Chapter 15
15
Iturn toward the voice and am unsurprised to find Charlie astride a yellow Jet Ski.
“It’s a unicorn.”
“Unicorns don’t have wings,” he says, eyeing me with a lazy smile.
“Pegasuses don’t have horns.”
He tilts his head in agreement, and then waves up at the deck. “Good afternoon, Nan.”
“Nice to see you again, Charlie.” She might as well be licking her chops.
He points to the binoculars.
“Spying on me?”
“I was bird-watching.”
Charlie smirks. “See any noteworthy species?”
The unicorn or Pegasus or whatever it is squeaks as I try to prop myself up. I can only lean awkwardly on the thing’s mane.
“Just a giant peacock.”
“Text me next time you’re nature-spotting. I’ll be sure to put on a better show.”
“I changed my mind—you’re more like an oversized pest than a peacock.”
He snorts, then holds out a spare life jacket. “Get on. Unless you’d rather keep riding that…thing.”
“This unicorn is very comfortable.”
He begins undoing his life jacket. “Is it?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m joining you. Looks like there’s room for two.”
“There absolutely isn’t.”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
Charlie drops an anchor, and before I can compute the plethora of ridges on his chest and stomach, he dives into the water. I have no idea where he is until he surfaces right next to the unicorn. He grins up at me, and my stomach dips.
“Move over, Alice.”
“Don’t you dare.”
Charlie sets a large hand on a wing and another beside my thigh.
“You’re going to tip it over,” I say, trying to scoot away from the edge.
“Maybe that’s the point.” He wraps his hand around my calf.
“You wouldn’t,” I say, eyes wide. “You’re a grown—”
The word man is lost to my yelp as he pulls me into the lake. I get my head above water as fast as I can so I can splash him in the face.
“Oh, you don’t want to start that,” he says with a Peter Pan smile. We’re treading water. Charlie moves in a circle around me, and I follow his orbit.
“You started it.”
I splash him, and he swipes an arm through the water, drenching my face. I cough, and he moves closer.
“Are you okay? Sorry I—”
I splash him again, and he’s so shocked, I cackle, loud and ugly. But I stop when I see his expression. He’s blinking at me, brows knit.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, wiping water out of my eyes.
Charlie shakes his head. “Nothing. You just…” He clears his throat. “You have a great laugh.”
We stare at each other for a moment, and then Charlie tips his head toward the Jet Ski. “Let’s go. I’ll show you around the rest of Kamaniskeg so you don’t destroy John’s boat on another rock.”
“I—” My instinct is to say no, to stay safely onshore, but then I remember the list and that teenage Alice would have flipped if a cute guy gave her a Jet Ski ride.
So I change my mind. I do it for younger me.
We swim to the Jet Ski, and Charlie hoists himself up. He leans toward me, extending his hand, and pulls me up without any show of exertion. I straddle the seat behind him and buckle the life jacket. When the engine starts, I lock my arms around his waist. He smells sunny and gardeny and fresh, and it’s an effort not to breathe him in more deeply, to figure out what that scent is.
“As nice as it is to be held by you, Alice, there are handgrips for you to hang on to.”
I snap my arms back, apologizing.
“Just reach down and you’ll feel them.” Charlie glances at me over his shoulder. Beads of water garnish his lashes like dewdrops. His eyes are an impossible shade of green, almost golden in the afternoon sun. He’s freshly shaven. His profile is stunning.
Click.
I wish I had my camera.
“Alice?”
“Sorry. I was just…”
“Ogling my remarkable face.” Charlie’s mouth curves into that smug setting I’m already familiar with. It’s a hint of a smile, knowing and teasing, higher on one side than the other. Charlie’s features speak for him. Nothing fools us , they say.
“Your eyelashes,” I say, deciding to tell him the truth. It’s not like his head can grow any larger. “The way the water clings to them is really pretty in this light.”
Charlie faces me more fully, the cocksure expression evaporating. He frowns, searching my eyes. A thrill courses through me. I feel it in my ears, my fingers, my toes. It’s spiked with fear, like I’ve accepted a dare.
“You’re different,” Charlie says.
I will my voice to stay steady. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
“It’s not an insult. Just a fact. I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”
I don’t have time to figure how I feel about that before he starts the engine. “You ready?”
I white-knuckle the handgrips. “Go slow.”
Charlie’s laugh rumbles between my legs, and that courses through me, too. “Not a chance.”
He lifts his eyes to my grandmother, who watches us from the deck, a giant smile on her lips. “I’ll have her back in one piece in about an hour, Nan.”
That’s the only warning I get before we’re racing across the water. I hold in my breath, squeezing my knees tight to Charlie’s hips.
“You okay back there?” he calls over his shoulder.
I turn my head, watching the cottages rush by. “I think so.”
It doesn’t take long for me to unclamp. I like the wind in my face, the water splashing on my calves. The view of Charlie’s arms and bronzed neck isn’t terrible, either.
I don’t notice that I’ve sighed until Charlie calls back to me, “Enjoying yourself?”
“I am. It’s weirdly relaxing.”
He shows me the best passage around the bay, slows when we reach the larger island, and glances at me. “You’ve never been on a Jet Ski?”
“First time.”
A corner of Charlie’s mouth inches up. “Is that why it’s on that list of yours?”
Ride a Jet Ski. Number thirteen.
I make a point of finding the buckle on my life jacket fascinating. But he ducks down so I’m forced meet his laughing eyes. “Any other firsts on there?”
There are tiny flecks of yellow surrounding his irises, and I glare at them. “That’s none of your business,” I say primly. “What you read was private.”
“I’m only curious.”
“Well, don’t be.”
Any trace of humor fades. “I’m sorry. I’m only teasing.”
“Okay.”
“My family was big into teasing,” he says. “It’s basically the Florek love language.”
I mellow. “I don’t speak Florek, so you’ll need to translate.”
“The one thing you really need to know is that we only make fun of people we like.”
“What happens when you fall in love? Do you stage a roast? Gift wrap a rubber chicken?”
He chuckles. “There’s that Alice Everly sense of humor. You’d fit right in.”
As soon as the words leave his lips, his grin flattens. “Hold on,” he says. “I’ll show you the safest route around the island.”
As he points out the areas that are hazardous for the blades of a motor, there’s not a sliver of a smirk in sight. He glances at me over his shoulder to make sure I’m following, his gaze narrowed in concentration, and I wonder if there’s a more serious person under the swagger. I’m usually quick to figure people out, but Charlie keeps surprising me.
Before we set off again, I point to the cliff across from the island. “I’m going to jump from that.”
“I know.”
“How do—” I cut myself off. The list. Number one. “Never mind.”
Charlie studies me. “Want to do it now? I’ll go with you.”
My stomach knots.
“Are you scared of heights?” An earnest question.
“No.”
We look at the rock face.
“So you’re afraid of…?”
“Dying.”
“I won’t let you die. Or get hurt.”
I stare into his eyes and somehow know he means it.
“Whenever you’re ready, let me know. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
“Good,” I say, heart pounding. “Let’s do it now.”
I peer over the edge. “It’s higher than it looks.”
Charlie steps beside me. “All you have to do is jump. I’ll go first. I’ll be down there if anything happens.”
My head snaps in his direction. “I thought you said this was safe.”
“It is safe. But I’ll still be there.”
Staring back at the water, I take a deep breath, in and out. “I’m turning thirty-three tomorrow. You’d think I’d be a little braver.”
“I think the older we get, the scarier shit becomes.”
It’s kind of profound. I narrow my eyes. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.” Charlie’s voice is so grim I laugh, but it dies in my throat at his expression.
“Is it really so bad?”
“Nah.” He sounds light, but there’s a trace of something like sorrow in his eyes. “Every year we get is precious.”
There’s more to the story—I feel it in my gut.
I don’t know Charlie well enough to pry, but every bone in my body softens with the need to place a grin back upon his lips. I take a few large steps back from the edge.
“What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Charlie’s mouth opens, but he doesn’t try to stop me. I stare down the granite ledge, fill my lungs, and then I run, launching myself off the cliff with as much force as I can. I hurtle through the air, arms circling.
It’s over quickly. My smile breaks through the surface, and I plunge into the cool depths of the lake. When the downward pull eases, I flutter my legs, returning to daylight and oxygen. I spin in the water just in time to see Charlie jump. I’m laughing, pushing my hair out of my eyes, when he bobs up beside me. His grin shines like morning sun over the bay. The dimples. The creases hugging the corners of his eyes. The water running down his nose.
Click .
Charlie sends a gentle flick of water into my face. “So much for being afraid.”
I splash back, exhilarated. “Race you to shore.”
We jump twice more, the last time in tandem. Then we climb on the Jet Ski, and as my hair whips behind me, I try not to examine why I feel looser than I have in months, or the reason my cheeks hurt from smiling, or why my skin heats whenever my knee bumps Charlie’s thigh.
When we get to the big end of Kamaniskeg, Charlie points out where, on still days, you can see the wreckage of the Mayflower , a paddle steamer that sank in a winter storm more than a century ago. He tells me how three passengers survived by hanging on to a casket.
“When it’s windy, the whitecaps in this part of the lake can be dangerous,” he says. Even now, when there’s not much more than a breeze, waves disrupt the surface. Charlie turns to make sure I’m listening.
“Got it.”
“It could be unsafe in John’s little boat.” He stares at me, unblinking.
“Okay.”
He nods, satisfied, and then we’re bombing across miles and miles of open blue. It’s rough here, and Charlie goes fast. Once we make it to the mouth of a river, he drops the speed, and I breathe a bit easier.
“Sorry about that. But you would have felt the waves even more if I went slow.”
“I’m all right,” I tell him. And I am. If there’s one thing I’ve learned today, historic paddle steamer wreckages aside, it’s that Charlie knows what he’s doing on the water.
We travel down the river, past a rope swing, to a bridge where a string of kids wait to jump into the water below. On the other side is a restaurant. A row of Muskoka chairs is lined up along the beach, where children are playing, and behind them are patio tables with red umbrellas. A band is setting up outside.
“That looks like a fun spot.”
“It’s called the Bent Anchor,” Charlie says. He glances at me, and his eyes catch on my hair.
I reach up; the curls are a knotted nest. “How bad is it?”
He shifts to face me, and I ignore the brush of his leg against mine. “You look like you should be standing in an oversized shell.”
“You’re comparing me to Venus?”
“You have great hair.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t take compliments well.”
“Not really.”
“It looks like it can’t easily be controlled,” Charlie says. “It suits you.”
I pull a face. “I usually wear it straight and pulled back,” I say. “I prefer controlled.”
“Controlled isn’t you,” he says. “You’re unpredictable.”
“I’m very predictable.”
“I don’t think so,” Charlie says. “I think you’re a wild card.”
Just then, a strong breeze travels over the river, sending my hair across my face and into Charlie’s eyes. We both reach to hold it out of my face at the same time, his fingers settling on mine. For a moment that seems to stretch for hours, he looks at me in that disconcerting way, like he can see not only into my soul but to a deeper place. A corner that’s full of secrets I haven’t learned yet. It makes me feel stripped to my essential parts.
“Told you,” he says. “Wild card.”
“You don’t know me very well.”
“Not yet.” His eyes flicker down to my mouth, and then, catching himself, Charlie springs his gaze back to mine. He turns away, gesturing toward the restaurant, his voice a little ragged. “It’s good. I can tell Harry to take you.”
A second passes before I remember who he’s referring to. His friend. Harrison.
“Oh,” I say. “Sure.”
“Is it cool if I give him your number? He’s been asking for it.”
“Yeah.” I should sound enthusiastic. Harrison is cute. “So cool.”
Nan is waiting for us on the deck, where we left her. I hand Charlie the life jacket and thank him for the ride.
“I’ll see you tomorrow evening?” I ask.
“The big party.” He fixes a dazzling grin on his face. “I wouldn’t miss it.”