That Summer Thing

“When?”

“Nathan.” Charlie’s voice carried a warning.

“What’s wrong with asking if I get to eat?” the teen questioned. “I’m hungry.”

Aware of the tension between the two of them, Beth said, “There must be another pan we could use.”

“We?” Charlie cocked an eyebrow.

“Since it looks like I’m the only one who knows how to cook on this boat, I should be the one doing the eggs,” Beth stated pragmatically.

“You’re offering to make breakfast for us?” he asked in disbelief.

She really didn’t want to do anything for Charlie, but found herself saying, “Only because I need to protect my investment.”

“Not funny.” Charlie stepped around her and opened a cabinet. Out came a second skillet, which he set down on the stove with a clang. “Your offer is appreciated, but not necessary. I can make breakfast.”

Nathan groaned. “Oh, great. More burned eggs.”

Charlie gave the boy another glare. “Maybe you want to try cooking for us.”

“No, but if she’s willing to do it, why not let her?” Nathan answered, nodding toward Beth.

“Because it’s not her job to cook for us,” Charlie replied a bit impatiently. “And I would appreciate it if you would remember your manners.”

“What did I say now?” Nathan rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Forget I even asked. I don’t want any breakfast.” Then he stomped away, slamming the sliding screen door as he left.

When he was gone, Charlie apologized for him. “I’m sorry about that.”

She shrugged. “There’s no need to apologize.”

“He’s usually not like that.”

“Like what?”

He chuckled. “Come on. You know what I’m talking about.”

“He’s just being a kid. And an honest one at that. He said the pan smelled bad, which it did, and that he was hungry, which should come as no surprise. Teenagers are always hungry.”

“You’re defending him?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

“You mean, besides the fact that he was rude?”

“He was just being a typical teenager. Besides, he’s right, you know. You are an awful cook.”

“You think so?”

She glanced at the skillet in the sink. “There’s the evidence.”

“No, it isn’t. That could have happened to anyone.”

“Fine, it could have. Since you’re such a great cook, I guess I should let you get back to it,” she said, trying to sound bored with the whole affair.

“What does that mean? That you’re taking back your offer to help?”

“You just said you don’t need it,” she reminded him.

“All right, I lied.” He sighed in resignation. “You know I’ve never been any good at this kitchen stuff.”

She did indeed. Their marriage may have been brief, but it had lasted long enough for Beth to discover that Lucy and her mother had spoiled Charlie. He could barely put together a sandwich, let alone cook something on the stove.

“Maybe it’s time you learned,” she suggested with a lift of one eyebrow.

“You’re not going to leave me to feed a starving teenager by myself, are you?” There was a hint of a familiar smile, the one that had helped him cajole others into doing what he wanted.

She would be stupid to let it affect her. “Sorry.” She gave him an apologetic look. “I’m going to retire to my half of the boat. The air’s less aromatic down there.” When she started to walk away, his hand grasped her arm to stop her.

“Beth, wait.” Dark eyes met hers with an interest that made her breath catch in her throat.

“It’s been fifteen years. Don’t you think we should talk about something other than burned eggs?” he asked.

The feel of his fingers on her skin sent a tiny tremor through her. She slid her arm out from underneath his hand. “What do you want me to say, Charlie? That it’s good to see you again?”

“Is it?” She felt as if he studied every pore on her face, so intense was that gaze.

“No.” He winced and she immediately added, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”