I try to look on the bright side. “Hey, if there’s a sports category, we’re golden.”
She perks up. “Good point. Last year they had that run of questions about tennis, and nobody answered a single one correctly.”
There are five questions in each category. We write down the answers after conferring with our teammates, and then Manny goes through them at the end of each round. The noise level drops by a few decibels because no one wants a neighboring table to overhear their proposed answers, unless you’re deliberately trying to mislead your competitors, which is Hunter’s style, so we know to tune him out.
“I’ve only seen one of these shows,” Charlie comments, once we jot down the fifth answer.
“Which one?” I ask.
He taps Bill Nye the Science Guy.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a science nerd.”
“I’m not. My younger brother Michael is, though. He’s the reason I ended up watching it.”
“Did he become a scientist?” Laura asks.
“A surgeon.”
Ben’s eyebrows perform a dance of approval. “Your parents must be very proud.”
Charlie hesitates. It’s brief but I notice. “Yeah, of course,” he says. “Three successful kids. What parents don’t want that for their children?”
“What does your other sibling do?” Ben asks.
“She’s a professional golfer.”
Ben nods as he guides his glass back to his lips. “Your family gatherings must be so fascinating.”
“That’s one way of describing them.” Charlie dabs his forehead with a cloth napkin. “Does this place have air conditioning? It’s sweltering.”
“Who wears long sleeves in summertime?” I shoot back.
“We’re in the mountains. I expected the temperature to drop at night.” He unbuttons his sleeves and pushes up the fabric to expose a pair of well-toned forearms. I don’t often see muscles like that at camp. Most of the men are more interested in lifting their comic book collection than weights.
Unsurprisingly, all the teams nail the television category, so it’s on to the next one. By now Charlie has polished off two beers in quick succession and I realize his khaki-clad thigh is pressed against mine. I can’t decide whether it’s deliberate on his part. If I move over an inch, half an ass cheek will be hanging off the seat. Then again, I kind of like the way it feels, being this close to him, not that I would admit it out loud. That’s what my mother would’ve called an ‘inside thought.’
Charlie surprises us by helping with two answers during the round on British Royals.
“Why, Charles Dickens Darwin the Fifth, I did not expect you to be the dark horse on that one.”
His grin seems to be powered by beer and joyful satisfaction. “You can thank my mother. She’s obsessed with the royal family.”
“What has this generic draft beer done to you? Normally you have an excellent poker face, but right now you’re very transparent.”
He leans closer, his expression bordering on devilishly sexy. “Am I?”
I flick his forehead. “Yes.”
He straightens. “Well, you have one of the worst poker faces I’ve ever seen. I can tell when you know the answer before you even open your mouth. It’s written all over your face.”
I don’t take it as an insult. “Deception isn’t one of my strengths.”
“We lawyers have to play our cards close to the vest. It’s part of the job.”
“Well, not that you asked, but I prefer this Charlie, the one who wears his feelings on his face.” I don’t know what possesses me—probably the beer I finished—but I pick up the purple Sharpie and write across his forehead. To my delight, he laughs and calls me nuts.
The next category is announced—Flora and Fauna. I lock eyes with Ben and smile. He’s a plant aficionado and Laura is an animal expert. This round should be a bloodbath.
