21. Callum
TWENTY-ONE
CALLUM
I am not drunk enough for this.
Elodie was barefoot, her sandals long abandoned, weaving her way down the sidewalk with all the grace of a baby deer on ice. Her wrap shirt had come untied at some point, billowing out behind her like the damn Lady of the Dunes herself, to reveal the sheer lace of her bra beneath it.
My jaw locked, heat flashing through me in a way that was both completely unwelcome and entirely unavoidable.
Elodie was attempting to walk down the sidewalk with two older female companions from the bar. She swayed, a loose-limbed kind of stumble that sent her straight into one of the older women, who caught her with a laugh.
But I wasn’t laughing.
My eyes dragged back to her, to the way she was completely oblivious to what she was putting on display, to the hungry looks from a couple of drunk assholes lingering outside the Lantern.
A sharp, possessive edge swirled in my gut. She had no clue—no clue what kind of attention she was drawing, no clue how easy it would be for someone to take advantage of her like this.
One of the men nudged his buddy, nodding in her direction, and something primal snapped in my chest. I stepped forward without thinking, my entire body coiling tight as I stared him down.
Say something. Just say something so I have an excuse.
The guy must have sensed it, because he looked away real quick.
Smart.
Elodie had no clue how badly I wanted to haul her against me and cover her up—because if anyone was getting a view of what was mine, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be them.
She was still grinning when her gaze lifted, locking onto me. Her smile faltered for half a second, her brows knitting like she was trying to piece together why I was here, and why I was following.
“Mr. Blackwood,” she breathed, swaying slightly before propping a hand on her hip. “Are you stalking me?”
She squinted, blinking slowly, like she was trying to force her brain to connect the dots. Then her lips parted in dramatic realization. “Oh my god,” she gasped. “You are . You’re totally obsessed with me.”
I crossed my arms, leveling her with a look. “I’m making sure you don’t face-plant in the middle of Main Street.”
She huffed, but there was no real heat behind it. “That’s sweet, but unnecessary. I have Rose and Betty.”
“It’s Sheila,” the dark-haired woman corrected, lips twitching with a smile.
Elodie gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “No.”
“Yes,” Sheila deadpanned .
She turned to Rose, eyes wide. “Did you know about this?”
Rose patted her arm. “We were going to break it to you gently.”
Elodie looked around like she’d been personally betrayed. “Since when?”
Sheila let out a delighted cackle. “Since birth, sweetheart.”
I ignored them. “Where’s Kit?”
Elodie blinked, then waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, she’s fine. She went home with her own bad decisions.”
I muttered a curse, raking a hand through my hair. Of course she did. Kit was a handful in her own right, but at least she was capable of getting herself home without stripping down to her underwear in the middle of town.
The three of them were linked at the elbows, a drunk, giggling tangle of limbs as they swayed down the street. Elodie wasn’t the only one whose clothing was coming undone.
Rose was wearing a lace-trimmed camisole and what looked like a slip instead of an actual shirt, and Sheila—well, Sheila had completely ditched her blouse and was parading down Main Street in a leopard-print bra like it was a Mardi Gras parade.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Where the hell are your tops?”
Sheila flung her arms out, nearly taking Elodie down with her. “Too restrictive. The universe wants us to be free.”
Rose clapped. “Preach.”
“You guys.” Elodie gasped dramatically. “I love you.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Elodie,” I ground out, already feeling the headache brewing, “where exactly are you going? ”
She turned in a slow, exaggerated circle, as if that might help her find the answer. “The Drifted Spirit Inn.”
I stared at her.
“ Your inn,” she clarified, like I was the idiot in this situation. “They’re staying there, so we’re walking together.”
I looked at Sheila. She nodded. “Yep. Girls’ night!”
I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “You’re not walking anywhere like this.”
Elodie pouted. “Why not? My legs work just fine.”
I gestured broadly. “Because this is not walking attire.”
Sheila shimmied her shoulders. “Oh, honey, don’t act like you’re mad about it.”
My jaw flexed, heat creeping up the back of my neck when I thought about Elodie. I wasn’t going to admit they had a point, but for the sake of what was left of my sanity, I needed to get them all out of public view before half the town saw this shit show.
I rubbed a hand down my face. “All right, let’s go, ladies. I’m driving you.”
It took way too much effort to wrangle all three of them toward the park and into the cab of my truck.
Rose climbed in first, taking over the passenger seat, but Sheila took one look at the setup and declared, “Oh, sweetheart, I need leg room,” before crawling, ass in the air, over the seat and into the back.
Which left Elodie with the middle seat next to me, practically in my lap.
She wiggled, trying to adjust, and I tensed as her thigh pressed firmly against mine. She leaned forward, her nose inches from the side of my face as she looked me over.
She was too close. Too warm. Too damn tempting.
The worst part was that she didn’t even realize what she was doing to me. The way she sighed, content, like sitting beside me in the truck was the most natural thing in the world.
Like she belonged there.
My hand flexed against the steering wheel, fighting the urge to touch her, to pull her closer instead of keeping her at a distance.
“You’re so tense , Callum,” she murmured, her voice full of tipsy amusement.
I swallowed hard, gripping the wheel until my knuckles went white.
Yeah, sweetheart. No shit.
My attention flicked up and Sheila grinned at me through the rearview mirror. “Oh, this poor boy is struggling .”
I put the truck in gear and focused on the road.
Get them home safely.
I ignored the fact that Elodie smelled like vanilla and tequila and something softer, something that always seemed to remind me of her.
I ignored the fact that I could still feel the ghost of her head on my shoulder from the night before.
I ignored the way her breath was warm against my neck.
I gritted my teeth.
Just get them home.
By the time I got Sheila and Rose safely deposited into their rooms, Elodie was slumped against the passenger door, blinking slowly, like she was trying to remember exactly where she was and how she got there.
“El,” I said softly, nudging her shoulder.
She blinked up at me, then beamed a smile like it was the first time she was seeing me that night. “Hey, you.”
I sighed. “Come on, Darling, let’s get you home. ”
She hummed, stretching like a damn cat, her open wrap top slipping farther down one shoulder.
I turned away in an attempt to be respectful. Without looking, I adjusted the shirt to cover her breasts.
Her cottage sat in the darkness, just beyond the inn, the stretch of cedar fencing between them a quiet reminder of boundaries—ones I should have been paying more attention to.
Elodie was already attempting to climb out of the truck, her balance not great, and I didn’t have time for smart choices. Before she could face-plant into the gravel, I scooped her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back.
She gasped as I pulled her from the cab and into my arms. “Callum!”
Instead of protesting, she curled into me, fingers fisting in my shirt, her breath warm against my throat. “ Mmm. You smell good,” she murmured.
I swallowed hard. “You smell like tequila and bad decisions.”
“Those are my two favorite things.” She hummed a chuckle and her hands roamed. “You know, I like the muscles under all that grump.”
I bit back a groan. She was not making this easy.
I grunted. “Unless you want to wake up tomorrow with road rash, just hold on to me.”
She curled against me with zero argument, and fuck , I felt that everywhere.
When I reached the property line, I muttered a curse under my breath as I stared at the fence. “I’m the idiot who fixed this damn thing, and now I’ve got to haul you over it?”
She nuzzled her face against my shoulder, completely unbothered .
I sighed. “Of course you don’t have any complaints now.”
It took some maneuvering, but I managed to get us over without dropping her, which was a damn miracle.
I carried her up the porch steps, nudging the door handle with my elbow. It swung open without resistance—unlocked, just like I figured—before I kicked it shut behind me.
Wes had completed the interior renovation—keeping it simple and functional. The kind of renovation that made it livable, but nothing more.
It was Elodie that had made it beautiful. When I had been inside before, I was more concerned with getting her naked than really taking it in.
Soft, golden light spilled from mismatched lamps, casting shadows that made the place feel warm and worn in.
The furniture was secondhand, but she’d thrown knit blankets over the backs of chairs, covered the scuffed coffee table with books.
There were fresh flowers on the kitchen counter, some kind of lavender scent lingering in the air.
Elodie made things better.
I shouldn’t be here.
Ignoring the thought, I carefully carried her to the back bedroom and sat her down on the bed. When I went to move away, she fisted my shirt and whispered, “Why are you doing this?”
I swallowed hard, brushing a loose curl from her face. “I want to apologize in the only way I know how.”
Her lashes fluttered as she battled sleep. “Apologize for what?”
For being an asshole. For not resisting the pull between us. For my kid burning down your barn.
I wasn’t even sure why I felt the need to apologize and make things right with her. All I knew was that she deserved it.
I stayed quiet, pulling back the comforter and sheets. Carefully, I guided her legs into the bed.
Ellie snuggled into her pillow without resisting. “You’re apologizing by tucking me in?”
I smoothed my thumb across her cheekbone, my throat tightening. “Yeah, something like that.”
Her smile was slow and sultry as her tequila-soaked gaze wobbled on mine. “You could stay.”
I froze. Her eyes were half lidded, her fingers curled loosely against my chest. I knew I should go.
I knew.
Instead, I left her in the bedroom and stalked toward the kitchen. I filled a glass of water and rifled through a few drawers before finding some Tylenol. I placed the glass and tablets on her nightstand, setting them within reach. Elodie’s breaths were heavy, and her eyes were closed.
Then, before I could change my mind, I toed off my shoes and slid onto the bed next to her. The second I lay down, she burrowed into me, her warm breath hitting the side of my throat as she pressed her face against my shoulder.
My pulse thundered. This is a very bad idea—I should definitely go.
But then she sighed against my skin, fingers curling into my shirt like she didn’t want me to leave, and suddenly I didn’t want to either.
I exhaled, my fingers slipping through the tangle of her hair, grounding myself in the feel of her. I shouldn’t have let it happen—I knew better. I’d told myself a hundred times this meant nothing, but my heart called me a liar every time she was close enough to touch .
Elodie shifted, her lips brushing the edge of my jaw, her voice a sleepy murmur. “You’re thinking too much.”
I huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh. “Is it that obvious?”
She made a soft sound, her fingers tightening on my shirt. “Mm-hmm.”
She sighed, losing the battle for sleep. “I need to figure it out. For her.”
“What?” I frowned, looking down, unsure what she was talking about. “For who?”
Her lashes fluttered. “The Lady.”
Before I could ask what she meant, she was already lost to sleep, her fingers still curled in my shirt. I had a dozen more questions but instead of asking, I held her and let myself pretend, for just one night, that I wouldn’t have to let her go.
Elodie stayed curled into me, warm and soft, unguarded in a way that made something tighten in my chest. I wanted to believe this was real, but I knew better than to hold on to things that weren’t meant for me.