“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “There’s no need to be around me at all.”
I give him a close-lipped smile that we both know means,Now please leave.
He lifts his brows in response.
With an eye roll, I sit on the bench and give the engine cord a tug, but the motor doesn’t start. I give it another yank, and still nothing.
“I’d be happy to assist you.” He doesn’t addCity Girl, but I can hear it.
“No, I’m good,” I reply through clenched teeth. Of all the people on the lake to come to my aid, it had to be him. I pull the cord again. And again. And again.
“You might want to wait,” he says. “Or else you’ll—”
I try once more, and the engine falls silent. The smell of gasoline drenches the air.
I look at Charlie.
“Or else you’ll flood the motor.”
“You’ll need to wait about twenty minutes before you can give it another go,” Charlie informs me with a highly satisfied smile.
“You don’t have to look so happy about this.”
“Why not? Now I can give you a ride home.” He winks. “It’s not every day I get to stage a rescue.”
I snort. “I’ll wait it out, thanks. It’s a gorgeous afternoon.”
He studies me for a second, his gaze so direct I almost look away. When he speaks, all the teasing has vanished from his voice. “You can trust me to take you back to your cottage, Alice. Let me get the rope so I can give you a tow. Looks like you’ve had enough sun.”
I follow his eyeline to my reddened skin. He’s right. I’ll need to slather myself with aloe vera later.
“All right.” I acquiesce.
With abundant inelegance, I manage to row my boat next to Charlie’s. As he tethers the vessels together with a length of nylon rope, my eyes journey down his biceps and sculpted forearms to his massive hands. He grins again when he sees me staring.
And then reaches for me.
“What are you doing?”
His smile cracks like lightning. “Lifting you on board.”
In a flash, Charlie hooks his hands under my armpits and, without so much as a grunt, has me in the air. I reach for his shoulders with a yelp as he sets me on my feet. His skin is warm under my hands. I’m so close the brim of my straw hat touches his chest. He smells like sun and soap and something expensive and plantlike that I can’t identify. I tilt my chin, and for a second, we both stare. Charlie looks down between us, to where mypalms rest flat against his chest, and I take a sudden step back, dropping onto a seat.
Charlie chuckles. “Are you always clumsy?”
“Not really.”
“Must be me, then.”
I roll my eyes, and his smile broadens. “Don’t worry, Alice. I have this effect on people.”
He reaches over me, picking up a striped towel from the floor at my feet. His knuckles brush innocently over my calf, and I resist a shiver. He hands me the towel. “Throw this over your shoulders. You probably burn if you so much as look at the sun.”
“I burn if I consider the possibility of going outside,” I tell him, and his dimples appear.
Charlie starts the engine, and on the way back to the cottage, he points out a sandy bit of crown land that’s nice for picnics. He drives with one hand on the wheel, like the boat is an extension of his body, knees turned to me, paying attention to the water as much as he does me.
“So you’re here with your grandmother for the summer. Will you have any guests joining you?”
