“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 arched 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.”