Maybe she was wrong about him. Maybe her past was getting in the way, blocking her from the reality of her situation. Maybe... The thought slid through her mind as effortlessly as water rolling down a hill. Her eyes flew open and she stared blankly into the dim light of her home as the truth struck like a bolt of lightning.
Maybe it wasn’t Xander she didn’t trust. She touched a hand to her heart.
Maybe she didn’t trust herself.
CHAPTER FIVE
DUSKYWING FARM.
Xander wasn’t sure what intrigued him more—the lush organic field of nature’s bounty that sat beyond the wooden gate, or the barefoot owner carrying armloads of what looked like jars of honey to the market stall nearby.
Barefoot. In early winter. Xander might have chuckled if he didn’t think he’d somehow offend Calliope Jones. Not that she seemed aware of his presence. She moved as silently as a morning fog, drifting over the ground like a whisper, the tiny bells he’d grown accustomed to in such a short time silent. Only now, when he concentrated, did he hear her humming a tune he recognized but couldn’t identify. He did, however, notice a lightness about her that included a secretive smile tilting her generous lips.
She wore green today, the rich green of a shamrock field, and no doubt just as lucky. He caught a hint of fresh grass, dirt and something that smelled oddly of licorice.
He pulled out his cell to check the time. Nearly an hour before opening. He’d decided on the morning walk well before the sun, east coast time still running his system. The blinking, mocking cursor of his laptop had continued in his mind long after he’d turned off his computer to spend the midnight hours staring helplessly at the ceiling. It had been arrogant and shortsighted of him to think this project was going to be easy.
And arrogance had no place in the vicinity of Calliope Jones. Or, it seemed, anywhere within the borders of Butterfly Harbor.
His first clue to this revelation had been when he’d arrived back at his room after his meeting with the mayor and found a fresh evergreen wreath on his front door. Thick boughs had been draped over the windowsills and a beautiful, lush, three-foot tree situated on a skirted table in the corner of the sitting room beside the fireplace.
On the coffee table Lori had left a gift-wrapped package that when he opened it, revealed lights, ornaments and a silver-star topper. It wasn’t often he used the word charming, but so far his time in Butterfly Harbor could only be described in that way. His irritation over the reaction to his design faded beneath the unexpected warmth and kindness of this town. “Mew.”
From where he now stood outside the entry gate to Duskywing Farm, Xander glanced down and found a thin, sleek, grayish silver cat twining itself around his feet. “Well, good morning.” He crouched as the cat walked around him, blinked two large black eyes at him, then plopped her—at least he thought it was a her—backside down and lifted her chin. “Out for a morning pet, are we?” He stroked two fingers down the cat’s head, then scratched under her chin. He took the engine-loud purr as a good sign. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?”
“Mew.”
Xander started. He frowned. Had the cat just answered him? When he pulled away, she reached up a paw and knocked him on the back of his hand. The purring resumed when he stroked her fur. “I wish your mistress were as easy to interpret.”
“We each of us have our soft points.” Calliope’s voice carried far less of the coolness he’d come to expect. “Seems you’ve found hers easily enough.”
He grinned. The cat did seem to enjoy his attention. “She’s beautiful.”
“And she knows it.” Calliope, still carrying two jars in her arms, shifted them so she could open the gate. “You may as well come in.”
“I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome this early.” He inclined his head as he pushed to his feet. “I figured I was in for another lecture on my punctuality.”
“I don’t lecture.” Her words came with a defiant spark in her eyes.
It was a spark that didn’t burn quite as bright as it had yesterday. Progress? Maybe he was growing on her. Or maybe she’d resigned herself to the idea of working with him. Either way, he’d revel in her acceptance while he could.