26. Callum
TWENTY-SIX
CALLUM
You’ve got to stop stalking this poor woman.
That was the thought running through my head as I rolled to a slow halt in front of Star Harbor Farm, my fingers drumming against the worn leather of my steering wheel. I had places to be. Things to do.
But instead I sat there, watching her.
Again.
I had no damn business being there, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I owed her an apology. At the meeting with the Keepers, I had panicked. Without a plan, I had inserted myself, stomping all over Elodie in the process, and I had been beating myself up over it ever since.
Trouble was, I didn’t know how to explain to her that the only thing keeping me together was the prospect of the restaurant—something that she was standing directly in the way of. Still, my callous treatment of her at the meeting gnawed at me until I couldn’t stand to be away from her.
I knew my responsibility was back at the inn, fixing the busted latch on the back door, making sure the new guests had everything they needed, checking on the sourdough starter I had going in the kitchen.
I could have been occupying myself with any number of things that had absolutely nothing to do with her, but I found myself lingering at the edge of the farm.
I watched her like some idiot who hadn’t already made this mistake before. I was a fool who hadn’t already learned that wanting Elodie Darling led straight to trouble.
But trouble sure looked good.
She was kneeling in the dirt, wrists deep in soil, her brow furrowed in concentration.
Elodie was barefoot, because of course she was, her green rubber boots cast off haphazardly to the side.
Her legs were tucked under her, the curve of her calves dusted in dirt, her cutoff shorts riding up just enough to show sun-warmed skin.
The sun cast a golden glow over her shoulders, and when she lifted a hand to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear, my jaw flexed.
It should have irritated me, the way she got under my skin.
A part of me hated the way she made me notice things.
I shouldn’t be able to recall how she always smelled like vanilla and something softer.
I didn’t need to know the way she could light up a room just by existing in it.
It was none of my business that her determination was the most frustratingly beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Any other version of me would have been annoyed, but at that moment, I wasn’t.
Elodie, her sister, and her niece were working near the entrance—right beside the new sign. Freshly painted, clean and crisp, “Star Harbor Farm” was spelled out in a welcoming script, the colors bright against the pristine wood.
I sighed, raking a hand through my hair, cursing myself for stopping in the first place. But before I could throw the truck into reverse, my gaze flicked past her to the others—her family. Her mom and dad, her sisters—and Levi.
My gut twisted.
My son stood off to the side, shifting his weight like he wasn’t sure what he was doing there.
Elodie’s mom was talking to Levi, her voice warm and easy, and whatever she said made him stand a little straighter.
Levi’s shoulders squared like he was being given something real, a job that was simple, but important.
I climbed out of the truck before I could talk myself out of it, and the crunch of gravel beneath my boots gave me away. Levi glanced up, his eyes landing on me.
His expression flickered with something uncertain before he lifted his chin. “Am I supposed to go?”
Elodie’s mom turned to look at me, her green eyes crinkling at the edges. “Of course not, sweetheart.” She patted Levi’s shoulder with the same casual affection I’d seen her give her own kids. “We could use all the extra hands we can get.”
Levi brightened, just enough that I felt it in my chest.
I didn’t know what to do with that—with how easily they made room for him.
There was no suspicion, no hesitation, just .
.. warmth. Levi hadn’t had the luxury of grandparents.
Mine were across the country in my home state of Nevada, and Mary’s parents had been older, both passing away when Levi was an infant.
It was something I hadn’t even known Levi needed until I saw him stand a little taller, his hands tucked in his pockets like he was trying to be cool, but his face said it all.
He wasn’t used to this, and neither was I.
Something about the way they were with him—the way they welcomed him without an ounce of judgment—settled deep in my ribs .
He wasn’t a kid who got a lot of that, and it hit me harder than I was expecting.
Elodie glanced up from her spot in the dirt, watching the exchange with quiet interest. Her gaze flicked to me, eyes narrowing just a little, like she wasn’t sure what I was still doing there either.
Hell, if she figured it out, maybe she could clue me in.
Her mother’s voice rang out before I could decide whether to stay or go. “Since you’re standing there looking so capable, why don’t you make yourself useful and carry that crate of flowers over here?”
I turned, spotting the wooden crate filled with flower flats bursting with bright, heavy blooms. I determined part one of my apology could come in the form of manual labor.
A slow grin tugged at my mouth as I looked at her mother. “Was that a compliment, Mrs. Darling?”
“I’m just saying, a man with strong hands is a man who gets things done,” she said airily, lifting an eyebrow in a way that told me she might get under her daughter’s skin and have a little fun while doing it.
“Mom, please,” Elodie groaned. “I am begging you to stop flirting with my—” She clamped her mouth shut, her cheeks flushing pink.
“No, go on.” I leaned back on my heels. “Finish that sentence.”
She shot me a look that could have leveled a lesser man. “Neighbor.”
Mrs. Darling grinned, patting my arm like she’d known me for years. “I’m just saying, Callum looks like a man who could put those muscles to good use.”
Elodie let out a quiet groan, pressing her fingertips to her temples. “Mother, please. He’s the enemy, remember?”
Selene stifled a chuckle, shaking her head as she worked in the dirt.
I reached for the crate. “Where do you want it?”
“Right over here, handsome,” Mrs. Darling called, and I bit back a laugh at the way Elodie shot her mother with another murderous glare.
I carried the crate to where Elodie was kneeling, setting it down beside her.
“Your family always this much fun?” I muttered under my breath.
Elodie exhaled sharply, reaching for a trowel. “You have no idea. What are you doing here?”
“Trying to apologize.” My eyes traveled over her gorgeous face. “I’m sorry I jumped in at the meeting without having a conversation with you first.”
She swallowed, absorbing my words. “I do not accept.” Her cheek twitched as she fought a smile.
“That’s okay,” I whispered. “You will eventually.”
I crouched beside her, our knees brushing.
She smelled like fresh earth and something sweet, like vanilla sugar warmed by the sun.
When she reached for the trowel, I intentionally reached for the same one, my fingertips brushing over the back of her hand.
Sparks danced up my arm. She did too—I saw it in the way her breath hitched, the way she hesitated, her lashes flicking up just long enough to meet my gaze before she dropped them again.
I crouched, reaching for one of the flowers, gently loosening its roots. “You know, you’re doing it wrong.”
Her head whipped toward me, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”
I gestured to the plant she was about to stick in the ground. “You’ve got to rough up the roots a little first. Otherwise, they won’t root as well.”
She arched her brow, unimpressed, but still listening. “Since when are you an expert on gardening?”
I worked the soil between my fingers. “Since I was a kid. My mom loved to garden—vegetables, flowers, you name it.”
That gave her pause. Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to ask more about my childhood. Instead, she took the plant from my hand, mimicking the motion, her shoulder bumping against mine as she worked.
I could have pulled back, but I didn’t.
“Better?” she murmured, glancing up at me through her lashes.
Something low and tight curled in my chest. I cleared my throat. “Better.”
A small, sticky hand suddenly smacked against my knee. I looked down to find Elodie’s niece, Winnie, peering up at me, her face smeared with what looked like chocolate and an alarming amount of dirt.
“You’re still so big,” she announced, tilting her head like she was trying to solve a puzzle.
I arched my brow. “Yeah? And you’re still small.”
She gasped, eyes going wide with amusement. “I am small!” She grinned and turned to Elodie, tugging on her shirt. “Aunt Ellie, does Mr. Cal look bigger to you?”
Elodie bit her lip, her eyes full of laughter. “Hmm ... I guess that’s how growing works, Win. If we’re not paying attention, Mr. Cal might just keep getting bigger and bigger.” She gestured toward me. “Especially that big old ego of his.”
Winnie turned back to me, inspecting me with the same level of scrutiny she probably gave her stuffed animals when she decided they needed a checkup. “I think you could pick up a whole cow.”
“Really?” I smirked. “A whole cow? ”
She nodded, very serious. “A big cow.”
Selene chuckled from where she was kneeling a few feet away. “Careful, Win. If you tell a man he’s strong, he’ll start lifting random stuff just to prove it.”
Elodie grinned up at me, eyes full of mischief as she spoke to her precocious niece. “I mean, now I kind of want to see if he can pick up a whole cow.”
I shook my head, amused. “That’s not happening, Darling.”
Winnie gasped dramatically, her little hands flying to her cheeks. “You called her darling!”
I stilled, glancing down at her with a crinkle of my nose. “I did.”
Her little mouth twisted. “But that’s her last name.”