Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
CHARLIE
“Who? What? Nothing—I don’t see anythin g.”
I spin toward Alice to block her view, and no man has ever sounded more guilty. She raises her eyebrows in protest, ready to call me out. But then we both realize how close we’re standing, and her breath hitches.
Mine does too.
Our gazes catch next, holding each other in place, and I get lost in that moment like I did at cakewalk bingo. If you asked my name, I couldn’t tell you. All I’d remember are brown eyes, red hair, and a solar system of freckles. Whole constellations I want to trace with my thumb.
Alice wobbles a little, probably because we’re standing so close. I try to steady her as Alice’s faint strawberry scent washes over me, and my hands end up in the exact wrong spot, thanks to that crop top. Her bare waist is warm under my palms, her skin soft beneath my fingertips.
Everything in me wants more, for this moment to keep going. Every cell in my body begs me to pull her closer.
Behind us, the Sharp twins slam the recycling bin shut. Alice and I both startle, but she recovers first, trying to peer over my shoulder again. Not so fast, Carrots.
My heart thumps wildly after being so close to her, but I fight to stay focused. Spinning away to face the window, I try to block her view again—without almost kissing her this time. Like the boring reformed Charlie that I am.
Except there’s nothing to see. Just a twin brother and sister high-fiving each other in my yard. My two favorite weirdos.
Alice sighs wistfully. “It must be a twin thing.”
“Must be.”
It doesn’t take long for them to join us. The front door flings open, and the Sharp twins bound inside. As triumphant as Olympians or Super Bowl MVPs.
Lydia is the first one to spot us in the kitchen together, and her eyes sparkle. Though I can’t tell if that’s because of her early morning thievery or how close I’m standing to Alice. I duck away from the window (and my favorite redhead) as Tyler walks in, but his eyes have that same sparkle, the gleam of a job well done.
Alice weaves around him to take her coffee to the dining table, and he claps me on the shoulder, voice low. “We started at the principal’s house and worked our way out. Then we doubled back to make sure we hadn’t missed anything. I think we got them all.”
This is why the Sharp twins are the best. Pure friendship gold.
“I owe you big.”
He shakes his head. “You never owe me anything. We’re always even. You know that.”
He starts making his breakfast, late for the self-imposed fourteen-hour days he always puts in on his webcomic, but he doesn’t seem upset about running behind schedule. After a morning spent stealing gossip papers with his sister, he looks happier than I’ve seen him in weeks. Lydia does too, until Cookie runs over. His little tail is wagging fast, and her face falls.
Normally, nothing makes her happier than her beloved fur baby. But not when she’s been out all morning, hasn’t taken him for his big walk, and is almost late for work.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “I’ll take him for a walk. I needed my Cookie fix anyway.”
Lydia beans, making heart-hands at me as she bolts upstairs to get ready. Yelling “I love you, Charlie” and “you’re the best” before her brother even knows what hit him.
By the time he recovers, she’s long gone, but he gives me “the look” anyway. Gearing up to play his favorite game.
Since Alice is across the room, lost in her morning coffee, I don’t mind.
“Hold up,” he jokes. “We’ve got one rule. What’s our rule?”
“Sisters are off-limits.”
I roll my eyes as I say that, and he play-punches my arm, but it’s the best version of his game we’ve had in a long time. Both of us happy and messing around, in matching good moods after his big scandal-sheet heist.
Then Alice pipes up from the table, ruining everything. My mood deflating like a punctured balloon.
“What if they shouldn’t be?”
We both turn to stare at her, and she blushes a little. But she holds her ground. “Off-limits,” she says. “What if they shouldn’t be? What if Lydia and Charlie fall in love? What if they’re perfect for each other?”
Perfect for each other? Is she serious?
I almost kissed that woman in this very kitchen less than five minutes ago. And I’m going to fantasize about that almost-kiss for the rest of my life. What does she mean I might be perfect for Lydia?
“We’re like brother and sister,” I assure Alice. “We’re basically family.”
She nods, but then she glances back at Tyler. “I’m not saying it’s happening. I’m just saying it might be nice.”
It might be nice?
I can think of a million things that would be nicer. And all of them involve Alice and me alone, no Sharp twins in sight.
I can’t say that to her. I can’t say anything. She gives me one last shy smile—a supportive smile—and I don’t know what to do with that. How to describe the way that smile plunges tiny daggers into my heart and twists them in perfect unison.
But I know I don’t like it.
My morning only gets worse. As soon as I open the door to take Cookie on his walk, I wish I hadn’t. Three women are waiting on my front stoop, and those Old Birds mean business.
They’re wearing full tracksuits, ready for a morning walk of their own, but Dottie’s the odd bird out. She’s paired her ensemble with a giant sunhat while the others are wearing visors. Yet the looks on their faces match perfectly, all three of them up to no good.
I smell trouble.
Fake-dating trouble.
Shaking my head, I hold tight to Cookie’s leash. “No—no way.”
I was very clear at bingo. I’ve got a teaching job to think about, a future at Ponderosa Elementary. “I’m trying to be as boring as possible, remember?. Respectable. Completely un-gossip-worthy.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dottie gives me one of her too-sweet glances. Bubblegum and cyanide all rolled into one. “How’s that working out for you? Being un-gossip-worthy?”
Beside her, Henrietta holds up something I hadn’t noticed. A scandal sheet she definitely shouldn’t have.
“How did you get that?”
Henrietta shrugs. “I beat your friends to the punch. I like to grab my copy right after it hits the fence.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“Do I strike you as the kind of person who sleeps soundly? Do I appear calm and well-rested to you?”
She does not.
Henrietta “Bingo Brawl” St. James is many things, but well-rested probably isn’t one of them. There’s a good chance that woman hasn’t had a solid night’s sleep in decades, since before she had seven kids. And she’s never been calm.
I sigh, waiting for the rest of my shakedown, eager to get this over with. But Dottie and Henrietta don’t say anything else. They glance at their fearless leader and wait.
Edna watches me through her dark sunglasses. At least I think she does, and it’s a truly unnerving experience. To know she’s probably staring right at me, but not be able to see her eyes.
Then she goes in for the slow kill, ready to drag this out for fun.
“Let’s go for a little stroll, kid. We need to talk.”