One Golden Summer(19)

“You have a great face,” I tell him.

He cocks his head. “Thank you, Alice.”

“But there’s an almost infinite number of great faces in this world, and I’ve seen a lot of them.”

“Oh?”

“I’m a photographer. Faces are kind of my thing. And to be fair, yours is…” I squint into the sun, considering my word choice. “Remarkable,” I say, looking at Charlie again. “You’re handsome, obviously. You know that. The shade of your eyes: It’s rare. You know that, too.”

He squints at me. “Why doesn’t that sound like a compliment?”

“It is a compliment,” I tell him. “The first thing I thought when I saw you this morning at the store was that I wanted to photograph you. There’s a kind of lived-in quality to your features that makes you interesting to look at.”

Charlie is completely still. Aside from his throat moving with a single swallow, he’s turned to stone.

“You have the perfect imperfect face. Hence the whoa.” I tip my chin up, gathering strength. “But it’s just a nice face. It’s literally the last thing that would make someone attractive to me.”

At first all Charlie does is stare, but then he grins. “Message received. Alice Everly: not into faces.”

He moves past me and steps onto the end of his boat so he can haul in John’s skiff. I watch the muscles in his back shift as he pulls on the rope. Charlie glances over his shoulder, catching me mid-ogle. Busted.

“More of an ass woman, then?” His smile is a brilliant display of straight white teeth and dimples.

I know I’m as purple as a beet, but something about him, his lack of modesty, makes me feel emboldened. “I was checking out your shoulders.” My eyes drop to his backside. “But your ass is okay.”

Charlie tuts. “It’s exceptional.”

I battle the smile that wants to bend my lips. Trevor was nothing like this. He was sincere, earnest to the point of being businesslike, but I always knew where we stood. Trevor was solid ground; Charlie is a sheet of thin ice. So it’s bizarre how not awkward I feel with him. We’re sparring, and it’s easy. I’m not sure what he’s going to say, and while it’s slippery new terrain, it feels like I know how to skate across it.

“I’m not sure what to make of you,” Charlie says as he kneels, tying John’s boat.

“You don’t have to make anything of me.”

“I think I do,” he says. “It’s kind of my thing.”

He reaches for my caftan and beach bag and sets them on the dock. I spot my notebook on the floor of the boat at the same time he does. It’s exactly as I left it, folded open to the page with my bucket list.

“I can get that,” I rush out. But it’s too late—Charlie’s climbing in to retrieve it.

“Allow me,” he says. “Since I can’t win you over with my remarkable face.” He shoots me a pointed glance before picking up the notebook.

Please don’t look. Please don’t look. Please don’t look.

He looks.

“What is this?” Charlie’s brows ascend toward space. His gaze flicks to mine. His lip twitches.

“Just give it to me.”

Charlie holds it out, and I lunge so quickly I almost fall into the water. He steadies me by the arm, smiling.

“Not a word.”

He lifts his hands. “I didn’t say a thing.”

Charlie steps onto the dock just as I hear Nan’s voice. “Alice, are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

I stare at the deck, where she stands with her walker.

“He’s not my friend,” I call back.

“Rude,” Charlie says.

“Bring him up for tea.”

Charlie turns to me, grinning. “Bring me up for tea, Alice.”





11




“Are you collecting handsome men today?” Nan asks when Charlie and I arrive at the top of the stairs.

“Just the one,” I tell her. “Nan, this is Charlie Florek. He’s looking after the property for John.”

“Our spirited letter writer and handyman?”

“The very same.”

Her smile blooms as she pieces it together. “And the gentleman from the grocery store this morning?”

“Yup.”

Charlie folds his arms across his chest, smug. “She told you about me, huh?”

Nan’s smile is wider than I’ve seen it since we arrived, encompassing every inch of her face—her lips, the skin around her mouth, the creases around her eyes.

“Nanette Everly.” She sticks out her hand, and Charlie envelops it with his palm. “But everyone calls me Nan. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done around the cottage. I’m sure Alice has told you how grateful we are.”

His eyes skate to me. “Actually, she left that part out.”

“You’re so dashing she must have forgotten herself.”

“Now that you mention it, she did seem a bit flustered.”

I meet his shimmering gaze with daggers.

“Make yourself comfortable, Charlie,” she says. “And I’ll fix us tea.”

“I can do it, Nan.”