CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CATHERINE
Elliot smirks at me from across the booth at Toast and Tides Diner, fingers steepled under his chin. “Oh?” His mouth curves slowly. “You admit you are trouble now?”
“I think you established that after I nearly drowned myself in your pool.”
“Correction.” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “You nearly drowned me too.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks as flashes of that night flicker through my mind. His hands on my waist. His mouth on mine. The feeling of his body beneath mine in the water.
Dangerous. Very dangerous.
Elliot studies my expression carefully before the corner of his lips tilt upward.
“There she is.”
“What?”
“That look you get when you’re overthinking.”
“I do not have a look.”
“You absolutely do.” He reaches out and taps the space between my brows. “Right here. Tiny little wrinkle.”
I swat his hand away. “Stop looking at my face so hard.”
“Can’t help it.”
My stomach flips traitorously.
He says things like that so casually, like he doesn’t realize what they do to me.
Or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Probably that one.
To distract myself, I hop up to refill my bowl of water at the sink. I set the bowl on the table beside the others and slide back into the booth.
“So besides harassing sea life professionally, what else have you been up to?”
His grin widens instantly.
“Well, next week is the annual Crescent Cove beach volleyball tournament.”
I snort. “You actually play tournament beach volleyball? I thought you just meant recreational like you throw the ball around in the sand over the net with your bros and call it volleyball.”
“Excuse you.” He presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’m very athletic.”
“You’re a sea lion. Swimming doesn’t count.”
“We won last year.”
“We?”
“My team.” He nudges me lightly with his foot. “You should come watch.”
“Oh, I don’t know…”
“C’mon.” His voice drops into a shamelessly persuasive tone. “There’ll be food trucks. Music. Local vendors. You can sit there and admire my incredible athleticism.”
“I think your ego might need its own zip code.”
“And yet you keep hanging out with me.”
Unfortunately true.
I focus very hard on lifting the water again so I don’t have to answer that. I didn’t like practicing by myself, let alone with an audience, but Elliot insisted I needed to learn to control my magic in public and that the owner, Maverick, wouldn’t mind if we made a little splash.
Beside me, Elliot watches the floating stream arch gracefully between the bowls.
“No explosions,” he says proudly.
“No explosions,” I echo.
His smile softens into something warm enough to make my chest ache.
“See?” he murmurs. “I knew you could do this.”
His phone vibrates, and he holds up one finger.
“Elliot here. Mhm. Yes. Okay, I’ll be there.”
He hangs up and reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “I hate to do this to you, but there’s an emergency on the pier.”
“I thought you weren’t on call this week.” I swirl my fork through my half-eaten strawberry and blue cheese chicken salad, pushing a walnut through the raspberry vinaigrette.
Across from me, Elliot winces apologetically.
“I’m not, but this is an all-hands-on-deck emergency.” He checks his phone again as it buzzes for the third time in two minutes. “One of the fishing boats found an injured dolphin tangled in netting. They need everyone.”
Concern immediately replaces my disappointment.
“Oh no. Is it bad?”
“Hopefully not.” He shoves his phone back into his pocket and pushes to his feet. “But I should get going before they send a search party for me.”
“I suppose saving marine life is an acceptable excuse,” I tease lightly, even if his sudden absence already leaves an ache in my chest.
His grin softens into something warmer.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you, little Wren.”
The nickname curls around me like warm ocean water.
Little Wren.
My traitorous body reacts instantly, memories flashing through my mind—the moonlight beach party, his hands on my waist in the pool, the rough scrape of his stubble against my neck, the way he’d looked at me like I was something precious and dangerous all at once.
The bruise on his cheek from fighting Chase had already faded. I liked to think my attentive icing and “nursing” had helped, though it was probably just shifter healing.
The memory of sitting in his lap on his armchair, holding an ice pack to his face while he shamelessly flirted with me every thirty seconds, makes warmth bloom low in my stomach.
He leans down and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “Don’t miss me too much.”
“No promises.”
“That’s my girl.” His dimples flash wickedly. “You can have my dessert.”
Before I can recover from my heart trying to beat out of my chest, he waves toward the counter.
“See ya on the flip side, Rick!”
Maverick snorts from behind the register.
Then Elliot’s gone out the door in a rush of sunlight and salty ocean breeze.
And just like that, the booth feels too empty.
I’d eaten hundreds of meals alone before moving back to Crescent Cove. Entire years’ worth of takeout containers balanced on my knees while answering emails at midnight.
But somewhere between fake dating and swimming lessons and magic practice in his kitchen, Elliot Fitzgerald had quietly become part of my routine.
Part of my day.
And his absence settles heavy in my chest.
I stab another strawberry slightly harder than necessary.
That’s when Brody Braxton walks through the door.
Of course he does.
A blonde woman with impossible curves and enough cleavage to cause a public safety hazard clings to his arm while he swaggers inside like he personally owns the entire town.
Great.
Instinctively, I sink lower in the booth and snatch up the menu, pretending to study the specials with sudden, life-altering interest.
Maybe if I hide long enough, he’ll—
Actually, what the hell am I doing? He has no hold over me, not anymore. I am Cathrine fucking Prescott for goddess’s sake.
I sit up in the booth, straightening my spine and holding my chin high.
I can do this. I’m tired of running away. Tired of bending over backward for people who look at me like I’m just a number. Tired of pushing away my magic and family. Ready to embrace myself again. And maybe make this thing with Elliot more than just a cover story.
The corners of my lips turn up as I concentrate on the glass of water in front of me. I twirl my finger in a circle, pulling on the magic inside me and watching as the water swirls in a shimmering arch, jumping above the rim before landing back in the glass without splashing a single drop.
“Well, if it isn’t little Miss Prescott,” Brody drawls as he pauses, leaning against the booth across from me. “Where’s your fishy boyfriend at?”
“Probably off doing fishy boyfriend ocean rescue things.” I take my time meeting his gaze before glancing over his shoulder. “Did you need something? I’m a little busy here and wouldn’t want to take any more time from your…”
I gesture at the blonde shifting impatiently behind him, arms crossed over her chest as she looks between the two of us.
“Brody, I’m hungry,” she whines, pulling on his bicep.
“Please, don’t let me keep you. I’m just about to head out anyways. I’ve got a hot date with my boyfriend to prep for.”
Brody steps forward and leans on the table.
“If you ever get tired of…” he starts, but doesn’t finish his sentence as the entire contents of my water glass lift into the air and dump onto his head, soaking his shirt in ice water.
Before he can react, the sink behind the diner counter turns on and sprays him right in the back of the head with a powerful blast.
He steps back, spluttering and wiping water from his face. “Why, you little witch…”
“Hey, can I get you anything else?” a deep voice rumbles beside me.
I glance up to find Maverick, broad-shouldered in a flannel button-up, towering beside the table holding a coffee pot.
“No, thank you, though. I’m quite well here, and lunch was excellent.”
“You’ll pay for that, Cat.”
“Pay for what, Brody? I’m just finishing up my lunch here. You should really try the strawberry and chicken salad. It might balance out your sour attitude.”
“How do you explain this, then?” He gestures to his soaked hair and shirt dripping onto the diner floor.
“Brody, we literally live in an ocean town with unpredictable water pressure.” I shrug before dapping at my lips with my napkin.
“I don’t have time for this. Come on, Chelsea, let’s go.”
Brody turns to leave, but the woman doesn’t move.
“Chelsea, I said let’s go.” He stops, glancing over his shoulder.
“My name isn’t Chelsea, it’s Bethany.” She pulls the keys out of her purse and pushes past Brody. “And you can walk. Don’t bother calling me again.”
Brody’s ears burn bright red as the diner door shuts behind her. He opens his mouth, but then looks between me and Maverick standing behind me before he, too, turns and storms out.
“You okay? Need someone to walk you to your car?”
Maverick’s dark eyes flick briefly toward the entrance before returning knowingly to me.
“No, I think I’m okay.” The tension in my shoulders eases slightly. “Could I get some to-go boxes and the check?”
The last thing I wanted right now was more food, but I also refused to waste perfectly good strawberry salad and dessert because Brody decided to exist in my vicinity. Or because I’d just stood up to my childhood bully.
Maverick raises an eyebrow. “Elliot already squared up with me before he left.”
“He did?”
“Mhm.” Maverick nods toward the kitchen. “Told me if I let you pay, he’d throw me in the ocean.”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
Of course he did.
What an Elliot thing to do.
Warmth blooms embarrassingly low in my stomach at the thought.
Maverick studies me for a second too long before leaning one massive arm against the booth.
“You know, Miss Prescott, you’re looking a little stressed.” His mouth quirks. “Have you tried checking out Suction and Serenity Spa while you’re in town? My customers swear by it.”
Despite myself, I snort.