She grinned and tilted her head. “Thanks. Shall we go?”
“I think I’m the one who needs to say thanks,” Hunter muttered as she took her handbag and exited the house. “But yeah, let’s go.”
They drove down to the pavilion, and Mal was enchanted by the changes they’d made for the evening. The entire pavilion was now hung with basic light bulbs that gave the perfect aura to the place and fit in so well with the music coming from the band on risers, who had multicolored lights around their backdrop. And they were good—not in an amateurish way, but a real could-be-recording-artists way. She said as much to Hunter as they approached, and he shrugged with a smile.
“We attract all sorts here,” he said in an offhand way. “Just wait till you hear their vocalists.”
He squeezed her hand and smiled. Mal felt his excitement and matched it with her own.
Most of the people there were old, but not all of them, and they all seemed to know each other. When Hunter and Mal entered the pavilion, everyone called out to Hunter in excitement, and he grinned openly and waved to a few of them.
Mal watched with fascination as he greeted every single one of them by name, asked after kids or other acquaintances, and held light, joking conversations with back slaps and high fives.
He was an entirely new person.
But somehow, it was still him.
This was the version of him that Mal had come to know in their private moments—this easy, warm man with no airs or distance. His quick smile and quicker laugh was a hit, and he was truly adored by his guests.
And he wasn’t leaving her out of it.
He introduced her to everyone he talked to, holding her hand or wrapping an arm around her waist, keeping her close and leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind, least of all hers, as to where his head was. She earned herself some gentle ribbing from some of the older men, and they were ecstatic when she played along.
Hunter disappeared for a moment when someone needed to discuss a problem at their rented house, and Mal found herself leaning on the railing of the pavilion, looking out at the lake under the light of the moon. It was one of the most surreal moments of this trip, with the band playing smooth, emotional jazz behind her.
Could anything on earth be more perfect than this?
“Darlin’, gimme five minutes to get my car, and I’ll take you away from here,” rasped an older voice near her.
She turned with a raised brow to the old man now leaning beside her, his smoking jacket, no doubt once well fitted, hanging on him like a sack. But his eyes twinkled and the hint of cigar on his breath reminded her of her grandfather.
“Where’ll we go?” she asked, leaning closer.
He wheezed a laugh and gave her a wink. “Saucy girl. I like you.”
“Arlo, leave the girl alone, will ya?” cawed another male voice. “Honestly, your wife is right over there; show some respect.”
Arlo gave the newcomer a look. “Don’t get involved, Richie. You haven’t had a broad since the seventies. You wouldn’t know what to do.”
“You can’t call them broads anymore,” Richie scolded as he came to Mal’s other side. “It’s disrespectful.” He shook his head and looked at Mal. “I apologize for my friend’s rudeness, miss. His wife doesn’t let him out much.”
Mal grinned, looking between the two of them. “How long have you two known each other?”
Arlo chuckled and looked at the taller man for a moment. “Fifty years?”
“Near enough,” Richie said with a nod, folding his long arms over his sweater vest. “My Ann and his wife were girlfriends from school, and we all met here by accident one year. After that, the girls did just about everything together, so Arlo and I had to get along—or else.” He made a slashing motion across his throat.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Arlo assured her with a smile. “Ann was too soft-hearted to threaten anything in the world.”
Richie smiled and sighed. “Yeah, she was one of a kind, my girl. And she could dance like an angel.” He looked at Mal with a quirk of one furry brow. “Can you dance?”
“Only with me,” Hunter said as he appeared as if by magic. He clamped a hand on Richie’s shoulder, smiling. “You should know better, Richie. You want to dance with a pretty girl? I think Mrs. Howard could use a dance.”
“Judith?” Richie said with interest, looking across the dance floor. He suddenly straightened his bow tie. “Excuse me.”
That drew chuckles from the rest of them, and as a new song started up, Arlo patted Hunter on the back. “Enjoy your dance, Hunter. Hang onto this one, eh?”
Hunter smiled and met Mal’s eyes. “I intend to.”