Besides the hustle, that is. Mateo was in a very loose black tank top and black tights, chest rippling and glistening with sweat. Archer’s gaze lingered on the perfectly sculpted arms and shoulders. He had only a vague impression of Mateo’s partner, a shapely redhead spinning in front of him.

“Dude,” Ben or Beau murmured at him. “You’re staring.”

“That’s Mateo Dixon,” he stammered in reply, as if that explained everything.

“Who?” said Ben or Beau.

“Oh, I think I’ve heard of him,” Beau or Ben interjected. “He was the lead in Robin’s Egg, wasn’t he, when it took off?”

“Yup.” Archer swallowed and nodded, eyes still not leaving Mateo as he lifted his partner and spun her around on his shoulder like it was nothing.

“What’s he doing here?” Beau or Ben wondered.

“I don’t know…” Archer trailed off, realizing he was about to spend the summer dancing with Mateo Dixon. Except no, this was a mistake. Surely, he was just visiting? Choreographing? There was no way he was actually in the show?

Right. Show. Archer tore his eyes off Mateo and tried to take in the choreo. The blond slip from the callback was there already, following along by herself at the back. Now that Archer wasn’t a ball of audition nerves, he realized she was a cutie pie with a little button nose and a dusting of freckles over her fair skin. She must have made the trip to Shady Queens right away when they got selected.

But Archer’s attention went back to Mateo. His face was stern, eyes dark. He kept his gaze on the back of the theater, with the odd flick over to his partner. He was flawless and … distant.

And there was Stewart Harpham-Lale seated in the front row, one hand gripping the cane propped between his legs, the other petting a Yorkshire terrier in his lap. He wore a wrinkled linen suit, rings on each finger, and his mouth curled down in a frown.

When the song ended, the troupe held their final pose. Stewart stood and regarded them for a moment before he approached the stage, wiggling dog under one arm. “We’re lucky we have five more days,” he said in a rasp as he climbed the stairs. “That was … mediocre.” Then he turned to the three of them huddled offstage and waved them forward with his cane. “This is the rest of my troupe, is it?”

They shuffled toward Stewart while the other dancers watched.

It was very quiet in the theater when Archer spoke. “Yes, sir. Archer Read. It’s an honor—”

“Indeed, likewise,” Stewart Harpham-Lale said rapidly, already moving on to Ben and Beau as they introduced themselves.