants on, then immediately thought better of that. “I’ve got blankets in the work box in the back of my truck,” she told him. “If I’d known you were going to go all Tarzan on us, I’d have brought one along.”
“Thanks,” he told her, his tone and smile both on the wry side.
Chey couldn’t help but notice how his shirt clung to his damp skin as he knelt down and helped her position the boat next to the ladder. How was it possible that this look was even sexier than his bare chest had been?
Wyatt climbed down a rung and offered his hand to Vivi. “Your three-hour tour has concluded, Mrs. Howell,” Wyatt said, and Chey snorted a laugh at the Gilligan’s Island reference.
“Why, thank you, kind sir,” Vivi said, beaming as if she’d just taken a bow for her second curtain call. “However, I believe I would be closer to a Ginger, don’t you think?” She closed her parasol and handed it up to Chey.
“Indeed,” Wyatt said. “Now that you’re not hiding behind that parasol, the resemblance is striking.”
Vivi giggled like a schoolgirl and allowed him to help her up the ladder. Once she was standing steadily on the dock, in the laced-up, heeled boots she apparently thought made great boat shoes, Vivi was almost as tall as Wyatt. And though her figure might be a tad more matronly than it once was, she still carried herself with the elegant bearing of the dancer she’d been.
Eat your heart out, Ginger, Chey thought with a smile.
Vivi took her parasol back and carefully opened it once more. “I love that the sun has returned,” she said, then added in a teasing tone, “but we fashion models can never be too careful about protecting our fair skin.”
“It appears you were a front-runner in figuring that out if your luminous beauty is anything to judge by,” Wyatt rejoined without missing a beat.
Chey rolled her eyes even as Vivi laughed gaily. “Well,” she said, taking in her rescuer with a bold once-over. “I could say the sun looks quite good on you.”
It was only then Chey recalled that Wyatt had been rather tan all over. She abruptly turned and started toward the shore, because that’s what it took to keep her from checking out the waistband of his pants to find out if she was right about assuming there was no tan line. Tarzan, indeed.
“Are you going to stroll off and not introduce us properly?” Vivi called out, her tone filled with humor rather than chiding. As if she knew. Of course she did.
Chey turned and walked a few steps back. “Of course. I’m sorry. I thought you’d taken care of that boat-side. I was going to grab that blanket.” And cover up the eye candy.
Vivi’s eyes danced with mirth and Chey knew she hadn’t been fooling anyone. Chey’s mouth kicked up at the corners, because at some point you just had to own it and roll with it. “Wyatt, please meet my partner in farming and one of the dearest people in the world to me, Vivienne Baudin.”
Vivi’s expression melted, filling with love and affection. She lifted her fingertips to her still perfectly painted lips and sent an air kiss in Chey’s direction, then turned and extended that hand to Wyatt, palm facing downward, fingers curled just so, of course. Chey was only surprised Vivi wasn’t wearing white gloves, given the rest of the getup. Probably couldn’t get them to fit over all those rings, she thought, but not unkindly. Vivi was a living, breathing force of nature. With all her flamboyance, she was the opposite of Chey at every turn, and Chey wouldn’t have her dear friend any other way.
“Vivienne Baudin, formerly of New Orleans via Broadway,” Vivi said to Wyatt, commanding the dock as if it were a stage. Everything for Vivi was a stage, if she wanted it to be. “And who you would be, my dear Good Samaritan?”
“This is Wyatt Reed,” Ch
ey said, before Wyatt could respond. “We knew each other growing up. He was on the circuit with Cody and me. Oh, and Tory has also arrived today. Surprise,” she added faintly.
Vivi’s smile grew wider still as she looked from Wyatt to Chey, then back to Wyatt. “Sounds like a veritable rodeo reunion back at the farm.”
Chey had talked with her three partners about the offer she’d made to Tory. They’d all been enthusiastic about meeting her childhood friend and giving Tory a chance to find her place in Blue Hollow Falls. Chey knew part of their excitement was due to her being the least chatty of the bunch when it had come to sharing stories of their past lives. It wasn’t that she’d had anything to hide. The truth of it was, actually, that the reason she hadn’t offered up her share of anecdotes was because they all featured the man presently standing on the dock next to her.
A look in Wyatt’s direction caught him glancing at her at the same time. Their gazes held there for a second, and she swore he read her mind, or at least her reluctance. A slight dip of the chin and a brief, reassuring smile made it clear that her secrets, at least as they pertained to him—to them—were safe.
It was those moments, that sudden yet seemingly effortless return to the connection they’d once shared, that disconcerted her the most. It took nothing more than a glance, a look, to communicate volumes. She didn’t like feeling shaken, but she couldn’t seem to find level ground around him. She knew she should just accept Wyatt’s presence as another thing happening, like Tory showing up early.
Except this wasn’t at all like Tory showing up early. This was Wyatt. She wasn’t ready for that. For him. For all the things she’d felt back then . . . and didn’t want to feel now.
A glance back at Vivi showed the older woman studying the two of them openly, which was pure Vivi. She was wonderfully colorful, bold, and direct, and took care of those she called her own. If Chey knew her, and she did, Vivi had already surmised that there was a good deal of history between Chey and Wyatt. What Vivi planned to do about that was what worried Chey. Vivi’s heart was always in the right place, but Chey wasn’t sure she wanted to be her next fix-it project. She and Wyatt didn’t need fixing. He’d be gone soon enough.
“A real pleasure to meet you,” Wyatt said, taking Vivi’s hand and lifting it for a quick kiss to those delicately curled fingers.
Vivi put on a bit of a swoon—maybe only partly a put-on—then glanced at Chey. “If this is what rodeo life was like, you’ve been holding out on us, darling.”
Chey laughed at that. “Oh, cowboys can be charming, no doubt about it.” She left it at that and turned to Wyatt. “You have to be freezing. The box in the back of my truck is unlocked if you want to go grab that blanket.” She tossed him the keys, which he snagged easily. “Why don’t you go ahead and get in the cab and get warm. I’ll see Vivi to her car and meet you back there.”
Wyatt took his cue and swept a quick bow in Vivi’s direction. “Glad to be of service, Miss Ginger. It was a pleasure meeting you.” He nodded to the boat, then winked at her. “Next time, use the oarlocks.”
“And miss out on another fine rescue?” Vivi smiled. “But have no fear, there won’t be a next time.” She smoothed the ringlets that framed her cheeks, despite the fact that even the breeze coming across the water hadn’t so much as lifted a single hair on her well-coiffed head. “It was poor judgment on my part that I came out here at all. That’s on me. I learned long ago to avoid making the same mistake twice.” Her quick smile was dazzling as she shot a wink right back at him. “Gives me more time to make new ones, don’t you know.”
Chey was struck once again by how beautiful a woman Vivi truly was. She’d seen black and white photos of Vivi at the height of her Broadway showgirl days, but even they paled in comparison to the live, in color version standing before her now, no matter the decades that had passed.
“Why did you come out here?” Chey asked her. She’d intended to wait for the two of them to be alone to get the full story, but the question was out before she could put it on pause. “You suddenly wanted to go boating? All by yourself?” Chey didn’t really take the outfit into consideration. It was over the top, even by Vivi standards, but the woman didn’t so much as brew tea in the morning without “putting her face on” as she called it. “And how in the world did you get the boat out here? The road to the ramp is closed.”
“Well, I don’t think she got all gussied up to go boating by herself,” Wyatt pointed out, sending another wink to Vivi.
Chey noted that Vivi’s cheeks turned a bit pink at that. Blushing? Seen-it-all, done-even-more Vivi? At least Chey wasn’t the only one being affected by new-and-improved-Wyatt. The old one had turned her head quite well as it was.
“And seeing as this is none of my business,” Wyatt added, “I’ll head to the truck and take you up on the offer of that blanket and some heat.” He’d already pulled on his boots.
“I try not to be a foolish old woman,” Vivi said, all her colorful airs aside now. “But admittedly I was one today.”
Chey found herself glancing again at Wyatt, who was glancing at her. Again. It was how they used to be, when talking to someone, silently communicating to each other while letting the other person say their piece. Instead of looking away, his lips twitched up at the corners, an admission that he recognized what they’d done, too. Out of habit.
Surely habits had an expiration date, Chey thought stubbornly. And yet, here the two of you are, staring at each other.
Chey pointedly turned back to Vivi, who hadn’t missed the interplay. “I’m sure whatever prompted your outing, you had nothing but the best intentions,” Chey said in sincere support, and because it was undoubtedly true.
Vivi snorted at that. “I don’t think Paul Hammond would share the lofty opinion you have of me.” Her smile spread to a grin, and a devilish twinkle sparked in her eyes. “At least not until he dries out a bit.”
Chey immediately looked right back at Wyatt, brows lifted, then jerked her gaze directly back to Vivi, her frown self-directed. “Paul Hammond? As in the guy who owns a good part of Blue Hollow Falls? Why would you have a meeting with him out here? On a boat? You’re not a boat person. A yacht person, maybe. I’m guessing it was his then?”
At least that explained how the boat had gotten down to the water. Hammond had enough money that he could have airlifted the thing in if he’d wanted to. More likely, he had a key to the padlock on the security gate blocking the road to the boat ramp. He was known to stay in close contact with the town officials and often golfed with the mayor. Chey had never met him, but the rumor was he liked to grease the wheels to expedite whatever his latest project was.
“I don’t think it was a meeting,” Wyatt offered quietly, with a smile of support directed at Vivi. “So much as a . . . social engagement.”
Chey’s mouth opened, then closed again, as she tried to process that possibility. The only person less likely to go on a date than herself was Vivienne. The older woman had made it abundantly clear from the time the four of them had met, more than a half dozen years ago now, that she’d had her share of true love and had tired of the company of the opposite sex. The man she’d loved for the better part of her life had bequeathed her the very farm they all lived and worked on.
Chey, along with Hannah and Avery, thought it was losing Harold that had ended Vivi’s willingness to put her heart up for grabs again. Coming to terms with that loss was what had sent her to the grief counseling meeting that fateful afternoon when the four of them had first met.
Chey didn’t want to examine too closely the reason why her own heart hadn’t been in play for, oh, a dozen years or so, so she focused on Vivi. “So, a date?” she asked, her curiosity sincere. “I didn’t even know you were thinking about that.”
“I guess we don’t share all of our nooks and crannies with each other,” Vivi said with a smile directed at Chey. Vivi never bothered with being subtle. Her gaze shifted to Wyatt, then back to Chey, one perfectly penciled brow arch
ed for emphasis.
Now it was Chey’s turn to feel a bit of warmth in her cheeks. “That was my former life,” Chey said. “This is happening now. I’m sure we all have stories we haven’t shared.”
“None of the big ones, I’d wager,” Vivi said, not having to look at Wyatt this time.
Chey didn’t bother trying to defend her omission or pretend that Wyatt wasn’t a big story from her past. But he was from the past. Vivi dating again was very much a story set in the present. “How did you and Paul Hammond come about?”
Vivi lifted a shoulder in an elegant shrug, something only she could pull off with the profusion of pouf and frill she was sporting. “I honestly wasn’t thinking about dating,” she said. “I’m still not. We were both at that joint meeting Mayor Fielding held with the town council and the chamber of commerce.” She smiled. “We were arguing about a proposal on how to grow the town revenue. I was arguing that we needed to find a way to honor the land, and not just build more things . . . and Paul asked me out here to see the lake, to prove a point. I demurred, because I really didn’t want to sit in the middle of a lake with the sun refracting off the water and onto my skin. He upped the ante until it somehow turned into a champagne picnic lunch, and I thought, why not? Worst case, it’s a nice diversion for an afternoon.” She laughed at that. “I did get that part right. It was indeed diverting.”
“And . . . the outfit?” Chey asked. “Was that like, part of a dare?”
“Oh hush,” Vivi said, but the mischief in her eyes spoke the truth of it. “Okay,” she relented when faced with Chey’s patient gaze. “He might have made a few less than kind comments as to my, shall we say, flamboyant style. So I thought I might goad him a little by showing up for our ‘date’ in full stage regalia.” She laughed. “Honestly, I didn’t view it as a date so much as a comeuppance. He can be charming, but at core, he’s not a pleasant man.”
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