“Oh. Will the lighthouse be okay? I mean—” Of course it will be, it was built for this. Even the thought seems stupid. But I’m flustered. The heat of slow-blooming anxiety spreads.
Iris leans over the table. “I can give you some things. You’ll stay here tonight. I have a guest bedroom. Not the first time this’ll happen.”
Callum rises, plucking up the dirty plates. Iris shakes her head at him and goes back to chatting with Emmett.
“Let me help.” I push up from the chair and grab dishes, following Callum to the kitchen space. He stands at the sink, rinsing the plates and cutlery.
I set the dishes on the counter. “Should I cover these for the refrigerator?”
“Top of the cupboard, left of the fridge,” he grunts.
Okay... this weather’s flipped his mood like the storm clouds it brings, apparently.
I find the plastic wrap in the cupboard and cover each dish in turn before finding a place in the fridge for them. As I close the refrigerator door, a flutter catches my eye.
Blue.
Wings.
A monarch butterfly magnet sits by the handle, only inches from my hand. I try to force myself to see the beauty in it.
I can’t.
I rip my hand away like the handle just caught fire.
The searing heat lancing my veins is quick to fade with the sound of the man behind me grunting as he slams ceramic around. I turn back to find Callum stacking the dishwasher like those plates personally offended him.
He shoves another into the bottom rack with a clang, and I touch his forearm, hoping to stave off the assault for a moment. “Are you okay?”
His blue eyes are tightened as they rise to land on mine. “Fine.”
“Tell that to the plates.” I fold my arms and nod to the dishwasher between us, the open door at our feet, the plates tossed in any old how.
“You’re not happy about the storm, about having to stay?” I ask.
He searches my face. Returning the gesture, I wonder what has him so riled in such a short time frame. I thought we moved past this broody, not-getting-close-to-each-other shit.
Maybe he’s not comfortable with us being in the same platonic bed here together in his sister’s house?
Honestly, I’m lost.
“Emmett said we should stay...” I try again.
“We need to.” His jaw grinds. “But we shouldn’t.”
Fourteen
CALLUM
Evie’s been in the bathroom for almost half an hour. The tiny guest room above the café is opposite Iris’s room. Her light went out ten minutes ago. Down to my briefs and T-shirt, I lie in the full-sized bed that’s more like a single. If Iris had a sofa, I’d be on it.
She doesn’t, and I’m not.
The kindest move I can make now is to roll over and feign sleep.
May as well tell me to stop fucking breathing.
Just the thought of Evie sliding under this damn sheet in the tiniest bed known to man has me rock hard. I roll over, hoping if she ever comes out of the goddamn bathroom I don’t make a fool of myself with a raging hard-on for a woman I won’t have.
