his arms in those light blue gardening shirts he wore, she didn’t realize they’d feel so . . . well, thick.
Clearing her throat, she said, “Now, don’t dillydally. Let’s go.”
Charley gave a grunt and got to his feet. He limped to the back door. As they walked into his home, June was hit by the smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon toast.
The kitchen window had a perfect view of the very table where she’d been sitting. June wondered if Charley ever watched her, the way she watched him. According to Kristine, not everyone was as nosy as June but with this type of view, it would be insulting if he hadn’t taken notice of her once or twice.
“Shall we call the doctor?” she asked, since Charley was not giving her an ounce of direction.
He shook his head. “Not much can be done for a sprain. I think I’ll just sit for a while.”
June helped Charley limp into a dark room at the front of the house. It smelled like firewood and black licorice. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that the walls of this room were made of a dark cherry and the built-in shelves were simply crammed full of books.
“You read mysteries?” June was surprised. He’d said it, that day on her front stoop, but she hadn’t believed him. Charley Montgomery seemed like a war history type of man.
“All the time.” Easing onto a chaise lounge covered in faded gold velvet, he wiggled his foot and winced. “I think it’s a good real-life mystery that our neighborhood might have a crime ring.”
“One missing bucket does not constitute a crime ring,” June informed him.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I might just call the authorities.”
June’s heart skipped a beat. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She attempted to adopt an imperious tone, but her hands started to sweat. “I . . .” She cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t report a thing.”
“Well, we’ll see.” Charley eyed his ankle. “This was not how I expected to start my day.”
“No one ever plans for an accident,” she said. “That’s why they’re called accidents.”
Giving her a look, Charley reached behind his back and pulled out a few feather throw pillows. He made a move to put them under his feet.
“Stop right there,” June cried. “Charley Montgomery, you take off your shoes this instant!”
Even though this was not her home, she hated to see the man soil such a beautiful chair with muddy feet. If his wife were still alive, she would most certainly feel the same.
“Now, let’s just lift your foot up on these pillows,” she said once he’d removed his shoes.
When Charley struggled, June reached out and grasped his leg just above the ankle. She had not felt a man’s leg since Eugene’s and the sensation was quite strange. Charley’s skin felt warm beneath her touch, his wiry leg hair brushing against her hand. Quickly, she dropped his foot onto the pillow.
“I’m going to get you some ice,” June said, her voice strained. Walking toward the kitchen, she turned and shook her finger at him. “And don’t you move. If you need something to read, I’ll get it for you.”
“June . . .” Charley shook his head. “Has anyone ever told you that you are downright bossy?”
June opened her mouth to argue but then stopped. “Yes.” She smiled. “All the time.”
In the kitchen, she filled a bag with ice and wrapped it in a kitchen towel. “Put this on your ankle,” she instructed him. “I have to go run some errands. Will you be alright?”
Charley leaned back against the chaise lounge. “I’ll be just fine. June, thank you.” He smiled. “It’s been a while since I’ve had someone to take care of me.”
“Well.” June hesitated, her hand resting against the wood of the wall. Knocking the wood twice, she said, “Don’t get used to it.”
Thirty
Kristine awoke to the sound of Italian voices and the clatter of dishes. Climbing out of the cozy bed, she threw open the shutters and delighted in the damp morning air. It smelled like espresso and dust and history and motorbikes, which was so different from the stale, sprinkler-watered-lawn scent of the suburbs.
“Buongiorno,” she called to no one, spreading her arms out wide.
Glancing at the clock, Kristine rushed to get ready. She and Ethan had made plans to meet in the breakfast room at eight, then spend the day sightseeing. The Valiant luncheon wasn’t for a few days, and she reveled in the fact that her sole responsibility was to explore.