13. Charlie
13
Charlie
The steam from the shower billows out into the bathroom as I pull the curtain back. The bathroom is small—cozy—and there’s stuff strewn all over the place, even though at least half of Bea’s stuff is in the downstairs bathroom temporarily. My toiletries have mingled with Bea’s and Naomi’s and I’m pretty sure someone used my toothpaste last night, which is fine.
When I’d first seen the stuff spread out, I’d wanted to reach out and touch every item and see if I could tell if it was Bea’s or her sister’s. Yesterday made me realize how far off my guesses were.
I just reach for a towel and scrub my face and hair. Moving down my chest, I don’t have the scrape of dry towel on wet skin in my ears and I can hear voices downstairs.
I smile, thinking about Bea’s audiobook, and catching her lying on the couch, eyes closed and her arms crossed. Her thumb was just lightly stroking her upper arm, and I wonder if she even knew she was doing it.
I scrub my junk, drying my upper thighs and my balls, when I hear a shriek and freeze.
It doesn’t sound like an audiobook—it sounds like Bea.
And a man’s voice answers.
I wrap the towel around myself, tucking the corner in as I fling the door open and hustle down the hall to the stairs. The voice gets louder—it’s definitely a man and he’s definitely in here .
The stairs are carpeted and I take them two at a time. I grip the banister to swing toward the living room and skid in, the rug beneath me sliding just enough that I lose my balance and have to catch myself—and my towel—before I see that there is a man in here, and he and Bea are both smiling...or at least they were until I ran in like a berserker.
He’s got an arm slung over her shoulders and is lowering her onto the couch. I’m spared barely a glance by both of them as he gently releases her and she settles into the cushion.
“There,” he says, dusting his hands off. “Can I get you anything else?”
Bea smiles up at him like he hung the moon. Then she points with one hand toward the pillow on the floor. “Could you get me that pillow? I knocked it off when I was answering the door.”
“Of course.”
I watch like a chump, a small puddle of water dripping onto the rug, as this stranger helps her, lifting her foot up and fluffing the pillow carefully before placing her foot back down.
All things Bea insisted on handling herself this morning.
“Thank you so much.”
The guy smiles right back at her as if they are the only two people in the world. He’s about our age, with thick sandy-brown hair that flops to one side and a lean build. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up and he’s wearing boots and jeans.
“You’re very welcome,” he says, and stands, turning to face me.
“Hey, I’m Kit Hutchinson.” He offers me a hand and a wide smile, completely unfazed by the fact that I’m wearing nothing but a towel.
I squint at his hand, then squint at him. “Who are you, Kit?”
He retracts his hand and chuckles good-naturedly. “There seems to have been a mix-up. I’m with the rental company, and we offer a light cleaning for our guests every few days. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be home.”
Oh, I had responded to an email from the rental company saying we’d be out skiing. My mouth opens but Bea interrupts. “Are you a local?”
“Indeed I am.” Kit puts his hands in his jeans pockets in an almost aw shucks move and then sits on the coffee table to be eye level with Bea. “Born and raised.”
I move closer and cross my arms. I’m going for looming. We don’t need a cleaning service, surely you’re a busy man, move along now. He doesn’t take the hint.
Bea glances at me—or maybe it’s a glare—and then asks him some questions about the area. He’s a walking travel guide, suggesting places to eat and telling her she’s got to come back in the summer to hike.
Finally, Kit claps his hands on his thighs and stands. “Well, unless you need anything, I better get going.”
“Well, actually...” Bea starts. She smiles up at Kit. “Could you chop some firewood for us?”
He chuckles. “Been enjoying the fireplace? It’s very romantic.” He winks at her.
What am I, invisible? Chopped liver? I’m right here .
“We don’t need more firewood,” I say to deaf ears. Bea definitely glares at me this time.
Kit saunters over to the window to gaze outside. He turns back to Bea, his brow wrinkled but still a teasing smile on his lips. “There is plenty of wood outside. It should be enough to last the rest of your visit, even if you use both the fireplace and the firepit every night.”
“We eat a lot of s’mores,” she confesses. She’s flirting with him!
“There’s an axe in the shed, so it won’t take me long to replenish your supply. You can just call me if you need more.”
“Sounds great, Kit.”
Bea picks up her phone and Kit rattles out his number. She texts him, and there’s an answering ding in his back pocket.
“All right, well, enjoy your time in Here, and if you need anything, let me know.” He smiles at Bea, nods at me, and then shows himself out.
Bea watches him leave the room and then sighs when the door closes.
“Chopping wood, really?” I ask.
She picks up her headphones from the table and shrugs, not even bothering to look at me while she puts them in. “What? It would have been hot.”
My back teeth grind, and I spin around and stomp upstairs.
Hot? I’ll show her hot.