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“Good to see you.” She smoothed her hand down the arm of her husband.
“I want to hear more about what you’ve been up to.” Vivien’s blue eyes pummeled him with an expectant glaze, penetrating and unrelenting.
“Working at a ranch.” Grayson shifted. At this point, everyone knew his sole income was the camp.
She pulled back the wrapper on a cupcake. “Besides work, silly.” She took a bite, using the tip of her finger to wipe the smudge of frosting from her lips. “How’s camp?”
He had the distinct impression Vivie was fishing.
“You know how it is. Church on Sunday. Work all week. Spend Saturday playing catch-up.”
Dylan lifted his tea glass to point at Grayson. Laughed. “He doesn’t have a life.” He handed the glass off to Marie and took his next croquet shot.
“Funny.” He tossed his balled-up napkin at Dylan, who didn’t have a free hand to catch it.
“Sensitive, are we?” Dylan waited for Eli to take his shot.
Okay, maybe it was a little, partly, half true.
Vivien set down her cupcake. “Oh, come on—Mr. Bachelor. You have to have some free time.”
Robin cleared her throat. “Grandma says you’re quite the two-stepper.” She’d fallen for Vivie’s bait.
Oh, thank you, sister. He cut her the hardest look he could muster.
“It’s true. She said you told her you’d won a dance contest at some radio station’s event at a fair.”
Oh brother. He should have known better than to tell Grandma that. But she’d badgered him for news. An update. Something about his life. He’d caved and told her about the contest he’d only entered to win concert tickets for Tim McGraw.
“I’d like to see him prove it,” Dylan said, a smirk twisting his lips. “This guy’s always had two left feet. But you did tell me about those places in Oregon—Cross-Eyed Cricket and Rowdy’s?”
Oh, he had to mention that.
“You’re denying it?” Robin challenged. “You can’t be a cowboy and not two-step.”
“That’s in the rules, isn’t it?” Vivien asked. She crossed her arms. “Let’s see some of that action. If it’s contest worthy, I’m sure you can teach us North Shore inhabitants a thing or two.”
“He can probably only line dance,” Dylan goaded him. “Or only knows the electric slide.” Dylan, Eli, and Marie had joined the group, their game of croquet over.
Robin grinned from her seat at the end of the table. “I will say, he did have some fancy footwork in high school. Could he have lost his touch, though?”
He wasn’t biting. “No way. This isnota dance party.” He held out his arms. “Not a contest.”
“We can make it one.” Vivien called to Beth, who was wrapping up leftovers at the buffet table. “Beth—come here.”
Beth turned from her work. “What’s up?” She walked over, holding a brownie in one hand and cup of punch in the other.
“Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning up?” Vivie asked.
“This was the last one left on that tray.” Beth turned the brownie in front of Vivien. “I had to help out.”
“Well,” Vivien said, “Grayson here’s going to show us his two-step. He needs a partner.”
“Uh…” Beth backed away. “My hands are full.” She shoved half her brownie into her mouth and covered her chewing with her cup. “And I’m eating.” The words came out muffled.
“Come on—it’ll be fun!” Vivien pried the food items from Beth’s grip and set them on the table. “They’ll be here when you get back.” She shoved Beth forward and snagged Boone’s hand. “Let’s dance, hon. Before I’m so pregnant I can’t move.”
Robin reached for Sammy’s hand and pulled him from the sidelines. “Come on, show us!”
