A gentle breeze rustled the gum leaves overhead as she meandered down the sloping hill towards the boatshed. The sea was impossibly blue and still, and the early morning showed promise of a warm autumn day to follow once the crisp air was heated by the rising sun.

She approached the boatshed. Oh, this was madness. What was she doing?

‘Charlie?’ As she called out his name, apprehension rose in her. Yes, he was a safer option for company than Mandy, with all her questions and insight. And he was certainly safer than Danny, with his green eyes and heat-inducing touch. But seriously? This was what she was reduced to now?

Chances were he’d simply scream at her to go away.

‘You’re back.’ He grumbled as he opened the wooden door to the boatshed.

‘Yes. I wondered maybe … if you would like …’

His expression was unreadable. Come out with it and ask, or run away – her two options.

‘… I brought hot chocolate.’ She held up her thermos and smiled what must have been a ridiculous grin.

Charlie threw his arms open in an arc, inviting her into his grounds.

Nicole hesitated, only a moment, then moved through the gap in the fence. Charlie motioned to the eastern side of the boatshed.

The wooden bench glowed golden brown in the morning sun.

‘No!’

Nicole dropped her thermos.

‘You don’t get to sit there.’

He reached beside the bench and pulled out an old, collapsible deckchair. The blue and white striped canvas was stained and the wood faded, but it looked sturdy enough.

To her surprise, Charlie ducked back inside and pulled out another deckchair for himself and placed it a few feet away from hers. Why would he so lovingly care for a bench that he didn’t sit on? She could ask him, she supposed, but people didn’t go round taking care of a piece of furniture when everything else around was decaying. Not unless there was something deeply significant going on. And it was far too early to be digging into personal stuff. Another question for her notebook.

‘Would you like some?’ She picked up the thermos.

‘Hot chocolate tastes like mud.’

‘Still,’ she persevered. ‘Better than the cookies I tried to make.’

‘Humph,’ came the response.

They sat in silence, Nicole unsure where she could go with this impossible man. In the end, she resorted to cheap clichés.

‘It’s a beautiful day, don’t you think?’

A single nod in answer.

‘Do the winters get cold here?’ she asked.

A slight shake of the head.

‘I’ve heard midsummer can be brutal.’

This was met with a shrug.

‘Seems like a nice place.’

Another shrug.

‘How long have you lived at Rosella Cove?’

‘Long enough.’

Nicole smiled. She’d finally got an answer out of him. ‘Friendly neighbours.’

‘Humph.’