Page 24 of The Charm of You

Almost.

Even if she’s dressed more casually here, appearing more like she’s actually from this town, she’s the same hoity-toity Caroline Summers through and through. No number of fuzzy socks is going to change that.

She eyes me on the porch and runs a hand through her hair, like she’s hesitant and self-conscious. Like it’s a crime to lounge in her natural state at her own home.

“Look who stopped by, honey.” Mrs. Summers places her hand on Caroline’s lower back and nudges her my way until she stands in front of me. “Wasn’t it so nice of Austin to bring this dish over for his mother?”

She mumbles something incoherently and folds her arms across her chest.

“Oh! My phone is ringing. Be right back.” Mrs. Summers disappears into the house.

I’m too distracted by the breeze sweeping through Caroline’s damp strands to have detected any sound from inside the house.

Caroline, on the other hand, calls over her shoulder, “I don’t hear anything.” But her mom shuts the door, stranding us both on the porch.

Fantastic.

“Want to sit?” Caroline offers after a beat, but the twist of her lips suggests she’d rather roll around in mud than sit with me.

“Why? Are you going to force me to accept another apology if I do?”

“No. I have nothing else to apologize for.” The firm bow of her pink lips smooths into a curve as she seemingly fights a smile.

“You’re hilarious,” I deadpan. “You should add it as a special skill to your resume.”

“Resume?” She frowns and drops both arms to her sides. “Why would I need to update my resume? My resume is fine.”

“You’re saying resume a lot.”

A mask darkens her previously light and playful features, and my curiosity over the reason for the change bites at the stony edges of my heart.

“Do you need some water or something?” I ask, squinting at her.

“No. Do you?” She folds her arms over her chest again, but this time, she looks more like she’s trying to hold herself together.

“I’m not the one who’s making the same face Ida does when she sells me live bait from her husband’s shop.”

Caroline full-on grimaces, but it’s fleeting. Her angelic smile returns, and I can’t stop the pride swelling in my chest, knowing I put it there.

But that’s fleeting too. This woman is still the bane of my existence. The only solace I find is knowing she’ll be out of here by this time next week.

This town is just too small for both of us.

She peers over her shoulder and turns back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess that phone call was really important.”

“Probably my mother calling about their pottery class tomorrow.”

“I thought they had it on Wednesdays.”

“It’s on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

Her hum is soft and contemplative.

I hook a thumb over my shoulder in the direction of my truck. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Listen,” she starts, and it stops me in my tracks. “My mom mentioned you lost your dad in middle school, right before you moved here. Just wanted to say how awfully sorry I am. I lost mine when I was sixteen. If you ever want to talk, I’m a good listener.”

Tension furls between my shoulder blades, and I curl my fists at my sides. “Don’t do that.”

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