Emma’s gaze drifted back to her book. Charlie could hardly blame her for losing interest.
“Is this your boy at last?” asked a new voice, with an accent Charlie couldn’t place. He turned to see a man around his father’s age who looked like he should be starring in one of those historical miniseries Charlie’s mom liked to watch, full of mist and cobblestones and lace.
He placed both hands on Charlie’s shoulders, staring deeply into his eyes before kissing him on the cheeks, left and then right. There was an alarming moment when it seemed he might be going for the mouth and Charlie almost jerked back, but he managed to control himself.
“Mr. Koenig?” he guessed. His father looked pleased Charlie had figured it out, but less so when he added, “You seem very healthy.”
It wasn’t only the strength of his grip. You could practically see the life force radiating from his glowing skin—especially in contrast to his daughter, who looked like she might be getting over a cold. Not that Charlie would have said that part out loud. He felt mean for even thinking it. That was just a lot of sweater for a warm day.
“Call me Philip,” Mr. Koenig said.
“Oh, that’s—”unlikely to happen, Charlie silently finished. “I’m Charlie. Pike.” He pointed at himself, aware even before his father sighed that this was not approved alpha-male behavior.
“I bet Emma would like to go outside and get some fresh air,” Mr. Pike hinted. “Meet the other young people. Why don’t you escort her, Charlie? I heard there might be a volleyball game.”
Charlie tried to imagine a less enticing prospect. Paper cuts on all his fingers, maybe. While juicing a bag full of lemons.
“I’m not going out there.” Although Emma’s voice was barely above a whisper, there was a finality to the words that left no room for argument. “Hay fever,” she added, before turning her attention back to her book.
It was an impressive dodge. Short of throwing up in the car, it was almost impossible to derail one of Mr. Pike’s “fresh air and exercise” campaigns. Charlie was torn between intimidation and asking her to share her secret.
“Who is that ravishing creature?” Mr. Koenig said. He was facing the other direction, so Charlie couldn’t see who he was talkingabout. Nor did he care, since it was almost certainly another business connection of his father’s.
“How do you do?”
Charlie’s spine snapped upright, as if a puppeteer had pulled his strings. That voice—
Time slowed to a crawl as he turned.
His brain saidimpossible,but his body was already in motion. Charlie forgot the other people in the room, the bottle of not-beer in his hand, and (most catastrophically) the ottoman that had occupied the same patch of floor for at least a decade. All he could think about was getting to her as quickly as possible.
Which was how he wound up launching himself headfirst over a piece of furniture and landing at her feet. Propping himself on his elbows, he slowly lifted his head.
Jean.
Those were Jean’s ankles, and Jean’s legs, her knees, her— He jerked his head up to meet her eyes.Please,he thought, not sure what he was asking for. She was a life jacket, and Charlie wanted to wrap her around his body before the choppy waters closed over his head. Only not literally, since they were on dry land. (Mostly dry; his hand was touching something wet.)
Before he could unstick his tongue, the sound of laughter penetrated the roaring in his ears.
“For goodness’ sake, Charlie.” His father’s voice was bright, like it was all in good fun, but there was no mistaking the underlying strain. “You’re making a mess.”
A napkin landed next to Charlie’s arm, startling him. Details sharpened: a soggy patch on the carpet where he’d spilled his drink, the bottom half of his body still propped on the ottoman like a human wheelbarrow, Mr. Koenig stepping over him to greet Jean.
Was he going to kiss her? Charlie had a wild impulse to grab the older man’s ankle and wrestle him away, but she was alreadyletting Philip Koenig press his lips to her hand. No doubt she’d gotten a good whiff of his incredible smell, like a forest full of saddles next to a seaside cliff. It was enough to make anyone lightheaded. Dammit!
There was an old bottle of cologne on Charlie’s dresser. Maybe he should run upstairs and spritz himself. Except that would mean leaving Jean alone with Philip Koenig, which seemed like a very bad idea, what with him being so good-looking… and the way he was looking at her. But who could blame him?
She was even prettier than Charlie remembered. How long had it been since he’d breathed the same air as Jean? Way too long. And now she was here, but still so far away. All he could do was stare. Those eyes were like moss agates. Or no, topaz—
“Didn’t know your boy was a rodeo clown.” The spicy-cocktail guy slapped himself on the thigh, chortling.
“It takes a lot of nerve to step into the arena with an angry bull.” It was unclear whether Charlie’s father was defending him or implying he wasn’t tough enough for rodeo.
While Charlie sopped up the spill, Mr. Koenig led Jean to the sofa, still holding her hand. They sat side by side, too close together for Charlie’s comfort. He started to drag himself in that direction, then remembered he wasn’t built for serpentine locomotion and awkwardly swung his legs around. Emma Koenig acknowledged his struggles with a slow blink.
Jean didn’t even glance at him. His heart plummeted. It wasn’t because she seemed so taken by a smooth older man that she hadn’t paid the slightest attention to Charlie. (Well, it wasn’tonlythat.) Charlie had just remembered a crucial piece of information. If Jean looked in this direction, she might seeSmithsonthrough the patio doors.
She would be devastated! And then she would hate it here and want to leave! On top of which Charlie would have to call Smithson out, causing a scene that would give his dad a stroke.He forced himself to check the patio, gasping in relief when he realized the entire group had migrated out of sight.
