8. Elodie #2
I smiled at my little sister. “I think I might. Once we’re up and running, I just have to get tourists to step out of downtown and come see us.”
Helen’s deep-brown eyes flickered with mischief. “You could always talk to Callum.”
Of all the names in existence, she just had to say his.
“Oh, perfect,” I grumbled under my breath for only Kit to hear. “Let me just skip over there and ask my least-favorite person in town to help me.”
Kit snickered into her hand, leaning in. “Maybe if you flirt a little, he’ll cut you some slack.”
I gave her a look. “I’d rather eat glass.”
“Well . . .” Kit grinned. “That would be on brand for you since you are a farmer now, after all.”
I playfully stuck my tongue out at my little sister as Helen continued: “Cal has managed to make the Drifted Spirit one of the most popular destinations despite it not being right in town.” Her cheery words grated across my skin.
A disgusted scoff was out before I could stop it. “He’s the worst,” I grumbled, using my abandoned needlepoint to distract me. I didn’t know what his problem was, but the man seemed determined to treat me like the villain.
Kit made an obnoxious snort under her breath. I kicked her under the table as a sea of surprised eyes washed over me. I sat straighter in an attempt to cover my unintentional slip of the tongue.
Apparently I was the only one who could see Callum Blackwood’s horns.
Helen’s smile was unreadable. “I think I speak for all of us when I say, the Keepers are happy to help however we can.”
Murmurs of agreement filled the room as warmth and determination seeped into my soul.
There was no way I was going to fail.
After another hour of unsuccessful needlepoint practice, my fingertips had taken enough abuse, and Kit drove me home. The inn was quietly bustling as she rolled to a stop in front of my crumbling cottage before saying goodbye and disappearing down the road.
I looked up at my temporary home. Wes would soon be getting to work, patching up and replacing the rotting porch boards.
At least I wouldn’t have to worry about falling through it and showing my whole ass to Cal .
.. again. It would be nice when Wes and his crew made their way inside to spruce up the damp, dingy cottage.
I breathed in the night air and exhaled in a deep sigh. Home sweet home.
Or, at least, home for now. I was trying to stay optimistic about that part.
The farmland stretched out before me, silent and waiting. A hundred little decisions loomed in my mind, stacking like bricks. There was no turning back now—not unless I wanted to tuck my tail between my legs and admit I’d bitten off more than I could chew.
I straightened my spine. Not happening.
Darkness blanketed the farm, and even when I squinted, I could barely make out where the farm ended and the dunes began. Closing my eyes, I let the soft sound of rolling waves lull me.
A twig snapped to my left and my eyes flew open.
Was it the Lady? A murderer? Raccoons? Whatever it was, it was about to get a very aggressive lesson in personal space.
Instead of discovering yet another critter scurrying across the porch, a lanky shadow skulked behind my cottage.
“Hey!” I shouted into the darkness, masking my surprise with irritation. “Who’s there? You come out right now!”
My feet were swift as I stomped around the cottage. I grabbed a fallen branch as a weapon and held it like a baseball bat. After I hurried around the back, my feet stopped short.
A teenage kid had his hands stuffed into his pockets and was trying to get away. Not a ghost. Not a threat. Just a kid with the kind of posture that screamed, I don’t want to get caught, but I also don’t want to run because that would look suspicious.
“Stop!” I could hear a light scoff as he kept walking away from me. “I said stop !”
The figure stilled, slowly turning around as I yelled.
My fear instantly dissolved when I recognized his stern, mildly annoyed look. I tried to make out his features in the low lighting. “Hey ... are you Cal’s kid?”
The resemblance was unmistakable—same stubborn jaw, same broody energy, but with a little less permanent scowl.
His attitude melted, and a scared little boy stood in his shoes. “Please don’t tell my dad.”
My chest pinched. “What are you doing out here?”
The boy shrugged, but I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily. Instead, I waited him out. Finally, he kicked the dirt with the toe of his sneaker. “I was bored.”
“You were bored.” My jaw flexed. “You were bored so you thought you’d creep around people’s houses?” That logic had teenager written all over it.
The boy sputtered. “I wasn’t! I went for a walk down the dunes.” His arm lifted. “There’s a path that runs behind the cottage where the cliffs aren’t as steep. It’s easier to get to the beach that way.”
I looked over my shoulder at the small path worn in the grass. Some spots were so bare the sandy earth beneath it peeked through. “Huh.” I shrugged, dropping the tree limb at my feet and dusting off my hands. “Good to know.”
I shook my head at the well-worn path he was referring to. Something about the way he knew exactly where to go told me this wasn’t his first time sneaking out. “Do you come out here a lot?” I asked, tilting my head.
The boy hesitated, then shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Sometimes. There’s not much to do at the inn.”
I let that settle. Not much to do. It reminded me of being a restless teenager in Star Harbor, looking for something— anything —to make the small-town nights feel bigger.
I crossed my arms. “So I take it your dad doesn’t know you’re out here?”
The boy pulled in his lower lip and shook his head.
My lips twisted. “I should probably tell him.”
The boy’s eyes jumped to mine. “But?— ”
I raised my hand to stop him. “I should , but since you really weren’t doing anything wrong, I guess I don’t have to. Just be careful and head straight home.”
He nodded enthusiastically, seemingly relieved I wasn’t going to rat him out. I had no intention of getting the kid in trouble. Hell, I’d sneaked out to hang with friends at the dunes more times than I could count.
I watched the boy as he started making his way back toward the inn. It was clear he was Cal’s son and over time would likely take on his father’s impressive frame. If he was already sneaking out, Cal was going to have his hands full with him.
I should’ve let him go. After all, he was just a kid sneaking around where he wasn’t supposed to, and I’d been there, done that.
But as he turned, something about the sad, heavy set of his shoulders hit me square in the chest. That stubborn posture, the way his voice had softened at the mention of his dad.
I understood that feeling—the weight of expectation. The need to carve out your own space, even if it meant breaking a few rules.
“Hey, kid,” I called out. “Do you need a job? It might suck, but I will pay well. Really well,” I added to sweeten the offer.
It was an impulse decision, but I’d always trusted my gut. And right now my gut was telling me this kid needed something to keep him occupied that didn’t involve sneaking around in the dark like a little haunted Victorian child.
The boy’s shoulders perked up. “Yeah, sure.”
“Don’t you want to know what the job is?” I asked.
His shoulders bounced. “Not really.”
Yep. Definitely Callum’s kid.
A chuckle rumbled through me. “Fair enough. Come see me in the morning and I’ll put you to work. I’m Ellie, by the way.”
He lifted his hand. “Levi. And thanks ... for not telling my dad.”
I smirked. “Yet.” I pointed at the inn. “Straight home.”
Levi nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
I rounded the cottage, watching Levi all the way home to make sure he made it safely.
I had a good feeling about the kid, even if his dad was a growly stick-in-the-mud.
Levi might be a handful, but at least he was willing to roll with the punches.
His dad, on the other hand? He was an entirely different kind of challenge.