It's Always Summer on the Island

18. The Midnight Appetite

"Bonsoir, monsieur," Chastity greeted him at the front door, gesturing for Grayson to cross the premises with a grand sweeping of her arm through the air, bowing slightly at the hips as if royalty entered the Thorpe's abode.

Grayson raised his eyebrows in question.

Chastity yawned and shrugged. "She told me to say that. She's in the kitchen. I'm heading to my room for the night."

"Dream of me," Grayson teased, winking in her general direction as he kicked off his shoes and headed for the kitchen around the corner.

Charlotte perched on the kitchen island with an entire pie plate in front of her. She shoveled another bite of pie into her mouth and moaned sinfully. "You're late, you're late, for a very important date!" She exclaimed, sticking a stiff finger in the air with the authority of a scholar or professor.

Leaping onto the counter, Grayson swiped the pie off of the counter out of her reach and yanked her seeking fork out of her grasp. "Wow, looks amazing! Don't mind if I do!"

"Merde! Grayson, share! You're the sore loser anyways."

With regret, Grayson swiveled on the counter to place the pie plate between the two of them for shared gorging. He must have taken longer than he thought because Charlotte already put a sizable dent in the strawberry deliciousness. "I thought you had ice cream," he pointed out.

Charlotte shook her head, swallowing before speaking. "That abominable frozen custard place. I said I was..."

Grayson finished for her, "...too full." He nodded in understanding. "How was date number 382?"

Gasping dramatically, Charlotte jokingly jabbed the fork at him. "382?"

Smirking, he nodded. "Yeah, that many."

"Oh, you mean so few?" The fridge kicked to life, humming while Charlotte tossed her head back and laughed freely. Her long hair swept like a continuous waterfall down her back. She traded her stunning dress for matching pajama shorts and top. "No harm or foul in a little shameless flirting. They wine and dine me. Or...." She mulled it over. "They dine me, wishing they were wining me. Maybe then I'd be a little more fun. Or rather, they might be. Such a dud. The whole night dragged on so bloody long!"

"Plus a nightcap of custard," he reminded her, eating slowly so as not to overeat.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "We ran out of things to talk about so he goes on about college and what he thinks he wants to do with his life. It's terribly inconsiderate for such a boring bloke to droll on and on to a young lady about his life's endeavors, thinking she cares much about his heart's desires and not the dollar bills he shall or shan't earn. Middle class suburbia or Martha's Vineyard summer vacations? Volkswagen or Range Rovers?"

At this predicament, Grayson nearly spit out his bite. Only, the pie was too good to waste. "Good lord, Char. Raking the island for a prospective rich husband?"

Straightening her spine, Charlotte lifted her chin and announced, "Marry up! As Mummy would say." Reaching for the fork, Grayson relinquished his hold for her to take another bite. Charlotte munched on her bite while pondering the subject. Her dark lashes swept along her cheeks as she stared out the French doors to the back yard where the pool emanated a lonely and eerie blue glow. "Georgia's got the right idea though. I must admit she didn't go looking very hard. He fell into her lap rather. It was love at first site. After that, she saw the dollar signs." Charlotte shrugged her shoulders simply as if it were a fact of life that the Thorpe women married for money as much as love. Grayson didn't think Charlotte adhered to the same values despite her jesting. Either way, none of the Thorpe daughters would wont for anything with a hefty trust fund and lofty inheritance.