7. Elodie
SEVEN
ELODIE
I really wish he was ugly.
Even his scowl was attractive in an infuriating, punchable way. But in reality, it did make me feel less guilty for wanting to hit Cal right in his stupid, handsome face.
Didn’t matter.
Given the chance, I’d still like to get in a cheap shot, if it weren’t for the fact that I’d probably break my hand on that chiseled jawline.
Fuming, I turned away from him and stomped up the stairs. When my foot plowed through another rotted board, I stumbled, ass in the air as I fell forward onto all fours. Cal’s soft, husky laugh made my face turn hot.
I straightened, yanking the hem of my T-shirt and ignoring the cavern opening in my stomach. I shot a glare over my shoulder.
He’s not that handsome anyway.
The next day, still thoroughly irritated, I collapsed onto the floor of the living room, limbs splayed out like a chalky crime scene outline. If anyone found me, I’d tell them I was mourning the tragic loss of my patience—and the last remaining shreds of my dignity.
Despite what Cal Blackwood thought, I wasn’t some directionless mess. Sure, my track record was ... chaotic , but that didn’t mean I was incapable. He didn’t know a damn thing about me, yet he was so sure I would fail. That man was so certain that I would pack my bags and run.
A small, infuriated part of me wanted to prove him wrong.
Kit
Holy shit! What did you do?
I stared at my phone with a crease in my brow. Well ... any number of things, really.
Twisted my ankle and broke three nails trying to wade through the overgrown orchard.
Contemplated building a Cal voodoo doll out of straw and pure spite. Still considering that one.
Found a newspaper clipping of Cal, standing in front of the inn with a sexy scowl, and poked holes through his eyeballs.
Had a wildly realistic sex dream about the aforementioned grumpy neighbor who hates me.
Though, honestly, maybe I should just set up a damn boxing ring and settle this properly—because, apparently, by helping Stan, he thinks I stole something from him.
That was the kicker, wasn’t it? Cal didn’t just hate that I was here—he hated that I was standing in the way of whatever future he had envisioned for the farm.
I knew that look. He wanted it. Badly .
I frowned at the thought, turning it over in my head. Why?
For a guy who constantly looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, it didn’t make much sense. What did he want with a pumpkin patch and an overgrown orchard?
Kit
Literally everyone is talking about the farm! Are you losing your shit?
A heady zip tore through me. The social media post must have gained some traction with the locals. I quickly opened the app to check, and my phone nearly tumbled from my hand.
Not just some attention, lots of attention.
There were thousands of likes and comments under the photo of my muddy boots in the pumpkin patch. The page even had real followers.
I was officially losing my shit. If I was going to be a public spectacle, I might as well put on a show.
I dialed my little sister, and she answered on the second ring with a squeal.
Holding the phone from my ear, I grimaced, though a wide smile replaced it.
“Literally everyone is talking about it,” Kit said.
“I had no idea ...” I continued to scroll through the hundreds of comments.
“No going back now, huh?” She laughed.
“This is incredible.” I grinned as I scrolled. There was never an option to not do what I set out to do. “Do you want to hang out tonight? I heard there’s a band playing at the Lantern.”
“Can’t,” she said. “I’ve got a meeting with the Keepers.”
The historical society was 90 percent social club and 10 percent nonprofit organization. With a mix of old and young, being a part of the Keepers was a privilege, and somewhere deep inside me, I had missed connecting with other women.
“She is everywhere and she is nowhere,” I said with mock reverence, repeating the warning we’d heard over and over in our childhood. It was practically the mantra of the historical society.
We both giggled. Growing up in Star Harbor meant you were forced to live in the Lady’s shadow. Everything revolved around her and the legend. A few times I even bought into the idea she was real, but hard evidence of an apparition was hard to come by.
“The meeting starts in an hour, if you want to come. This month we’re working on needlepoint, but we just started,” she offered.
I didn’t know a single thing about needlepoint, but that wouldn’t matter. With a resolute nod, I grinned. “Save me a spot. I’ll be there.”
Without waiting to say goodbye, I ended the call with Kit and scrambled to my feet. A thrill ran through me. I’d missed this—the friendship, our community, the way Star Harbor wrapped around you whether you liked it or not.
After five minutes of scrubbing, I gave up on trying to get all the dirt from under my chipped nails. I slipped on a long, cornflower blue sundress and simple flip-flops. The summer sun was sagging against the tree line when I stepped onto the front porch and frowned at the empty driveway.
I really need a car.
With a determined nod, I turned myself around and kicked off my sandals.
It was only a couple of miles to walk into town, but a pair of sneakers would save my already aching feet.
After I changed shoes, I slipped the long strap of my purse over my head and headed in the direction of the main road.
As I passed the Drifted Spirit Inn, delicate instrumental music floated across the evening air.
I paused, taking in the gorgeous building up close. Set against the trees, its moody exterior was warm and inviting against the slashes of crimson-and-gold sunset. It was the kind of place that welcomed you inside, tempting you with the promise of a well-worn chair and a cracked-spine paperback.
Too bad its owner was such a thorn in my side; otherwise I might have let curiosity get the best of me and walk inside to poke around.
Instead, I filed it away as one more thing Callum Blackwood had ruined for me. Right between the peace and quiet of my own home and the universal appeal of a strong jawline.
With Cal’s brooding face flashing in my mind, I stomped away with freshly renewed determination.
I made it only a mile down the road before the overhead trees blocked out any remaining sunlight.
The air was warm, but thick with tension.
My ears pricked as I listened for any signs of life on the desolate road.
The only sounds were the soft thud of my sneakers against the pavement.
Everyone knew that traveling alone on any stretch of quiet country road in Star Harbor was risky. Generally speaking, the town itself was very safe. Crime rates were nearly nonexistent, but it wasn’t a lurking madman or criminal mastermind that had me nervously peeking over my shoulder.
It was a ghost.
She is everywhere and she is nowhere.
A chill tickled my back, and I pulled my arms around my middle.
Light was swallowed up by the swaying trees that lined the roadway.
My ears tuned to every creak and snap of twigs.
A rustle of leaves to my right formed a lump in my throat, and I locked my eyes ahead of me, refusing to peer into the darkened tree line.
“It’s a deer, or a mouse, or a stray cat,” I whispered to myself, refusing to let my imagination take over. My feet pounded against the pavement, and my legs burned as I quickened my pace.
Ahead, a soft yellow glow peeked through the trees. My eyes widened, struggling to adjust to the change as light slanted through the forest. The bend in the road obscured my view, and I couldn’t quite make out what I was seeing.
My jaw clenched as my blood cooled. With a sharp turn, the light flicked across my face, and I released my breath with an unsteady laugh.
A freaking car.
Not a vengeful spirit. Not a harbinger of doom. Just good old-fashioned internalized paranoia.
I chuckled again, feeling silly for thinking it could have been anything else. I stepped off the road onto the gravel shoulder as I continued walking. Instead of passing by, the truck slowed.
Without knowing who it was, I raised my hand in greeting. With my head high, I kept walking, but when I heard the vehicle stop, I glanced over my shoulder. White taillights flashed as the truck began to back up.
Curious, I stopped to look at the driver.
The window lowered and Cal’s irritated voice greeted me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Relieved and annoyed, I pasted on a slim smile. A snappy retort was on the tip of my tongue, but I decided I wasn’t going to let him sour my mood. Instead of engaging, I shook my head and started walking.
Cal’s truck reversed down the road, following beside me as I kept walking. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”
I scoffed. “Says the man going the wrong way down a curvy road.” I exaggerated the roll of my eyes and pinned my attention forward. If he wanted to wreck his truck because he was stupid, that was his fault.
With a frustrated grunt, Cal slammed on the brakes, then whipped the truck into gear. He pulled forward, turning in a wide circle to stop beside me.
He leaned across the cab of the truck, pushing the passenger-side door open. “Just get in.”
I weighed my options.
One: Be sensible, accept the ride, and avoid unnecessary ghost-related anxiety.
Two: Remain stubborn, walk the rest of the way, and risk becoming the next town legend.
I stared, hands on my hips as I fought reason and temptation. “Why?”
Cal stared out of the windshield. “Don’t make me drag you inside.”
Heat fluttered low in my belly at the way his words surprised me. I shouldn’t like the depraved mental image his agitated growl created.
Feeling defiant, I raised my chin. “That’s kidnapping.”
His mouth twitched like he was holding back a smirk, which only made my pulse misfire in protest. This man had no right being so annoyingly attractive while issuing threats disguised as favors.