Charlie grimaced. “Pineapples do NOT belong on pizza.”
She placed a hand on her hip. “Says who?”
“Me.” He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you hear me?”
They shared a laugh. It was the first time she’d seen Charlie loosen up enough to show he had a sense of humor.
“Iprefer supreme pizzas with everything on it,” he said, “but if you want pineapple, we can do a half-Hawaiian and half-supreme.”
“Great.”
Charlie washed his hands and flattened a handful of dough. He gestured his head toward the fridge. “Would you mind pulling out some of the toppings? We should have a decent number of choices.”
He used a ladle to spread the red sauce.
“I see mushrooms, olives, bell peppers, onions, pepperoni, and pineapple. No bacon though.”
He snorted.
Retrieving the plastic containers, she lined them up on the counter and removed the lids. Charlie had started to sprinkle cheese over the crust. “Any food intolerances or allergies I need to be aware of?”
“Nope. Let’s just make a supreme pizza and I’ll add my pineapples separately. To be honest, I don’t like them hot.” She washed her hands in the sink. “How did you know you’d be able to find all the ingredients in here?”
Charlie opened the pepperoni and randomly placed them on top of the cheese. “Who do you think prepares the pizzas for the weekend birthday parties the rink hosts?”
“Oh.” She passed him the mushrooms and olives. “I thought the rink might have an events director or would have the pizzas delivered.”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “Events directors are expensive. It’s just Jack, myself, and Leslie running the place. Jack takes care of the business side of things for the rink. I’m supposed to do skating side of things . . .” He hesitated. “But most of the time it’s Leslie who takes over.
“We learned early on that making pizzas in-house is more cost-effective than ordering out.” Charlie walked over to the oven and slid the tray inside. He checked the time and temperature. “Twelve minutes should do it. There are some bar stools over here.”
They sat across from one another. She rested her head on her arm, suddenly tired. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem to be stretched thinly. Have you thought about hiring an assistant?” Frankie knew she was walking a fine line as a new employee, but exhaustion was clouding her judgment.
Charlie sighed. “We don’t have the budget for it. We had to buy a new Zamboni.”
“Ah.” She changed subjects. “So, how much older is Leslie than you?”
He stared at his hands. “We’re actually twins.”
A twin? She tried to picture the woman with multicolored hair standing next to Charlie. Physically, they had a slightly similar build, but that was where their similarities ended. “I’m having a hard time seeing it.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. We’re the complete opposite of one another in every way imaginable. Leslie’s always been the type of person who hates fitting in, hence the zany-colored hair. But me . . . I’m the twin who’s reserved and never wanted to stick out or cause any trouble. It was hard enough being bullied in school for being a figure skater.”
Frankie’s shoulders drooped. “I’m so sorry. Kids can be so cruel.”
Charlie shrugged. “I won’t lie; itwaspainful, but at least when I was at the rink, none of that mattered. I could just leave the outside world behind.”
She sat up. “Just a guess, but you were tall for your age and one of the very few male skaters at your rink.”
He smirked. “Correct.”
She could picture the hormone-crazed teenage girls taking notice of him and worshiping the ground he walked on.
At her rink, everyone had crushes on the ice dance guys—Jason, Felix, and Phil. They were in their twenties when she and the other girls were around thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen. The guys would always take the time to say hello and chat with them for a few minutes even though they saw them as kids. When they were in the gym working out, she and her fellow skaters looked for any excuse to walk by the windows to peek in.
“I’m sure you had quite a few female admirers. I hope you treated them decently.”
“I was arrogant and cocky. Who wouldn’t be when you’re the center of attention?” Charlie ran a hand through his locks. For the first time, she noticed there was a silvery-white scar running diagonally from his forehead into his hair, normally hidden by his beanie.
