Page 42 of Flirty Dancing

Archer looked down the path, and there was Eileen, on her little front porch waving a scarf at them. Yellow, this time.

“Hello!” she called again, her smile growing the closer they got. “Thank you so much for coming!” she cried as they reached the path up to her door. She hopped down the steps and wrapped Archer in a hug.

“Hi, Ms. Lamb,” Archer said, surprised at her wiry strength. Once he had his limbs back, he turned to Mateo. “Mateo, may I introduce you to Ms. Eileen Lamb?”

“Hello, Ms. Lamb,” Mateo said smoothly, shaking her hand. “Thank you so much for having us. That’s very kind of you.”

“You’re so welcome, and it issucha pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dixon. Please, please, come in.” She ushered them up the steps and herded them into her cabin. It was one of the smallest guest cabins available, one bedroom and acombined seating area and kitchen, but other than that it bore absolutely no resemblance to the rest of the cabins. Almost every surface was covered with flowers or floral prints—curtains, throws, cushions, rugs—plus actual vases containing flowers, and pictures of flowers, and figurines of flowers. A lot of flowers.

Archer and Mateo stood in the doorway gaping as Eileen hurried over to the kitchen to grab the whistling kettle off the stove.

“Wow!” Archer exclaimed, eyes still jumping around, unable to focus on one particular bloom. “How did you… pack all this in here?”

“Oh!” Eileen laughed. “My flowers? Yes, I have a storage unit nearby and my assistant arranges it all for me before I arrive. I like to feel at home when I’m here. And really, it is my home for the summer.”

“I like the…” Mateo’s eyes drifted, too. “The bouquet of violets.”

Eileen beamed as she poured the water into the teapot covered in pink roses. “I picked those myself on a walk this morning. Now…” She put the kettle down and waved at the couch draped with lavender throws and cushions. “Please, won’t you have a seat?”

“Can I help with anything?” Archer asked, noting the rather massive three-tiered serving stand of tiny triangle sandwiches and mini scones on the counter.

“Not at all!” Eileen sang, staggering over with the thing and setting it on the coffee table. “I made these scones this morning myself, for you two.”

“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble!” Archer said, eyeing the piles of treats.

“Hmm…” She scooted back to the kitchen. “I have to admit, I do have a bit of an ulterior motive.”

“You do?” Archer asked, sharing a glance with Mateo.

Eileen paused to pick up the heavily laden serving tray.

“Um…” Archer hopped up and took the shaking tray from her. “Please, let me.”

“Thank you, dear.” Eileen watched Archer fondly as he set it down next to the stand. “I’ll pour, shall I? Please, help yourselves to the food.”

Archer passed a dainty plate to Mateo and took one for himself before choosing two egg salad sandwich triangles and a blueberry scone. Mateo took the same for his plate.

“How do you two take your tea?” she asked.

“A bit of cream and sugar for me, please,” Archer asked.

“Same for me,” Mateo said.

Eileen poured and stirred and handed out their matching cups and saucers.

The first bite of the egg salad was mouthwatering, and Archer was about to devour the rest of it in one bite when Eileen set her saucer down.

“I have to tell you,” she said, folding her hands together. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you on stage, Mr. Dixon.”

“Oh?” Mateo said, scone halfway to his mouth. “And please, call me Mateo.”

“Certainly, Mateo.”

“You recognized me, you mean?”

She beamed, reaching for the shelf under the coffee table, and pulled up a Playbill. “I sawRobin’s Eggtwelve times. You were an absolute marvel.”

Archer froze. Oh God. What had he walked Mateo into?

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