13. Callum
THIRTEEN
CALLUM
The next three weeks blurred together in a haze of working long days, waking early, fixing things that always seemed to be breaking, and trying to forget Elodie Darling existed altogether.
It wasn’t working.
I told myself I was busy. That I had better things to think about. That I didn’t have time to sit around stewing over a kiss I shouldn’t have let happen in the first place.
But damn it—I felt that kiss everywhere.
It was in the restless energy that coiled in my chest every night, in the way my fingers tightened around my coffee mug each morning, like holding on to something solid would keep me from thinking about the softness of her in my hands.
My jaw tightened whenever her name was brought up. Anytime Levi mentioned the farm, my fists clenched. A slow, burning heat crawled up my spine whenever I caught a glimpse of her across town, talking too close to someone who wasn’t me.
I was officially losing my mind .
It wasn’t just the kiss. It was the way she had smiled against my mouth, like she’d known that kiss would happen all along. The way she had melted into me, fingers twisted in my shirt, like she belonged there.
I was a grown man—a logical, practical man. I had been through war zones, trained to fight in the worst conditions imaginable. I knew how to compartmentalize, how to keep my emotions locked down where they belonged, so why the hell couldn’t I get her out of my head?
It wasn’t like I wanted her. Not really. I just wanted to stop the urge to kiss the smug look off her face. To stop remembering the way she tasted like honey and heat and recklessness.
Every second I spent not thinking about her was followed by a second where I was gritting my teeth, telling myself I wasn’t thinking about her.
I tried drowning it out with work. Fixing things that didn’t need fixing, running until my lungs burned, but it didn’t matter.
My mind still went back to her—uninvited and unstoppable, like a song I hated but couldn’t stop humming.
I wasn’t usually the kind of man who got rattled. I didn’t lose sleep over things I couldn’t control. But Elodie? She had sunk beneath my skin like a sliver, impossible to ignore and impossible to remove without drawing blood.
I was torn from my brooding by a low, scratchy yowl.
The sound scraped against my patience like nails on a chalkboard. I ignored the catlike groans at first, shifting my focus to the busted railing I was reinforcing on the porch. Another yowl. A little closer this time.
I sighed, tightening the drill in my hand.
Then came the third—long and drawn out, like something from a horror movie.
I dropped my head back. “You’ve got to be kidding me. ”
I turned, and there it was. A scrappy, battle-worn menace of a cat—patchy fur the color of old rust, one ear half torn, and a single gold eye that gleamed with the kind of knowing patience only a creature who had survived some serious shit could possess.
Its fluffy tail twitched playfully, like it had been summoned by the universe to personally test my patience. One golden eye blinked up at me in blatant expectation.
For a beat we just stared at each other.
It yowled again, even louder this time.
“No.” I pointed the drill at it. “Absolutely not.”
The cat tilted its head. Blinked. Then it proceeded to take a slow, deliberate step forward.
I scowled. “Don’t even think about it. You are not welcome here.”
I tried to swat in its general direction, but it took another step.
I set the drill onto the porch. “I mean it.”
Another step.
Jesus Christ.
I narrowed my eyes, leaning forward. “Do I look like a cat guy to you?”
The scrawny furball hopped onto the porch, then sat, curling its tail around its feet like it had all the time in the world, letting out a massive, jaw-cracking yawn. The cat yawned like my presence was boring it to death.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face and looking around in disbelief.
The cat just blinked again and licked its paw.
I considered my options. Shooing it away didn’t work. It appeared immune to my scowls. I certainly couldn’t ignore it—not when it was sitting there like some furry omen of my inevitable downfall .
I settled for intimidation.
Straightening, I took a slow, deliberate step forward, boots scuffing against the wood. The cat didn’t move. Another heavy step. Still nothing.
Fine.
I crossed my arms over my chest, leveling it with my best military-grade frown. “Go away.”
The cat stretched, arching its bony spine, and then—just to really drive the knife in—rolled to its back, belly in the air as both arms and legs stretched out, like it had lived here its whole damn life.
Unbelievable.
“This isn’t happening,” I muttered. I had survived worse things than this—literal battles, fistfights, near-death experiences, but apparently my greatest adversary was a cat with one eye and an attitude problem.
The cat rolled back to its belly and flicked its ears, unimpressed with my surly attitude.
I exhaled sharply, looking past it toward the property line and the unmistakable sound of trucks, tires grinding against gravel, engines running too close to my property.
I would have to deal with my furry, uninvited guest later.
I stepped off the porch to peer down the roadway, my already sour mood turning downright lethal.
There was a line of work trucks—on my road.
Freshly irritated, I clenched my fists as I watched another truck roll to a stop in front of the inn. I didn’t need a sign to know who was responsible for this particular headache.
By the time I got close enough to see her, Elodie was at the end of the roadway, clipboard in hand, hair windblown and wild, and looking like she hadn’t a care in the world while chaos unfolded around her.
She was thriving, while I was losing control. I probably should have turned around. Should have let her deal with whatever mess she was creating, but I couldn’t.
Because now she was messing with my business, and for the first time since she showed up, I was entirely out of patience. Elodie Darling was encroaching.
Again.
I’d spent the last three weeks avoiding her, but now she was forcing my hand.
“Fine,” I muttered, shooting one last glare at the cat. “I’m dealing with this right now.”
I stalked across the front yard, boots kicking up dirt, frustration stinging in my chest.
The sun was still high, beating down on my back. The scent of cut grass and summer flowers mixed with the breeze rolling in from the lake. The air smelled like home, and I hated that it felt different now.
Because of her.
Because of this.
The smart move would have been to keep my distance, but instead I was marching toward trouble, shadowed by an unwanted cat hot on my heels. I glanced down at the cat, who looked like it was heading into battle alongside me.
“This is probably your fault,” I said gruffly. “I just know it.”
The cat didn’t disagree. I shook my head and suppressed a smile. I wasn’t its friend. I wasn’t feeding it. I wasn’t keeping it. I sure as hell wasn’t naming it.
When I reached the property line, I didn’t slow my pace. “Darling,” I called, voice sharp.
She turned, shielding her eyes from the sun. And then— of course—she grinned, wide and welcoming. That sweet, slow, sunshine-smothered smile sent something dark and restless moving through my stomach.
“Good morning, Callum.” Her voice was all light and pleasant, like we were friends. Like she hadn’t spent the past three weeks haunting my every waking thought. Elodie arched a brow, tilting her head. “A little early in our relationship for sweet nicknames, don’t you think?”
I crossed my arms. “That’s your last name, isn’t it?”
“It sure is.” Her grin widened. “But when you say it like that, Cal, it almost sounds like you’re sweet on me.”
I ignored the warmth spreading low in my stomach and kept my arms crossed. “What the hell is all this?”
“Oh, you know.” She gestured vaguely at the mess she was creating. “Just a little facelift to the entrance.”
I narrowed my eyes. It was too close. She was too close.
“This road is supposed to stay clear,” I said. “You’ve got trucks blocking access to the inn, and if they keep cutting through, it’s going to screw up the entire driveway.”
She tilted her head. “So what I’m hearing is that you don’t like the road being messed up?”
I exhaled slowly. “That’s exactly what I just said.”
Elodie made a thoughtful noise, crossing her arms and nodding. “Right. Interesting.”
I frowned. “Interesting how?”
She bit her lip, looking entirely too amused. “Just ... you know. I was expecting you to say something more dramatic. Like, ‘Elodie, you’re ruining everything’ or ‘Elodie, I can’t stand you’ or maybe even?—”
“Elodie,” I gritted out, my patience hanging by a thread.
She grinned. “Ah. There it is.” Her laughter was easy, effortless, and worse—it was nearly contagious .
My lips twitched, and I killed the impulse immediately. There was no way I was giving her that win.
The morning sun hit the golden strands of her hair as she shifted her weight. The hem of her shorts rode up just enough to?—
Damn it.
I needed to get my head on straight. I shook her from my thoughts, taking a slow breath, and dragging my focus back to why I was here. “I need the road cleared.”
“Mm. I don’t know.” She tapped a finger against her chin. “That sounds like a you problem.”
My jaw ticced. “It’s a problem for everyone using this road.”
Her smile didn’t waver. “That’s funny, because last I checked, that was your bed-and-breakfast and my farm. Two separate businesses, remember?”
I inhaled through my nose, hands curling into fists. “ Stan’s business is causing my business problems.”
Elodie’s gaze flicked to my hands, then back to my face. Her own expression softened, just slightly. “I get that this is hard for you.”
I scoffed. “This?”
She nodded. “Yeah. The whole ... me succeeding thing. It must be tough.”
My teeth actually ground together. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” she mused, “here you are. Again .”
She was baiting me. I should have turned around and left.
But she was standing there, all bright eyes and flushed cheeks, the heat from the morning pressing around us, making the air thick and heavy.
And for one terrible, fleeting second, I remembered what it felt like to kiss her.
Did she think about it too?
I didn’t know what was worse—the fact I’d lost sleep over a kiss or the fact that Elodie seemed completely unfazed by the whole thing.
My pulse pounded.
She tsked. “So grumpy. You know, that’s not a good look for tourism.”
Before I could fire back, another voice cut through the tension.
“Ah, good! You’re both here.” Breathless, Helen strode toward us, clipboard tucked under one arm, an eager glint in her eye. “Callum, I’ve had three guests complain that they can’t get up the road. Some trucks are blocking the path—it’s a mess out there.”
I pinned Elodie with my best I told you so look, and she had the decency to look remorseful.
“But what I also needed to tell you both is that the Keepers are hosting the Ghost of Star Harbor walking tour again this year. We’ve got nearly triple the sign-ups, and we’re inviting local businesses to participate—advertising, handing out brochures, that kind of thing.
” She turned to Elodie. “Star Harbor Farm could be involved ... get a little free advertising.”
Elodie’s smile widened. “I’d love that.”
I wanted to walk away, but instead I heard myself saying, “The Drifted Spirit Inn will be there too.”
Elodie turned, brows lifted in amusement. “Really?”
Helen beamed. “That’s fantastic! The inn would be a perfect last stop on the tour.” She turned to Elodie with a wink. “Everyone could get an early peek at the farm too.”
I had no idea why I’d just agreed to that. Apparently self-preservation had left the chat, because the last thing I needed was another excuse to be around Elodie .
“We’ll be ready.” The confidence in Elodie’s voice was unmistakable.
Helen turned, pausing to smirk at me before she headed in the direction of the inn.
The cat—my unwanted shadow—rubbed against Elodie’s leg. She sucked in a surprised gasp, crouching down to greet him—or ... her?
It.
“I didn’t know you had a cat!” Elodie’s voice rose several octaves. “Oh, come here, little baby.”
She scooped it up like a newborn, letting it rest against her chest as she nuzzled into its scraggly fur.
“Hey, sweet girl,” she cooed. “You’re so cute.” The full force of her smile was beaming at me. “Is she yours?”
I scowled. “No.”
Elodie’s smile deepened as she continued baby-talking to the cat. “Your daddy is so grumpy. Don’t let his mean scary looks fool you. I think he’s a big old softie. If he’s mean to you, you come tell me and I will yell at him for you. Oh, what a sweet baby.”
With an exaggerated eye roll, I turned on my heel, stalking back toward the inn.
Elodie’s laughter followed me, along with the cat, prancing at my side.
I wanted to let it go, but as her laugh curled around me, warm and light as summer, I had the sinking feeling that—like the damn cat—she wasn’t going anywhere.
And worse—I didn’t hate it.