by Lisa Carter
“I’m sorry, too.” She touched his lip with the tip of her finger. “Don’t flip your car again. Okay?”
“Lesson learned.” One glance at the staircase and he groaned. “Whose bright idea was it to put the bathrooms on the second floor?”
“I’ll help you and then scrounge up something for you to eat.”
His arm around her waist, she helped him tackle the stairs, one painful step at a time. At the landing, he stopped to catch his breath.
She frowned. “Maybe we should go back.”
The afternoon sun spilled through the stained-glass window, a shimmer of blue, red and purple across her features. Bathing them in light.
He shook his head. “I’ll take it from here.”
She pushed her glasses to the bridge of her nose. “But Charlie—”
“I got this, Shaw. Stop hovering.”
He seized the railing and hauled himself upward. He stole a look over his shoulder. She waited on the landing behind him, arms outstretched as if she aimed to catch him if he fell.
What she failed to realize, however, was that he’d already fallen. Hard. For her.
* * *
Evy didn’t move until he made it to the top of the stairs. She held her breath, willing him to make it. He winked at her and disappeared inside the bathroom. She heard the squeak of a faucet, then the gushing torrent of water from the shower.
In the kitchen, she perused the contents of his pantry and rooted inside the cabinets for a skillet. She kept one ear cocked toward the ceiling, half afraid the next sound would be a thud.
But everything appeared normal as she scooped coffee grounds into the coffeemaker. As the fragrant aroma permeated the air, the faucet overhead creaked off. A few minutes later, a phone rang somewhere. The familiar Bonanza tune.
“Hey, Mom.” His deep voice carried through the ceiling. “I’m fine. Really.”
Evy mixed the batter. Turned on the range. Waited for the skillet to get hot and then poured in the mixture.
All of a sudden, she realized she hadn’t detected any sounds of life from Charlie in a few minutes. Her pulse quickened. Was he okay?
“Evy!” he shouted from upstairs.
Leaving the skillet, she raced out of the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs. His hair still wet from the shower, Charlie stood on the landing. In a pair of gray sweatpants and wearing a much laundered maroon T-shirt.
She ran up the stairs, closing the distance between them. “What’s wrong?”
He looked at his bare toes and up at her. “Could you help me the rest of the way? Please?”
She twined her arm around his waist. “Did you hurt yourself? Are you dizzy?”
He smelled good. Soap and the indefinable essence that was Charlie.
“No.” He leaned into her. “I just missed you.”
She let go of him. “You are so pathetic, Charles Pruitt. I ought to push you down the stairs myself for scaring me like that.” But she feathered a lock of his hair off his forehead.
He captured her hand and brought it to his lips. She quivered. He looked way too appealing.
She’d always considered herself a woman of uncommon sense. But right now, sensibility warred with sense. And sensibility was winning.
Evy gulped. That T-shirt fit him so well. Did amazing things for his muscular build. It wouldn’t do to tell him so. It would only inflate that already oversize ego of his. Squeezing his hand, she moved a safer distance away.
He smirked at her. With that lazy air of his as if he understood exactly what he was doing to her.
Charlie’s face scrunched as he lifted his nose in the air like one of Seth Duer’s bird dogs. “Is that cinnamon I smell?”
“Oh, no.” She skipped down the stairs. “It’s going to burn.”
* * *
Charlie followed at a slower pace. Fought through the pain. He forced his limbs to move despite the overwhelming urge to quit. Like he’d learned in his football days.
Don’t give in. Never quit. Keep moving forward.
His aching muscles would thank him tomorrow. The more he moved now, the less stiff he’d be in the morning. Still, tell that to the pounding in his head.
When he walked into the kitchen, something stirred inside him at the sight of Evy flipping pancakes on the stove. He eased one hip onto the bar stool.
“Didn’t know you could cook. I take my meals on the road. Hence my firsthand acquaintance with most of the restaurants in the area. And for the record, cops and doughnuts aren’t an unfounded stereotype.” He perked on the stool. “Is that coffee I smell?”
Evy snagged the coffeepot. “No thanks to you and your well-honed powers of distraction, but I managed to avoid burning the pancakes.” She poured coffee into a blue ceramic mug. “Drink.”
She pushed the mug across the granite island. “Jolene says I have to monitor you for signs of concussion. You’re not allowed to sleep for twelve hours. So you’re stuck with me inventing ways to keep you awake.”
He wrapped his hand around the warmth of the mug. “That sounds promising.”
“You should be so fortunate, Pruitt.”
He silently agreed as he took a sip. “You make good coffee.”
“Thanks. I wield a mean wok, too.”
“Uh.” He inched higher to inspect the contents of the frying pan. “That’s not Chinese, is it?”
“No, although Mrs. Chan taught me everything I know.”
Evy slid the spatula under the pancakes and plopped them into a stack on the plate. Squeezing a sandwich bag, she drizzled white glaze over the steaming pancakes.
She finished by making a smiley face with the icing. “There.”
He dug his fork into the stack. “Fancy.” He opened and closed his mouth around the bite. He chewed.
“Cinnamon-roll pancakes, my version of comfort food.” She kneaded a dish towel with her hands. “I couldn’t find any syrup. Mrs. Chan usually drizzled agave over mine.”
“Don’t need syrup. This is fabulous, Evy. Thank you.”
She favored him with a sweet smile. “I’m glad you like it.” She pivoted to the stove. “There’s more if you’re still hungry.”
What he liked was seeing her in his house. So natural. So right it took his breath.
In marrying Honey, Sawyer Kole had done him the biggest favor of all time, Charlie belatedly realized. Leaving him available for when God brought a certain librarian into his life.
After he ate his fill—he insisted Evy eat something, too—he also insisted on helping her clean the kitchen.
“House rules. Whoever cooks, the other does the dishes.”
“Really?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She gave him a fond look. “You Southern boys and your manners.”
Propped against the sink, he rinsed off the plates. “We aim to impress.”
As the afternoon became evening, it wasn’t only his mother who called. His siblings called, too. At least, those not on an aircraft carrier. The phone nearly rang off the hook.
Reverend Parks. A slew of church ladies promising casseroles. Suppertime—and his prospects for home-cooked meals stretching into next week—was looking good.
After the last phone call, his shoulders drooped, and he decided to take a load off his feet by sitting on the sofa.
Evy gave him the once-over. “You’ve worn yourself out.”
He leaned his head against the upholstery.
“Don’t you dare close your eyes, Charles Pruitt.”
His eyes flew open.
She wagged her finger. “You’re not falling asleep on my watch.”
His lips quirked. “Entertain me, then, Shaw.”
She fiddled with the frame of her glasses and blushed.
He grinned. It never got old. Pushing Hula Girl’s buttons.
She gave him an arched look.
He moistened his lips. “How about reading aloud the rest of Northanger Abbey? Don’t want to get behind for book club.”
She brightened. “I can do that.”
Retrieving the book from the kitchen, she took the cushion next to his. She opened the book and found the bookmark where he’d stopped reading. At the end of every chapter, she asked him questions to make sure he was awake.
“You have the loveliest reading voice, Miss Shaw.” He smiled. “Quite pleasing.”
She eyed him over the top of her glasses, which had slid down on her cute little nose. She turned a page. “You are one of the good guys, Deputy Pruitt.”
He pretended to polish his knuckle on his shirt. “What we have here, ladies and gentlemen, is a mutual admiration society.”
She laid the book across her lap. “Could I ask you something?”
His lighthearted mood vanished. “You can ask me anything. You can trust me.”
“I know I can trust you.” She slipped off her shoes and tucked her legs under her. “Despite seeing you in the parking lot of the grocery store yesterday with Honey.”
Charlie’s gut twisted. What did she know? With that sharp brain of hers, what had she already guessed?
He feared how Evy would react to learning about what he’d done behind her back. “Go ahead and ask.”
But what she asked wasn’t what he expected.
“What happened between you and Honey Kole?” She smoothed her skirt over her knee. “If it’s not too painful for you to tell me, I’d like to understand why she married Sawyer and not you.” Evy dropped her eyes. “I know how much you love her.” And she drew herself into a tight little ball. Shrinking into the pillow cushions.
He reached for her hand. “Stop that. Look at me.”
Evy’s eyes were a breathtaking blue behind her glasses.
“You don’t need to do that. Not ever again. Not with me.”
Her mouth trembled.
Charlie held on to her hand, refusing to let her slip away from him. Physically or emotionally. “For the record, I’ve come to realize over these last few weeks I never really loved Honey, not in the way you mean.”
Evy sat so still, like she was holding her breath. He wished she would say something. When she didn’t, he tried to put into words what he’d felt then and what he knew now.
“We dated in high school. Everyone, including me, figured we’d be married with the requisite two-point-five children.”
Evy released his hand and put a throw pillow between them. “So you two were the golden boy and girl of the Eastern Shore, but things didn’t work out as you’d planned.”
He made a face. “I wouldn’t call us golden...”
“Were you or were you not captain of the football team?”
He hunched his shoulders. “Well, yes.”
She lifted her chin. “Both of you homecoming king and queen?”
“Yes,” he grunted.
She pursed her lips. “You are a classic overachiever.”
He cocked his head. “Said by a woman with multiple degrees who also speaks four languages, including English.”
She shrugged. “Five, but who’s counting?”
“I am.” He stared at her. “What’s the fifth?”
“Italian. Study abroad. Junior year.” She fluttered her hand. “But let’s get back to you.”
He grimaced. “Let’s not.”
“Voted most likely to—”
“It’s not the way you make it sound.”
“Then tell me how it was.” She crossed her arms around the pillow. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive.” She fretted at the pillow fringe. “I’m sorry she broke your heart, Charlie.”
“Honey Duer may have hurt my pride. But I realize now, she never broke my heart.”
From the skeptical look on her face, he could tell Evy wasn’t sure she believed him. Fair enough. The last four years he’d acted as if Honey had broken his heart.
She tossed the pillow aside. “Then what’s with you and Sawyer?” She inched close enough for Charlie to take hold of her hand again.
Charlie swallowed. “I admit it was hard to set aside my pride. Especially in a place like Kiptohanock, where everyone had known us since we were kids. We were friends a long time. Before he came along.”
“But what do you have against him?” Evy opened her hands, palms up. “He’s a great guy.”
“Did you learn nothing from Jane Austen, Evy? Appearances can be deceiving.”
Her expression closed up. “Like how?”
Apparently steel wasn’t a characteristic only of Southern magnolias.
“That first summer at the Kiptohanock Coast Guard station, everybody knew Sawyer Kole was trouble. He lived hard before he came to Kiptohanock. And he played hard, too. Drove Honey up and down the Shore in that flashy car he used to have. He was such a loser.”
Evy went rigid. “That’s not fair.” She snatched her hand out of his grasp. “He’s not a loser.”
It galled Charlie how she always defended Sawyer.
“You weren’t here, Evy. Seth Duer and her sister Amelia, were beside themselves.” Charlie gritted his teeth. “And then, like the loser he is, he dumped her.”
“Poetic justice for you.” She glared. “His loss, your gain.”
Charlie’s teeth ached from clenching his jaw. He struggled to keep the vow he’d made after the accident. To give Evy space. And the benefit of the doubt.
But as his head pounded, he fought a losing battle to not interrogate her. To discover once and for all why she cared so much about Sawyer Kole.
“If you’re implying I was glad he hurt Honey, you’d be wrong. But I was happy to see him reassigned off-Shore.” Charlie glowered. “Before he dragged Honey into whatever sketchy hole he crawled out of.”
Livid, Evy jumped off the couch. “What do you know about what he’s had to overcome?” The pillow fell to the rug. “What would someone like you with your perfect, idyllic childhood know about someone like him?”
Charlie’s mouth tightened. “What would you, Evy?” He struggled despite the pain to a more upright position.
She gestured at empty air. “No matter what you say about him, it’s obvious he makes Honey happy. Her entire family loves him.”
If anything was obvious after this conversation, it was how much Evy cared about Sawyer Kole. Charlie inhaled, waited for his pulse to steady.
With effort, using the armrest for support, he clambered to his feet. “That’s now. The Duers say he’s changed.” Charlie wobbled, unsteady. “When Kole returned, he rode to Honey’s rescue in the middle of a hurricane. And the Duers forgave and forgot. I’m not sure I buy it.” He squared his shoulders. “I sure haven’t forgotten.”
Evy stood toe-to-toe with Charlie. Not yielding an inch. Nor retreating from her unqualified devotion to Sawyer Kole.
“Why is it you find it so hard to trust, to believe the best in people? People can surprise you.”
He scowled. “People surprise you all right. Every day. And not in pleasant ways.”
“Why won’t you believe people can change? Open your eyes, Charlie. See him, really see him, with those children. And with Honey.”
“Open your eyes, Evy.” He barely managed to avoid raising his voice. “What is it you think I do for a living? I don’t rub shoulders on a daily basis with people at their best and brightest.”
He raked his hand over his head and flinched when he lifted his arm. “Case in point.”
“Let me get this straight.” She somehow got in his face. All five-foot-three inches of her. “So if you never trust, then nobody can ever disappoint you again.”<
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He cut his eyes at the ceiling. How had this become about him? “You got it.”
Evy’s mouth flattened. “Must get kind of lonely from that exalted position from which you view the rest of us less-than-perfect humans.”
Charlie towered over her. “Why do you feel this completely undeserved and overwhelming need to defend Sawyer Kole’s good name?”
He wanted to kiss her so badly. She, who wanted nothing from Charlie but friendship. Maybe after today, not even that.
The yearning in Charlie’s heart intensified. “Why do you feel this bond with Kole?” He’d gone far beyond pride now. “You practically gush every time he talks to you.”
Confusion darkened her eyes.
The ache deepened. “I saw you with Sawyer on the steps of the library yesterday. And I see how you look at him,” he whispered.
“Oh no, Charlie.” She took his hand in hers. Her skin felt so cool, so good against his. “You’re wrong about me. And him.”
How Charlie wanted to be wrong.
She let go of his hand. “I do love Sawyer.”
The oxygen went out of his lungs. Her words cut worse than splinters of glass. Charlie staggered.
Evy caught hold of him. She cradled his cheek in her hand and bit back a sob. “He’s my brother.”
Chapter Twelve
Evy was relieved finally to tell her secret to Charlie. Somehow when she wasn’t looking, Charlie Pruitt had sneaked past her defenses and taken residence in her heart.
He’d gone quiet at her news. She wasn’t sure what to make of his silence. But Bernie and Dixie arrived, bringing dinner from Miss Jean, a friend of his mom’s. The Ritz cracker chicken casserole was good. Evy thought she’d ask for the recipe.
With Bernie and Dixie putting the kitchen to rights, she told Charlie about Sawyer’s offer to help her get over her fear of riding.
Charlie let out a breath. “I’m still trying to process everything you told me.”
She bit her lip. “I can understand this must come as a shock.”
Charlie cupped her cheek. “Will I see you tomorrow?”