That Summer Thing

When he returned to the salon, Nathan had flopped down onto the leather sofa, sprawling in the way only a teenager could. “Does this mean we’re going back to Riverbend?” His expression brightened.

“There are places between here and there where she could get off the boat,” Charlie answered, which caused the sullen look to return to Nathan’s face.

“Wait a minute. You’re not dumping me off like some unwanted cargo,” Beth said from behind him.

He turned and saw that she had come out of the bathroom. Her face was still pale, but she looked ready to do battle with him, hands on her hips, eyes flashing.

“I’m not going to dump you anywhere,” Charlie told her.

“No, you’re going to take me back to Riverbend.” It was more of a command than a statement of fact. “Ed’s expecting me to be at the marina, not in the middle of a cornfield.”

“I wouldn’t leave you in a cornfield. I just thought that if the motion of the boat makes you feel sick, you might want to get off upstream. I’m sure Ed wouldn’t mind if he had to drive a little farther to get you.”

“I told you I’m fine,” she insisted. “And you haven’t told me what you’re doing here. Ed said you were at some trade show this weekend.”

“My plans changed,” he said, avoiding Nathan’s eyes.

“So you decided to use the boat without asking me?”

“I don’t recall you asking me if you could spend the night onboard,” he retorted. Again the look on Nathan’s face reminded Charlie that he needed to be careful what he said. He didn’t want the fourteen year old to see him in a shouting match with his ex-wife.

“It’s obvious there’s been some miscommunication,” he said in a calmer voice, raking a hand across the back of his neck. “You thought I was out of town and I thought you were still in Iowa.”

That piqued Nathan’s curiosity. He got up from the sofa and went to stand beside Beth. “I’ve never met anybody from Iowa before. What do you do there?”

“She works,” Charlie answered for her, trying to preempt Nathan’s interest, then addressed Beth. “So we both had plans for the boat for the weekend. Now what?”

“Obviously one of us will have to find another place to sleep tonight.”

“Since Nathan and I want to go fishing, I’m willing to buy out your interest for tonight,” he proposed.

“Meaning what?”

“I’ll give you the money for a motel.”

He could see she wasn’t happy with his suggestion. Nor was Nathan, who said, “I don’t care if we don’t go fishing.”

“But I do,” Charlie told him, annoyed that the teen was willing to let Beth have the boat. Nathan was gazing at her as if she was an ally, not an intruder. Charlie looked Beth squarely in the eyes and said, “Since you’re only looking for a place to sleep and we want to use the boat for recreation, wouldn’t it make more sense for you to go to a motel?”

One thing Charlie knew about Beth was that she wasn’t obstinate. Some women might have refused to find another place to sleep out of sheer stubbornness. Not Beth. Decisions were made after careful consideration—a trait he’d admired in her.

That was why he wasn’t surprised when she said, “You can have the boat for the rest of the weekend, but I don’t want your money. I’ll find another place to stay without your help. Now, if you’ll take me back to Riverbend, I’ll get off this boat and you two can have it all to yourselves.”

Charlie had won, but there was no thrill in the victory. “I appreciate that,” he said. “We’ll leave right away.”

“Thank you.”

Unfortunately her gratitude was premature. When Charlie sat behind the controls and turned the key in the ignition, the engine wouldn’t start.

“What’s wrong?” Beth asked, hearing his unsuccessful attempts to get the boat running.

“I’m not sure, but I’m going to find out.” With that he got up out of his chair and headed outside. Beth and Nathan followed him, watching as he lifted a hatch in the deck.

“Well?” she asked when he didn’t volunteer any information.

“I need my tools.” He retrieved a gray metal box from the storage closet and again bent over the hatch. It only took him a few minutes to find the problem.

“Do you know what’s wrong?” she asked when he straightened.

“We’re out of gas,” he announced.

She didn’t believe him. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope.”

“How could we run out of gas?” she demanded.

Charlie said nothing, just let the hatch door slam shut.

“You didn’t answer my question. How could we run out of gas? Didn’t you check the gauge before you left Riverbend?” She was drilling him as if he was her employee, not the co-owner of the boat.

“The fuel gauge says we have a full tank,” he informed her.

She frowned. “So what are you saying? That the gauge isn’t registering?”

“Bingo,” he retorted, wiping his hands on a cloth rag. “There’s probably a short in the wiring.”

“Does that mean we’re stuck here?” Nathan wanted to know.

Beth answered before Charlie could. “We’re not stuck anywhere. I have my cell phone in my purse. I’ll call for help.”

“And who are you going to call?” Charlie wanted to know. “Ed?”

“He must know someone who could bring us gas.”

“I’m sure he does, but it’s not necessary,” Charlie told her. “This is a public waterway and it’s Saturday morning. I’m sure a boat will come by sooner or later.”

“That may be, but I’d rather not wait to find out,” she said, then disappeared inside.

As she walked away, there was only one thought going through Charlie’s mind. Time had been damn good to Beth’s body.

BETH FELT WEAK and her hands were shaking by the time she reached the narrow confines of the lower cabin. She collapsed on the bed and took several deep breaths, hoping her stomach would quit acting as if it were moving independently of the rest of her body.

Yet how could it when Charlie was here on her boat? Correction. On their boat. She was stranded in the middle of the Sycamore River with her ex-husband.

No wonder her stomach felt so unsettled. It had been a shock to see him again—a shock that was intensified by the discovery that he had a son.

When Ed had told her Charlie had never remarried, she’d assumed that meant he had no children. Why should she think any differently? Charlie had always been a man of principle. After all, when he’d found out their one night together had resulted in an unplanned pregnancy, he had married her, saying he would always do the right thing when it came to kids.

But they hadn’t had a child. The thought sent a sharp pain through her chest. She bit down on her lower lip, forcing the memory from her mind.

“No. I will not think about what happened between us, Charlie Callahan,” she said aloud. “I won’t go there.”

She couldn’t go there because she knew if she did, it would be like opening the lid of a jack-in-the-box and the pain she’d managed to bury for so long would pop right up in her face. She pulled off her pajamas and tossed them aside, hoping she could discard the memories with them.

Living in Iowa had made it easy to forget that she’d been married and divorced. No one there knew Charlie, and she had little contact with anyone in Riverbend. Leaving for college had given her the opportunity for a fresh start, a chance to forget the painful past and begin a new life.

Now she was back and her new life felt threatened. Would she be able to pretend Charlie Callahan didn’t exist? That they hadn’t been married?

Thanks to Abraham Steele, it wasn’t going to be easy, but she’d figure out a way to do just that. It would help if she felt nothing for him. She’d hoped that when the day finally came that she did see him again, she would be indifferent toward him. Now that day was here, and it was as if all those years spent learning to live with her mistakes had been stripped away. Instead of a responsible mature adult, she was once more a vulnerable teenager.

It didn’t help that he’d stood before her shirtless, his tanned flesh bulging with muscles strengthened by years of construction work.

As a kid he’d been lean. Even when the other guys who were River Rats had begun spending a lot of time after school in the weight room, Charlie hadn’t cared about building muscles.

And it hadn’t mattered to the girls of Riverbend, either. Charlie was cool. And fun to be with. His popularity had little to do with the size of his biceps. Every kid at Riverbend High knew that Charlie’s appeal was in his personality.

As Beth dressed, she tried not to think about the good times. She needed to remember that they had come with a price. But suddenly all the years she’d spent pretending she’d never been married evaporated as quickly as puddles in the sun.

Her marriage was no longer conveniently buried deep in the cellar of her mind. Its memories were right up front, pushing their way into her thoughts, begging her to remember that Charlie was her first love.

She took a deep breath and willed her body to be calm. She couldn’t think about the past. Not now. She needed to call Ed so she could get off this boat as soon as possible.

It was a good thing she’d brought her cell phone along, she thought, turning it on. In the right-hand corner, a light glowed, indicating the battery was low. She punched in Ed’s number, hoping there was enough of a charge left for her to complete the call, but she was out of luck.

With a frustrated sigh, she tossed the phone aside. She was stuck here with Charlie.

“Damn.”

If only she didn’t have to go back up on deck and see him. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, so why did seeing him again affect her this way? It had to be the shock, she told herself.

Theirs was an awkward situation, but she’d get through it. And as soon as she was back in Riverbend, she’d make sure their paths didn’t cross the remainder of her stay. No matter what Ed advised her, she would get rid of her share of the houseboat in the fastest way possible.

And as for those painful memories…she’d locked them away once before. She could do it again. She just needed to get away from Charlie Callahan.

BETH WASN’T 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 have used it around her.”

“Do the BDs talk that way?”

“I didn’t swear. I just called it a titty-holder. I suppose you’re going to ground me for that, too.” He stalked away and threw himself down on the sofa.

“Come back over here and finish making the toast,” Charlie demanded.

“What’s the point?” Nathan said sullenly.

Charlie counted to ten, then walked over to the sofa. He stooped in front of the teenager so they were face-to-face. “Look, Nathan, it’s been a long time since I was fourteen, and until I met you and your mother, I had no idea how to be a dad, either.”

Nathan didn’t meet Charlie’s gaze. He sat with his eyes downcast, arms folded across his chest, mouth tight.

“I want this six weeks to be a good time—like we used to have. You want that, too, don’t you?” Charlie pleaded.

Nathan nodded, but continued to look down.

“Great. Now, we can do one of two things. Continue on as we have been, or forget about everything that’s gone wrong this morning and start over. Clean slate. What do you say?”

He waited while Nathan contemplated his options. Charlie wondered what the big decision was, but knew better than to voice that thought. Nathan’s grandmother had warned him that trying to be a parent to a fourteen year old was tricky. He now knew what she was talking about.

When Nathan finally raised his head, his eyes didn’t meet Charlie’s, but looked beyond him to the galley. As they widened, Charlie turned around to see why.

Beth was at the stove. “Good grief, Charlie. Only you would leave eggs frying unattended. What are you trying to do? Burn up our inheritance?”

CHAPTER FOUR

BETH GRIMACED at the mess in the pan. “I thought you would have learned to cook by now,” she said to Charlie as he came up behind her.

“I know how to cook,” he told her.

“No, he doesn’t,” Nathan piped up. “That’s why he eats breakfast at the Sunnyside every morning.”

“I don’t eat there every morning,” Charlie said.

“Lucy says you do,” Nathan shot back, then made a face as he gazed over Beth’s shoulder into the contents of the frying pan. “That stuff looks disgusting. It smells bad, too.”

“Nathan, that’s enough.” Charlie’s voice held a hint of censure.

Beth reached for the pot holder on the hook behind the stove. “This isn’t going to be easy to clean,” she said, eyeing the scorched mass of eggs, onion and cheese that coated the bottom of the pan.

“Let me do it.” Charlie tried to reach for the frying pan, but she pushed his arm away.

“No. I want it done properly.”

“Properly?” Charlie echoed. “You think I don’t know how to scour a pan?”

“I know you don’t,” she told him, relieved to see he’d slipped a T-shirt on over his bare chest. It was less intimidating staring at white cotton than sunbronzed pecs. He was still standing much too close for her comfort, though.

“He hates doing cleanup. That’s why he never cooks,” Nathan added.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know how,” Charlie insisted.

“Throwing a pan in the garbage is not cleaning it,” Beth told him, remembering when they were newlyweds and he’d burned spaghetti sauce in an old pot. Instead of trying to clean it, he’d chucked it into their garbage container.

The look he gave her told her he was remembering the same incident. “That was then.”

“What was when?” Nathan asked.

Beth expected Charlie to avoid answering the question, but he didn’t.

“When we were kids, I once burned some spaghetti sauce in this big old black kettle that was well dented and looked like it should have been in the trash heap. So instead of wasting time trying to clean it, I threw it out.”

“It could have been scrubbed clean,” Beth said.

“Didn’t your mom get mad?” Nathan asked.

“It wasn’t my mom’s pan,” Charlie answered.

No, it had been Beth’s, and it had happened a long time ago, although standing here in the close quarters of the galley, it felt like yesterday that they’d stood side by side in the kitchen of their efficiency apartment. She’d cooked him dinner on the tiny two-burner stove with pots she’d found at a garage sale. They’d eaten by the light of candles stuck in empty bottles and made love late into the night on their pull-out sofa.

To Beth it had been like playing house, which was probably why it had been so easy to end their relationship. It hadn’t had the ingredients that made real marriages work—love and commitment. They’d been young, impatient and looking for easy answers during a difficult time. If only they’d waited, instead of rushing into marriage; so much heartache could have been avoided.

She didn’t want the memories that seemed to be worming their way into her consciousness. Nor did she want to be standing next to the man who provoked them.

“Excuse me,” she said, ducking between Charlie and Nathan. She emptied the contents of the skillet into the garbage, then put it in the sink, where she watched the water sizzle into a cloud of steam as it hit the pan. “This is going to need to soak for a while.”

“Does that mean we don’t get breakfast?” Nathan asked.

“You’ll get to eat,” Charlie assured him.

“When?”

“Nathan.” Charlie’s voice carried a warning.

“What’s wrong with asking if I get to eat?” the teen questioned. “I’m hungry.”

Aware of the tension between the two of them, Beth said, “There must be another pan we could use.”

“We?” Charlie cocked an eyebrow.

“Since it looks like I’m the only one who knows how to cook on this boat, I should be the one doing the eggs,” Beth stated pragmatically.

“You’re offering to make breakfast for us?” he asked in disbelief.

She really didn’t want to do anything for Charlie, but found herself saying, “Only because I need to protect my investment.”

“Not funny.” Charlie stepped around her and opened a cabinet. Out came a second skillet, which he set down on the stove with a clang. “Your offer is appreciated, but not necessary. I can make breakfast.”

Nathan groaned. “Oh, great. More burned eggs.”

Charlie gave the boy another glare. “Maybe you want to try cooking for us.”

“No, but if she’s willing to do it, why not let her?” Nathan answered, nodding toward Beth.

“Because it’s not her job to cook for us,” Charlie replied a bit impatiently. “And I would appreciate it if you would remember your manners.”

“What did I say now?” Nathan rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Forget I even asked. I don’t want any breakfast.” Then he stomped away, slamming the sliding screen door as he left.

When he was gone, Charlie apologized for him. “I’m sorry about that.”

She shrugged. “There’s no need to apologize.”

“He’s usually not like that.”

“Like what?”

He chuckled. “Come on. You know what I’m talking about.”

“He’s just being a kid. And an honest one at that. He said the pan smelled bad, which it did, and that he was hungry, which should come as no surprise. Teenagers are always hungry.”

“You’re defending him?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

“You mean, besides the fact that he was rude?”

“He was just being a typical teenager. Besides, he’s right, you know. You are an awful cook.”

“You think so?”

She glanced at the skillet in the sink. “There’s the evidence.”