Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
EVIE
P lump, ripe red tomatoes stare up at me from the bushy plant. The warm spring air sends the distinct tang of plant life through the greenhouse. Pride ripples through me, and I bite on my bottom lip to tamp down the squeal of delight wanting out. I jump—just a little—on the spot. I did it!
I really grew the season’s worth of tomatoes.
I pluck the fattest one I can find and bite into its crimson flesh. Tomato juice spills past my lips, running down my chin.
Oh. My. God.
It’s incredible.
I tug another from the bush and sprint into the house. Callum sits on the sofa, radio in his hands, jotting down something in a notebook that looks like a record of some sort.
Coming to a halt in front of him, I all but wriggle out of my skin waiting for him to look up at me. Never before have I felt as much like a child waiting for a parent’s attention as I do now.
I let a little squeak slip, and his blue eyes glance up at me.
His face breaks with a chuckle as he slides the book to the sofa with the radio, and I drop into his lap.
“Close your eyes,” I breathe.
“Okay . . . why?”
“Just do it.”
I give him my best stern look. He shakes his head but closes his eyes as instructed. “What you got there, Evie baby?”
“Open your mouth.”
One eyebrow raises, but he opens up.
I shove the tomato in his mouth like a pig with an apple stuffed in its snout.
Cal’s eyes fly open as he tries to talk around the large tomato.
He looks ridiculous. I crack up, my hands palming his jaw as he tries to bite down.
His face pulls in all directions. I slap a hand to my mouth, laughter spilling from me in hysterical waves.
He finally bites the fruit in two, and one half falls to his lap. “Mmmm.” He chews, swallowing before he picks up the last half. “Your turn, baby girl.”
“Ah!” The tomato is stuffed between my teeth as I go to object.
Rough hands find my waist, tugging me closer. “I like you with your mouth full.”
My chest caves. I swallow the bites down, making small hums as he tugs down my shirt. His lips close over my hard peak.
“Cal,” I rasp, thumbing the overspill of juice from my bottom lip back into my mouth.
His head snaps back up. “Sorry, baby, we have plans this afternoon. You done writing?”
“Uh huh. Did you like the tomato?”
“It was delicious. Good girl.”
“It was my first season crop!” I shift on his lap as a thought crashes in. “My last, too.”
My first and my last. That sinks in as my gaze burns into his blues.
Something dark invades his eyes, and he shifts his focus to somewhere behind me. We sit in silence, our breathing too heavy as the words bury and take root. The sentiment stings.
“Maybe I could pot some in the living room of my apartment?” I say feebly.
His throat works, and I wish he would look at me.
But his focus clears, and he slaps my ass with a hand. “Up. We’re going to Iris’s.”
“We are?”
“Yep, she wants to talk about the house, repairs, costs, options, etc. Just in case the restoration society can’t be convinced. Which they probably won’t be.”
“Oh, sure. It’s been forever since I’ve seen Em.”
Cal rolls his eyes at me, and I pull a face. I like seeing him this way.
“Wear something nice. The festival is tonight. We’re going after dinner.”
Excitement burst in my veins. “Are you serious? Yes! I could use a night out.”
“Don’t get too excited. Bay Shore isn’t known for extravagance. Only low-key celebrations. Sometimes, if the budget allows, fireworks.”
“Don’t care. It’s going to be great. Are Iris and Em coming?”
“Of course, whose idea did you think it was?”
Iris, I love you!
I rush the stairs and am up in the bedroom tossing clothes on the bed before Callum can object.
Not that he would. The only thing he loves more than this falling-down old lighthouse is his little sister.
I toss jeans, too many tops, some flats, and a pair of boots onto the bed.
No, too warm for jeans and boots. Maybe a dress and boots?
Maybe a dress and flats? Ugh, I hate trying to pick clothes.
“I have nothing . . .” I whine to nobody.
After an hour and a half of trying on every possible combination of clothing I brought with me, I settle on a robin’s-egg blue summer dress with ruffle sleeves and a V-neck, its hem ending just above my knees.
I decide to go with short boots and pick out a yellow cardigan to layer up just in case.
It’s pretty, cool enough, and the extra layer will work well if I need it.
Using the few hours I have before late afternoon, I add to my word count. I hit the ninety percent mark following my new outline. Happy with the new direction, the words flow effortlessly. It feels right. When the knock on the bedroom door finally comes, I save my work and close the laptop.
“I’m going to have a quick shower and check the boat while you get ready, okay?” Cal says.
His expression is soft as his gaze studies my face.
“Yeah, sure.”
He rolls off the doorframe. I swear, that’s his favorite place to hover.
As the bathroom door closes and the water turns on, I stare out the window, trying to warm up to the idea of going back to the city.
It’s only a matter of days now. Just over three weeks until I have to have this book done and submitted.
Waves roll in, flattening on the beach side of the island with such effortless ease, it makes me wish I could stay here and learn their secret.
“All done. Your turn, smelly.”
A kiss dots to my temple when the man wrapped in a towel drips water onto my arm with his wet hair, taking me by surprise.
He’s stunning. All muscular and bearded. Blue eyes for days.
I swallow past my anticipated loss, at the thought of him being here alone again. “Won’t be long,” I manage.
I have a quick shower and blow dry my hair. After applying a light smatter of foundation, blush, and a little mascara, I finish with my berry-tinted lip gloss from my makeup bag. I haven’t used it since I arrived. It’s almost strange to get done up now.
My reflection makes me smile. With a small sigh, I slip my clothes and underwear on before fluffing out my hair over the shoulders of the dress and slipping my boots on. Downstairs, I find Cal at the kitchen counter, dressed in Levi’s and a navy button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up.
“Oh,” I utter as I take him in. Really in.
He looks up from the apple he’s cutting. “Christ, baby girl.”
Heat flushes my cheeks, as if it’s the first time he’s laid eyes on me. “You look nice,” I say.
Cal grunts, shoving a slice into his mouth.
He snaps it in half with his teeth as he studies me, eyes darkening by the second.
God, with that look, we will never make it off this floating rock.
Not that I’d be complaining—this man is incredible—but it’s been so long since I’ve done anything for fun.
“Ready?” I prompt.
Swallowing, he slides the rest of the apple slices into a ziplock bag and seals it. “Yup.”
He grabs his coat off the hook by the door, and I grab my bag, tossing my purse and new phone in for good measure. We walk in silence down to the dock. His gaze burns into the side of my face the whole way. I dip my head and will the tug-of-war in my heart to fade out of existence.
I’m leaving.
He asked me to leave.
My time here will forever be a marker of what I want. In a man. In my life, period.
Cal boards the boat and turns to me, extending a hand. I take it and step aboard. How far we have come hits me with a sucker punch.
I clear my throat and find a seat in the cabin as he casts off and pulls the fenders over the side. When the engine roars to life, I remember the overnight bag he had last time. “Bag?”
“Under the dashboard, baby. Extra toothbrush this time.”
I huff a soft, half-amused sound.
But my stomach is a tangle of knots and butterflies, and I don’t know which will win the battle for control. We cruise away from the jetty, and I stare at the open water, lost in thought.
Iris’s smile stretches her face. “Hello, come in!”
Cal holds the door for me, and his sister raises a brow at him. I try to hide the amusement on my face by wandering around the café. Much the same as last time I was here, it’s such a lovely spot. Quaint, homey, and inviting. An accurate reflection of Iris.
“Hey, Irry.” Cal messes up her gorgeous red hair with a rogue hand. She bats him away.
“Have a seat at the window table, I’ll grab the papers.”
I wander to the shelf with the photos. Now the fishing hut in the picture of Callum and his father is familiar. And I remember Em’s words. Doubt he’ll take you there.
He didn’t, not exactly, but we did live wild in that small hut for days.
He let me in. To his fishing hut, to his last connection to his dad, to his past with Ava, and to his strained relationship with this town.
That was where whatever changed between us grew roots. Found its foundation. I’m sure of it.
A foundation I’m going to obliterate in three weeks’ time.
“Come sit, Evie.” Iris pulls out a chair. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
This could be interesting.
I walk over and drop into the seat she pulled out at the head of the table. Her and Cal sit on either side of the weathered rectangular wooden table. A pile of papers and something that looks like an old-fashioned accounting ledger sit in the middle.
Cal slides the book over and flips the cover open, thumbing through pages until he comes to the one he wants.
“So just how famous are you, Miss Eve?” Iris asks.
The question takes me aback. “What do you mean?” I try to smile. But the knot of hope-infused butterflies from earlier petrifies and sinks.
“A fan of yours was in here this morning asking about you. He was so excited I knew you. He left this for you.” Iris glances at her brother before returning her gaze to me as she slides a cream envelope across the table.