Chapter Three
Callie
It wasn’t that Callie hadn’t been expecting some animosity from Trey as soon as she’d learned he was staying in the library. And from the way Khaki had talked about him and how much time he’d spent on the island as a child, she had known the older woman had been very fond of him.
And though she’d been shocked to learn that Miss Khaki had left so much money and a beloved library to a mere acquaintance, once she’d given the matter some thought she’d realized it made some sense.
After all, she’d heard the hurt in Khaki’s voice when she spoke of how long it had been since Trey had called her.
And in the five years since she’d moved to Cincinnati to be closer to her daughter, Julie, and her grandchildren, Trey hadn’t visited her once.
For a man who’d professed to love his great-aunt, he’d had a poor way of showing it.
It had taken weeks of gentle persuasion from both Khaki’s lawyer and Julie for Callie to even consider accepting the bequest—which to her mind should have gone to Khaki’s daughter.
But Julie had insisted that she’d been more than happy to agree to her mother’s plans, especially since she was happily settled with her own family in Cincinnati and they had a beach house in Myrtle Beach, which was closer anyway.
But even so, Callie had only agreed to remain on the island for the year necessary to receive the money, reasoning that she could then sell the valuable beachfront structure and gift the proceeds to Khaki’s daughter for at least a million.
Probably more. With a charming little town situated in the middle of the island—it was the kind of upscale locale that could boast yoga studios, art galleries, and cafés s—it would be no trouble at all for a skilled real estate agent to tempt a buyer.
She certainly didn’t need an oversized beach house in a part of the country she had no desire to live in, no matter how much she wanted to put down roots.
Cincinnati was her home. And besides, giving the library to Julie once she was finished with her year here would assuage some of her guilt at receiving such a sizeable bequest from Julie’s mother.
But Trey didn’t know any of this. For all he knew, she had conned Khaki Boudreaux out of a fortune.
He seemed to assume the bequest had somehow been Callie’s idea.
But from where she was sitting, he wasn’t exactly up for great-nephew of the year.
As far as she knew, he hadn’t been to visit her since she’d moved to Ohio to live with Julie.
And Julie had made no mention that her cousin would be living here when she arrived.
So as far as she was concerned, if he remained here at all, it would be because of her generosity.
“I didn’t talk your great-aunt out of anything, Mr. LeBlanc,” she said with the human equivalent of a hiss from Stella.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I had no idea your great-aunt intended to leave me anything in her will.
Much less that she’d leave me money and this place.
If anyone has a right to be upset, I’d say it’s Khaki’s daughter.
Not some great-nephew who’s been living without her permission on her property, and who hasn’t even bothered to call her in almost five years. ”
It gave Callie no joy to see the color tinge his cheeks and the tops of his ears. She’d much rather have had him make an attempt to get in touch with Khaki before her death, so that both he and his great-aunt could have had some peace regarding their relationship before it was too late.
“My relationship with Khaki is none of your business,” he said tightly, the long-lashed brown eyes that had dazzled her when they’d met flashing with anger now.
“She was the closest thing I had to a grandmother and we understood each other. She knew I loved her. And I knew she loved me. And I had every right to stay here. Especially since she told me it would be mine when she passed. Which, by the way, is why I think—no, I know—you, Little Miss Librarian, must have done something to trick her into changing her will. Because that’s the only reason I can think of why a woman who was as loyal as the day is long and who put family above everything else would leave the property she treasured, because it was where she met Uncle Remy, to somebody who’d never even met him. ”
Every word that came out of his mouth made Callie hate this self-righteous jackass even more.
Not only was he so unwilling to admit any sort of fault in the breakdown of his relationship with the woman he claimed had been like a grandmother to him, but he’d also decided that since he was as pure as the driven snow, it must have been the librarian interloper who must be to blame. Hateful man.
“I don’t suppose it occurred to you that she decided to change her will because the great-nephew she loved like a grandson had stopped returning her calls. Or that she might have thought the best person to preserve a library was—wait for it—a librarian!”
Her hands were on her hips now, and if Trey LeBlanc knew anything about Callie, he would have known that was her fighting stance.
But of course this, this cork-brain (one of her favorite insults from years of reading historical romance) had no clue how to read Callie’s body language.
And she was glad for it. Because if he did, they’d have spent enough time together for that to happen.
And it was clear to her now that however good looking he might be, and how much Khaki might have held him in affection when he was a boy, he was just as unpleasant as she’d imagined a man who ignored a sweetheart like Khaki Boudreaux long enough to make her cry.
She’d never forget the day the older lady had teared up over his neglect.
Her own parents and grandparents had been gone for over a decade, but if she’d had a blood relative like Khaki in her life, she’d never have let a month go by without talking to her, much less five years. It was inexcusable to Callie’s mind.
Not that the man seemed to care what she thought.
“It’s not like this is the kind of library you’re used to,” he said snidely.
“There’s no story time for toddlers or lots of loud people for you to shush.
” He put his finger to his lips in a mockery of the old-fashioned librarian stereotype that was a bane to every member of the profession these days.
There was more to the job now than just keeping folks quiet and reading stories to little kids.
In fact, being a children’s librarian was a tough job that took a great deal of patience and drive, and if you weren’t especially talented at it, the children, not to mention their parents, would eat you for breakfast. She hadn’t been a children’s librarian herself, but even so, she doubted Terrible Trey had ever worked harder a day in his life than Callie had on her slowest day at the Cincinnati Public Library.
“And I suppose playing with power tools like you do all day has trained you for keeping up with this place and its collection of print materials?” she asked sweetly.
“You don’t even know there are any print materials here,” he said, not bothering to keep the mockery out of his voice. “For all you know I’ve sold all the books to an antiques dealer in New Orleans and used the money to buy drugs.”
She rolled her eyes at that. “Mr. LeBlanc, I might think you’re a lousy great-nephew and a prize ass, but I had to do enough training to be able to help addicted patrons during the opioid crisis to recognize the signs.”
“I didn’t say it was opioids I bought,” Trey retorted, looking like a little boy who had just gotten the upper hand in a playground argument.
But Callie couldn’t let it end there.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said with a mournful shake of her head. “I shouldn’t try to make you feel bad. Erectile dysfunction can happen to anyone.”
For a minute, he just gaped at her. Then he started laughing like she’d told the funniest joke he’d ever heard.
“Hate to break it to you, darlin’, but I don’t need a little blue pill to get hard.
Which I’d be happy to demonstrate to you if you weren’t here trying to steal my inheritance out from under me. ”
“Don’t be gross,” Callie said with a curl of her lip. “I don’t sleep with ungrateful jerks who break old ladies’ hearts.”
At her words, all amusement drained from him, and though Callie wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not, the sadness on his face didn’t look feigned. “You might not believe it,” he said gravely, “but I never meant to hurt Khaki’s feelings.”
He thrust one of his large hands through his dark hair.
“I was going through some stuff and—” He blew out a slow breath and shook his head as if to slough off his sudden attack of remorse.
“Anyway, that’s beside the point. You’re here.
And as far as I can tell, and according to my cousin Julie, you’re the one who Khaki left this place to whether I live in it or not.
But I’ve spent the last nine months putting everything I have—both sweat equity and a shit ton of my own money into this place.
So, I’m not going anywhere until I’m done.
I finish what I start. And hopefully, once you’ve had time to take a look at this place from top to bottom, you’ll consider selling it. ”
“Selling it?” Callie echoed. She’d been planning to give the place to Julie but hadn’t considered selling it herself. “I won’t be able to do anything with it until I’ve lived here for a year at least.”
“I don’t mean immediately,” he assured her. “After your year here is up, I’d like you to sell it to me.”
And before she could react to that pronouncement, he said with a smile that could charm the birds out of the trees, “Tell me which bags you want me to bring in for you. I know the perfect room for you. And if Stella is anything to go by, you’re both pretty worn out.”
Suddenly feeling exhausted all the way down to her toenails, Callie glanced around the room to find Stella, and once she had the cat in her arms, she followed Trey out into the hallway.