That Summer Thing. Pamela Bauer
GONE LONG, and judging by the frown on her face when she returned, she hadn’t gotten the answer she’d expected from her brother.
“Did you talk to Ed?” Charlie asked as she stepped outside into the sunshine. She’d changed into a pair of jean shorts and a yellow top that clung as closely to her curves as the pajamas had.
“My phone isn’t working,” she said, averting her eyes. “Battery’s low. So now what do we do?”
“I told you. We wait for a boat to come by.” With effort, Charlie tried not to notice how the fabric stretched across her breasts.
“Can’t you use the radio?”
“I’m not calling for someone to come give us gas when we’re in the middle of the river on a beautiful sunny day. This isn’t an emergency situation,” he told her.
“So how long do you plan to wait before you consider it an emergency?” she asked tartly.
“We have plenty of food to last until tomorrow if necessary,” he answered.
“Tomorrow?” Her brow wrinkled in a fierce frown. “You told me you’d take me back to Riverbend today.”
“And I will. You’re getting all worked up over nothing.”
“I’m not worked up,” she denied. “It’s just that I’m worried Ed’s going to wonder where I am. He’s expecting me to be at the marina, not in the middle of the river.”
“If that’s what’s worrying you, I’ll call him as soon as I get to shore,” he told her.
She shaded her eyes with her hand, then peered up and down the river. “There’s not a boat in sight.”
“Not yet, but there will be,” he stated confidently.
“And until then?”
“Until then I might as well make us some breakfast,” he said, getting up out of the chair. “Are you hungry?”
He could see the thought of eating wasn’t a tantalizing one. “No, actually I’m not.”
“Then you don’t want to join us?”
“No, I’ll pass.”
Charlie wasn’t sure she’d refused because her stomach was unsettled, or if she just didn’t like the idea of eating breakfast with her ex-husband.
“You go on inside. I’ll sit out here and keep an eye out for a boat,” she told him.
Charlie watched her lower her long slender legs into a lounge chair and thought it best that he did go inside. She was a distraction he didn’t need at the moment. Lucy was right about Beth having an effect on him. There was no point denying that he’d always been physically attracted to her.
But he was no longer a teenager. He only wished his hormones would listen to the message his brain was sending them. Beth was beautiful and smart, but she was not the woman for him. He knew it. She knew it. Everyone in town knew it.
So why did he still want her?
“THE PAN’S SMOKING.”
Charlie turned and saw that Nathan was right. He had set the skillet over the flame and forgotten about it. He switched off the gas.
“You’re not supposed to leave oil in a pan unattended,” Nathan told him.
“Who are you? Smokey the Bear?”
The teenager shrugged. “They taught us safety in the kitchen in ‘living skills’ at school.”
“Did they teach you how to cook?”
“Some stuff. Not bacon and eggs, though.”
Judging by the mess Charlie had made, it looked as if he didn’t know much about cooking breakfast, either. He’d already burned the bacon and over-heated the skillet.
“What about toast? Can you manage that?” he asked.
Nathan shrugged. “I guess.”
“The bread’s over there.” Charlie motioned to the loaf at the end of the counter.
With about as much speed as a turtle, Nathan ambled over to the counter and plugged in the toaster. He popped two slices of bread into the slots, then watched as Charlie cracked eggs into a bowl. All but one broke.
“I like my eggs runny,” Nathan informed him.
“Well, you’re getting them scrambled,” Charlie said, taking a fork to the eggs and whisking them.
“Maybe we should ask Beth to cook for us.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Charlie replied.
“Why not?”
“Because I said no.” He poured the eggs into the pan.
“She might as well earn her keep,” Nathan said.
“She doesn’t need to. As I told you, she owns half this boat.” He sprinkled shredded cheese and onions over the eggs.
“So this Steele guy left both of you the boat?”
“Yes.”
“Weird.”
“Yes, it is.”
“He must not have known she gets seasick.”
“Possibly.” Charlie pushed the eggs around with a wooden spoon.
“How come you don’t like her?”
Charlie paused to look over at Nathan. “What makes you think I don’t like her?”
“Duh. You were pretty rough on her.”
“Me? You’re the one who accused her of being a stowaway.”
“She didn’t tell me it was her boat. Is that why you’re pissed off at her? Because you didn’t get the whole boat?”
“I hope you don’t talk that way around your grandparents,” Charlie said, tempted to give Nathan the treatment his own father would have given him had he used profanity in his presence. “You could get grounded for such language. And just to set the record straight, I’m not angry at Beth.”
It was the truth. Anger was definitely not what he’d felt when he’d seen her standing there in her skimpy pajamas with her hair falling about her face in disarray. Bothered would have been a better word to use, but he didn’t want Nathan to know that she caused such a reaction in him.
“Who is she, anyway?”
“I told you. Her name is Beth Pennington. She was a close friend of my sister Lucy when we were kids. She lived next door to us.”
“Was she a River Rat?”
“Sort of. Your toast is up. Butter’s in the fridge.”
Charlie was relieved that Nathan had a one-track mind, and the task of getting the toast buttered appeared to be the track it was taking. However, the subject of Beth apparently held enough fascination for him, because he quickly came back to it.
“That must have been her titty-holder in the bathroom,” he said as he put two more slices of bread in the toaster.
Charlie could hardly believe that Nathan had used such a word. “It’s called a bra,” he said in his sternest voice.
At the memory of the lacy scrap of material, Charlie’s body warmed. Then he remembered what it had been like as a teenager when he’d seen Beth naked. Heat rushed through every limb in his body, and he forced himself to push such thoughts aside.
He needed to deal with the issue of Nathan’s vocabulary, not daydream about an old lover. “I don’t think your mother would have appreciated you calling one of her undergarments by that name.”
“I wouldn’t