CHAPTER SEVEN
CATHERINE
“Alright, Gin, let’s go!” I call, grabbing her leash off the hook by the door and slinging my purse, laptop and all, over my shoulder.
Four hours. Four hours of doom-scrolling, refreshing my email, spiraling, and getting absolutely nowhere. My aunt’s voice echoes in the back of my mind—take some time for yourself—and for once, I actually listen.
“A little sunshine won’t kill us,” I mutter.
Gin lets out a sharp, excited bark, nails clicking against the floor as she spins in a tight circle, her tail wagging so hard her whole back end wiggles.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ve been ready.” I laugh, crouching just enough to clip the leash onto her collar. “Hold still—”
She doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t.
It takes a second of fumbling before I finally get it latched. I stand, grab my keys, and pull the door shut behind us, the lock clicking into place with a final, satisfying snap.
The drive into town is short. Too short for my thoughts to settle.
Sunlight pours through the windshield in warm, golden sheets, heating my skin, but it does nothing for the restless, itchy feeling crawling just beneath the surface.
It’s been building since I got here, low at first, barely noticeable, but now it hums constantly, like static buzzing under my skin.
It has to be the weather. The coast. The ocean air. The pressure.
“The static electricity is just different here,” I say under my breath, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.
The words feel thin. False.
Like I don’t even believe them myself.
I park along the main road and kill the engine. The second I open the door, the world rushes in—the cool ocean breeze brushing my face, the distant crash of waves, and underneath it all…
Coffee.
Rich, dark, freshly brewed coffee mixed with the sweet scent of sugar. Warm baked goods, butter and chocolate and something sweet enough to make my stomach immediately perk up.
I pause for a moment, breathing it in.
Goddess, it’s so different here.
In the city, everything smells like concrete and exhaust and ambition. Like deadlines and noise and too many people packed into too little space.
Here…
It’s slower. Cleaner. Softer.
It smells like home.
The thought hits before I can stop it—and I immediately shove it away.
No.
I don’t get to think like that. Not when I’m trying to get back. Not when I’m supposed to be moving forward. I worked too hard for that life. I worked too hard for my degree. For my career. For everything I built.
And what do I have to show for it right now?
An empty inbox. A temporary stay. Memories of my past, and a dog who keeps stealing my lunch.
I press my lips together, shaking my head sharply.
Nope. Not doing that. We are not spiraling today.
Negative thoughts? Negative energy? Don’t have room for that. I need to be focused. Positive. Ready.
I need a job.
“Come on, Gin. Let’s go, girl,” I say with renewed energy.
Rounding the car, I open the back passenger door. She jumps out immediately, barking and spinning in a circle, her leash tangling around her legs in excitement.
“Okay, okay—hold still!” I laugh, trying to catch her collar. “Gin—seriously—”
After a second of chaos, I finally manage to get a hand on her.
“Sit.”
She drops instantly, like a perfect angel who wasn’t just trying to clothesline herself with her own leash.
“Good girl,” I murmur, scratching behind her ears. Her tail thumps happily against the sidewalk.
I straighten, adjusting my purse on my shoulder, and we set off down the street.
The sun is warm against my skin, a light breeze lifting strands of my hair as we walk. I find myself stepping around cracks out of old habit, like some superstitious kid trying not to break her mother’s back. Not exactly easy with Gin weaving back and forth beside me like she’s on a mission.
“Stay on one side.” I gently tug her leash.
She ignores me.
Of course she does.
The bell above the café door chimes as I push it open, and warmth immediately wraps around me—coffee, sugar, chocolate, cinnamon.
Comfort.
“What can I get for you today?” The barista looks up from behind the counter, her face lighting up with a bright, easy smile.
I glance at the menu, more out of habit than anything else.
I already know.
I am a creature of habit.
“Caramel macchiato,” I say, “with a double shot of espresso, and one of the chocolate-dipped croissants.”
My voice comes out smoother than I feel.
Normal.
Like I’m not unraveling bit by bit on the inside.
“Great choice.” Her fingers tap quickly across the screen. “Tourists come every season for our croissants.”
I know.
How many summers had I spent with Gran and Mom in this café, hands sticky with chocolate and hot cocoa?
I reach into my purse, pulling out my wallet—
“I never would’ve taken you for a sweet girl.”
The words slide over me like heat.
Low. Rough. Familiar.
My entire body goes still. A shiver runs down the back of my neck, warmth blooming in my chest so suddenly it steals my breath.
The barista’s eyes flick past me, over my shoulder, and her smile shifts into something knowing.
I don’t even have to turn around.
I know that voice.
I’ve heard it in my head every night since the ocean. Since strong arms pulled me under the surface and dragged me back into the air.
Since I walked away without thanking him.
Slowly, my fingers tighten around my wallet. My heart starts pounding like I’m back in the waves all over again.
“I’ve got her covered, Marigold. A welcome-to-town gift,” he says, and every instinct in me screams to look at him.
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it. You don’t have to pay for my coffee.” I pull a twenty from my wallet and hold it out to Marigold, but she just shrugs and looks past me at him.
“Would you like your usual, Elliot?”
Elliot.
The way she says his name makes something in my stomach curl—sharp, ugly, and suspiciously close to jealousy. I shove it down hard. I should not be jealous over this man. Even if he does have rock-hard abs. Even if he did pull me out of the ocean like some kind of coastal guardian angel.
Just another reason why I don’t belong in Crescent Cove.
“Yeah, that’ll be great,” he replies, handing over his card.
I lose the war with my patience and turn, planting my hands on my hips.
Beside him, Gin wags her tail like she’s just met her favorite person on earth, pressing against his leg as he scratches behind her ears.
“Wow. Traitor,” I mutter, glaring at her.
She only wags harder, tongue lolling out, completely unbothered.
“You don’t need to pay for my coffee. If anything, I should be paying for yours.” The words come out shorter, sharper, than I intend, and I press my lips into a thin line.
Why does being around him make my temper snap like a live wire?
Before he can answer, the espresso machine lets out a shrill, ear-piercing whistle. Steam bursts into the air with a violent hiss, and a second later the sink sprays water in a wild, uncontrollable arc.
Just like it did back at my aunt’s house.
Ice-cold water drenches all three of us.
Gin starts barking, spinning in frantic circles.
“Gin, sit!” I shout, but my voice gets swallowed by the chaos.
She bolts for the door.
The leash jerks tight, and that’s when I realize she’s wrapped it around my legs.
And around Elliot.
“Oh—”
We stumble forward at the same time.
He catches me.
My hands slam against his chest, solid, warm, unmoving, and the breath rushes out of me in a startled gasp.
For a second, everything else fades.
The noise. The water. The chaos.
All I can see are his eyes.
Deep brown. Steady. Too close.
He’s at least a head taller than me, easily over six feet, and from this distance…
It would take almost nothing for him to lean down.
Just a tilt of his head. Just—
Heat floods my cheeks.
“I—I’m so sorry,” I stammer, trying to step back, but his grip tightens for a fraction of a second before he lets me go. “I don’t know what got into her.”
He looks like he’s about to say something, his gaze flicking briefly over my shoulder toward the sink, where the water has finally died down to a weak, guilty trickle.
Goddess.
I must look like a disaster. Hair plastered to my face. Shirt soaked through. Dripping on the café floor.
What is wrong with the water pressure in this town?
“I’m so sorry! I don’t know what happened,” Marigold calls, her voice cutting through the moment as the world rushes back in—the hum of conversation, the clink of cups, soft music filtering through the air like nothing just exploded.
“It’s fine!” I quickly bend to untangle Gin’s leash from my legs.
“Here, let me help.” Elliot’s already grabbing our drinks and food from the counter. He nods toward the patio, sunlight spilling across the wooden tables outside. “We can sit out there. Dry off a bit.”
He leans in as he passes me, his breath brushing the shell of my ear, warm, close, dangerous.
“And you can tell me why you’re radiating magic like a nuclear star about to explode.”
I go completely still.
Just for a heartbeat.
My gaze flicks around the café, checking instinctively if anyone heard him. Not that it should matter. This is a town full of magic.
But still…
There’s no way that was me.
…Right?
My mind flashes back to the night at my aunt’s house. The water. The pressure. The feeling I couldn’t explain.
No. That’s not possible.
I gave up magic years ago.
Instead of saying any of that, I glance back at him over my shoulder, raising a brow.
“I thought we agreed we were even when you walked me home.”
One corner of his mouth lifts.
Of course he has a dimple.
“Oh, I must’ve forgotten,” he says easily. “Let’s just call this a friendly welcome-to-Crescent-Cove gesture.”
I narrow my eyes at him, suspicious, but I follow him outside anyway.
Because he has my coffee and croissant, and my hands are full controlling Gin, who’s darting back and forth sniffing everything.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.