Chapter Eleven #2
Callum straightens at my sharp tone, following my gaze to where my dog stands with a guilty look by the gate. The gate that I left open.
“ Wait ,” I order, taking a tentative step toward him. “Plankton? Wait.”
“Is he not allowed out the front?” Callum asks.
“No. Not since you guys started working.”
I take another step and Plankton goes unnaturally still. “Don’t you dare,” I warn him, creeping closer. “Don’t you— Plankton !”
He’s off. With a speed that belies his age, he slips through the gap and heads straight for the driveway, only running faster when I chase after him.
My heart leaps into my throat, and I push my legs harder, following him to the front of the house.
He doesn’t usually do this. He’s a good dog. A grumpy dog, but a good dog. He isn’t a rule-breaker.
He’s just not used to his new life.
He had full rein of the place before work on the hotel started. And he never ran off. But with the increased traffic, we started locking him inside, and he got antsy. He doesn’t like being cooped up and lets us know this every time we don’t close the door properly.
A quick glance up and down the road shows it’s still empty and I race across it, only vaguely aware of Callum overtaking me as I launch myself into the dense shade of the forest on the other side.
“Plankton!” I yell, as I catch a glimpse of him through the trees. “You get back here right now, or so help me God you aren’t getting any more table scraps for the rest of your life. You won’t even— don’t move .”
I screech the last two words at Callum, who immediately stops.
Unfortunately, the speed he was moving at coupled with the wet earth of the forest floor, coupled with the universe hating me, does nothing to help him with this.
His arms shoot out as he tries to regain his balance, and I, of course, run straight into him.
We go down.
We go down hard.
My feet slide forward, and my ass hits the ground in a way I know is going to hurt tomorrow. Callum lands half on top of me, twisting at the last second so I don’t get crushed, but that just means he pushes himself farther into the sludge until we’re both covered in it.
I don’t so much as breathe for a long second, staring up at the canopy above me, and wondering what it would be like to simply abandon all my responsibilities and lie here forever, never to be embarrassed again.
“You dead?” Callum asks.
“No.” I wince, digging out a small rock from where it’s sticking into my back. “You?”
“No. And I don’t mean to be rude,” he adds. “But what the hell?”
“Sorry.” I plant a hand into the ground to push myself up, only for it to slide deeper into the mud instead. “Fairy ring.”
“What?”
I point a few feet ahead to where a ring of mushrooms peeks out among the fallen leaves. I forgot it was there until I saw Callum almost go straight through it.
“Oh.” He sounds more surprised than annoyed. “They take you or something, don’t they? If you step in it?”
“And force you to dance until you perish from exhaustion.”
“Well, joke’s on them; I’m a terrible dancer.” He eases himself into a sitting position, brushing mud from his hands. “Didn’t think you’d be the kind of person who’d believe in that stuff.”
I shrug as Gemma’s words spring to mind. No one believes it. But they don’t not believe in it either. “Granny kind of drilled it into me when I was younger.”
“Better safe than sorry,” he agrees. “But we should probably find your…or, you know, never mind.”
Plankton appears through the trees and pads our way, his tail wagging as though nothing’s amiss. Relief instantly shoots through me, almost overwhelming, and I hold out my arms.
“You can’t keep doing that,” I tell him, burying my face into his neck. I can feel Callum watching me, but I don’t care. Plankton wriggles in my hold to lick the side of my face, and I scratch him behind the ears until he’s leaning into my touch. Dumb dog. Dumb perfect dog.
“You’re in so much trouble,” I tell him, but we both know I don’t mean it. Callum smiles as Plankton turns toward him and holds out a hand for him to sniff.
“About earlier,” he begins, and I still, knowing exactly what he’s referring to.
“So, we’re actually never talking about that ever again?” I tell him. “That’s the rule of seeing someone naked when you weren’t supposed to.”
He grimaces. “I don’t like listening to music unless I’m severely damaging my eardrums. I swear I didn’t hear you come in.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not. I’m sorry.”
He sounds very serious. Serious enough that the lingering embarrassment I still felt starts to fade.
“It’s fine,” I sniff. “You just have to return the favor now.”
His eyes shoot to mine, and I quickly backpedal at the spark in them. “I’m joking.”
“I know,” he says. “I like it.”
Oh, God.
I grab Plankton’s collar, making a show of holding on to him as I get to my feet. “I need to get back to Granny,” I say, turning back to the road. “The good news is I was going to do laundry anyway. Though I guess I should—”
“Can I ask you for a favor?”
I glance back at him, brows raised. “No.”
He looks surprised. “No?”
“No,” I repeat. “No, you cannot ask me for a favor. You work for the enemy.”
“Well, see, that’s where the favor comes in,” he says. “I’m not my boss. I’m not in charge. And I’d like you not to look at me like I’m running the show here. Like this is all my doing. Because it’s not and you know it’s not, and it would be great if you stopped treating me like it is.”
“I don’t…” I trail off as he gives me a look.
I guess the man has a point. It’s the exact kind of thing I used to pester Nush about.
When she treated every guy on traffic light duty like they were to blame for what was happening.
I know Callum’s not. I just needed an outlet.
“What?” I ask. “You want a truce or something?”
“A truce sounds good.”
It was a joke, but he’s still deadly serious, sticking out his hand like we’re doing a business deal. I make a face.
“You’re covered in mud.”
“So are you.”
Point taken. We clasp hands briefly as I’m still holding tight to a now restless Plankton, but Callum smiles like I’ve told him he’s just won the lottery.
I show him the way back to the house, bundling Plankton into my arms as we approach the tree line. I’m glad of it a second later as a car speeds past just as we emerge.
“Has no one heard of speed limits?” I mutter, glaring after the shiny black Jeep only for the thing to immediately stop.
Uh-oh.
“Did I accidentally yell that?” I ask, as it starts to reverse. Callum curses under his breath, and I know why a moment later, when the car eases to a halt right next to us and the window slides down.
Jack Doyle sits behind the wheel, dressed in a suit and tie. The three of us stare at each other as he slowly takes in our muddied clothes and then Plankton, who’s now squirming in my arms.
“What did you— no,” he says, when Callum opens his mouth. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to know.” His eyes flick to me, his expression souring.
“Miss Collins.”
“Mr. Doyle.” I smile sweetly. “Destroy any livelihoods lately?”
“No, but I did create another fifty. There’s good news about the proposal,” he says to Callum, who’s gone very quiet beside me. “Get in. I want to catch Andy before he leaves and set up a call with Gerald. Let’s go,” he adds, when the man doesn’t move.
“Yeah, okay,” Callum says, sounding terse. “But remember what we talked about? About you being a little less you?”
I blink, surprised he’d talk to his boss like that. Though I guess I talk to Adam like that. But still.
Jack, however, doesn’t seem fazed by his tone. “I’ll take it under consideration,” he says. “Get moving.”
“Wait, what proposal?” I ask, and Jack reaches through the window, brandishing a piece of paper at me.
“Did you know there’s only one road in and out of the village?” he asks. “Not exactly great town planning.”
Plankton growls at the man as I step closer, and Jack eyes him warily as I examine the page.
It’s a map of Ennisbawn. I recognize it immediately, the curving street, the forest up ahead. Only in this one, one side of the village has been drawn over in red pen, drawing a completely new entry intersecting the original one.
Confusion clashes with horror as I realize what I’m looking at. “This will cut through the main street.”
“And connect you straight to the motorway.”
“But you’re going through at least three buildings!”
“Yeah. Empty ones,” he says, snatching the paper away when I go to take it. “Do you always have to look for the worst in everything?”
“Just because they’re empty now doesn’t mean they’ll always be.” The road was going to come in straight by Nush’s salon and looked like it was going to cut through John Joe’s garden entirely. “It completely changes the west side of the village.”
“I prefer the term improve.”
“But—”
“It’s just a proposal,” Callum says to me. “You’ll have plenty of time to launch an objection.”
“Callum.” Jack taps his watch. “Haste. Make it.”
Callum’s jaw tenses, and I almost think he’s about to snap at the man, when he turns to me instead.
“Tell Maeve I’ll pop around again,” he says.
“And sorry.” The last two words are low enough that only I can hear them, and he gives Plankton a rub on the head before rounding the car to the passenger side.
“Nice dog,” Jack says, before turning to Callum as he shuts the door with a little more force than necessary. “What?”
“You know what,” Callum snaps, and that’s all I hear as Jack closes the window and drives off.