that it was almost black, matching the stubble on his cheeks and trailing down his neck. It was a nice neck. And I had never been into necks. Suddenly, it was a body part that demanded more of my attention.
What did Chuck’s neck look like? Not a clue.
I had the urge to hold my hand over the phone and explain to this man that I’d been to a funeral, and that Chuck had been the one to break up with me. I wasn’t the jerk here, just trying to help him move on. But that wasn’t likely to endear me to Hot and Grumpy Fisherman, who could have chosen any spot on the wide stretch of beach rather than within earshot of my phone call.
Which was still going on. I turned away and focused on the voice, which now sounded hurt, coming through the phone.
“You’re right,” Chuck said. “I’m sorry. I just thought you might need a friend.”
I should apologize and thank him for calling. I could do that. But the last thing I wanted was to string him along. He may have been the one to break up with me, but I didn’t know many guys who would break up with someone and then keep calling. Not unless they were hoping to get back together.
“It was thoughtful of you to call. But you don’t need to be my friend.”
Okay, that came out much worse than I meant it. I swore that I heard Hot and Grumpy Fisherman make a snorting noise. Nice neck or no, he still should have found a spot alone on the stretch of beach not within hearing distance of this painfully awkward phone call. Forget Hot and Grumpy. He was just Grumpy.
I glared, but he was casting, the zip of the line over the water drawing my attention. There was something beautiful about the way the fading light caught on the line, and how it arced over the water before the hook disappeared beneath the surface. There was also something beautiful about the way the muscles in his arms flexed.
Dang it, Clementine. Look. Away.
Chuck’s sigh dragged me back to my phone. “I guess this is goodbye,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”
Was it what I wanted?
Chuck and I had been good together at one time. He was a great guy, the kind you hold on to. The kind you marry.
But the panic hitting my brain at that thought of marrying Chuck gave me clarity. I didn’t want to date him. I definitely didn’t want to marry him. I needed to let him go.
“Goodbye, Chuck.”
As I hung up over his protests, my phone began buzzing almost immediately in my hand. I saw Dad flash across the screen. I waited until the third ring to answer, unsure if I was ready to take on another conversation. I’d already screwed up one. With an audience too. His eyes might be on his fishing line, but I suspected from the stiffness in his neck and the angle of his head that Grumpy Fisherman was still listening.
“Hello, Dad.”
“Clementine!” He sounded so cheerful that it was shocking he’d been at the same memorial I had. Then again, he and Nana hadn’t been close. But still. He knew that she and I had been. “How are you?”
He was really asking this right now?
“I’m about as you might expect.” My voice was tight and thin. I couldn’t help it, even as I saw the man fishing give another slight shake of his head. I took a few steps away, then came right back. I didn’t want him listening, but I didn’t need to move for him. He could move.
“Listen,” Dad was saying. “Nadia and I are going to stay for a bit.”
“You’re going to stay here?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. It’s a great time of year, and Nadia has some time away from the fitness studio. She wanted to explore the idea of teaching beach yoga classes.”
Of course, she did. I found myself massaging my temple with my free hand. “Don’t you have classes to teach? It’s the middle of the semester.”
He chuckled. “I appreciate your concern. But I’m on a research sabbatical through the fall studying linguistics and island peoples. I can work anywhere there’s Wi-fi.”
I braced myself for him to dive into his research. Dad might not have been great at asking about my personal life, but he could go on for hours about whatever he was studying or teaching. His tendency to geek out was just one more thing that