One Golden Summer(18)

Charlie grins like he’s won a round, and the expression zings through me. I’ve seen the same smirk, on the same face, only it was sixteen years younger.

The realization knocks me over like a tidal wave. Charlie is the older brother from my photo, the one I wove elaborate fantasies about. My mouth falls open in slow motion, and I snap it shut before he sees me gaping. I flash several degrees hotter, suddenly nervous, suddenly seventeen.

“A summer with just you and your grandmother,” Charlie says, jerking me back to the present. “That’s unusual.”

I blink at him, finding it difficult to get words past my lips, before coming up with, “Is it?”

“I’d say so.”

I take a deep breath, pulling myself together. “We’re close. The least I could do was get her out of her house.”

Charlie’s gaze travels my face; his brows are pulled together slightly. “That doesn’t seem like the least you could do.”

I hum, not fully agreeing. “She’s family. I did what anyone would.”

“I doubt that.” His eyes find mine, piercing as lasers, as if he can see deep inside. It’s unsettling. “I bet you’re not like anyone else, Alice Everly.”





10




I find myself studying Charlie as we pull up to the dock, trying to figure him out. Arrogant, definitely. Unpredictable, too. A loose cannon. The kind of guy I normally avoid. The Everly clan has ego, attitude, and drama aplenty. I don’t need it elsewhere, especially not from men. Security. Safety. Comfort. It’s what I thought I had with Trevor.

“How’s your grandmother settling in?” Charlie asks.

“Okay, I think.”

He waits for her to continue.

“She’s more tired than usual after her surgery, but she’s healthy. Her doctor says she’s recovering well. I’m hoping being here will lift her spirits.”

“Let me know if you need anything else. I’m happy to help.”

I frown. “Why?”

Green eyes sparkle back. “Why not?”

“You don’t know us.”

“Let’s just say I owe the universe a few good deeds.” He raises an eyebrow. “And now you owe me.”

I’m not sure if he means to be suggestive or if it’s because his voice sounds like foreplay, but I find myself growing pink. “Is that so?”

Charlie cuts the engine, secures the back of the boat, and hops out to tie the front. When he’s done, he stands over me, extending his palm. “Big-time.”

I take his hand and climb out of the boat. But he doesn’t let go. Goose bumps rise on my arms.

“Safely ashore,” Charlie says.

“My hero.”

My gaze lingers on the slash of his jaw and the stubble that covers it, before falling to the base of his tan throat. Here I am with the boy from my photo. Only he’s all grown up. And so am I. My pulse quickens against my wrists.

Charlie tilts toward me with a wolfish grin. “Are you blushing?”

“It’s sunburn.” I let go of his hand and step back.

A delighted bellow bursts from his chest. “You tell yourself that, Red.”

And there it is. Red. The reality check is impeccably timed.

I let out a growl, growing an even deeper shade of crimson.

“I told you not to call me that,” I snap.

“You’re cute when you’re mad.” Charlie reaches out, flicking the brim of my hat.

I stare at him, stunned. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Far too many things to list.” He’s smiling—impervious to my irritation or simply enjoying it. “I’ll let you discover that for yourself another day. How about I take you around the lake? Point out the spots you need to be careful of.”

“That’s really not necessary.”

He glances at John’s boat. “I think it might be. Besides, we’re neighbors. I’m just right over there.” He points to the big white house across the bay, the place that once beckoned to me in the early morning sun.

“I think I’ll pass.”

“But why?” His forehead scrunches. I doubt he’s been turned down once in his entire life.

“It’s nothing personal. You’re just not my type.”

He puts a hand on his chest, as if offended. “I’m everyone’s type.”

I can’t help it. I laugh. Loudly. This guy is something. Charlie blinks at the sound. Admittedly, I have a bloodcurdling laugh. Heather calls it my witch cackle.

“You know, some people consider boasting distasteful,” I say.

“Nah.” His eyes flash with mischief. “Not you, Alice Everly. You like it.”

His voice is deep and rough. Somehow, he makes my name sound illicit. I imagine him whispering against my skin.

Alice Everly. Alice Everly. Alice Everly.

Nope. No. Not happening. I square my shoulders. “You have no idea what I like.”

He smirks. “I think I have a pretty good idea. Let’s not forget how we met,” he says with a wistful sigh. “I remember it like it was only this morning. You, me, the cucumbers…” He leans close and whispers, “Whoa.”

He’s teasing, but he’s so ridiculous I’m not embarrassed. He’s right; I don’t mind it. If anything, I might like it. I’m not sure I’ve met such an unapologetic flirt before. But we have a whole summer ahead of us, and I’ve got to put a stop to it.