“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.