Page 61 of Catching Trouble

I softened my voice, desperate to soothe the tense line of her shoulders. “I would never think you were stupid, Chloe. A little crazy? Definitely, but stupid? Absolutely not.”

She stopped in a clatter of pebbles. When I caught up with her, she turned around to face me, fists bunched.

“It’s not that I hate bees. I’m just… I’m just worried about getting stung.” She pulled her mouth into a tight line before continuing. “My brother. He’s allergic—like proper emergency allergic. I was seven when we found out. We were having a picnic, and a bee stung him on his face. He started swelling, and his throat—he couldn’t breathe. My mum was screaming, and I didn’t know what to do.”

I drew my brows together. “Did he…?”

She guessed my meaning, tipping her chin up. “No, He’s fine now. He carries an EpiPen everywhere. But I guess I always assumed it’d be the same for me. Only, I haven’tbeenstung. Ever. So, it’s like I’m just waiting to find out. I know it’s irrational, and call me morbid, but I just know that if one were to get me, I’d die.”

I didn’t speak for a moment, only watched the way she chewed the side of her lip. “That’s not stupid.”

Chloe stared at me, her teeth gripping her lip.

I shrugged. “You saw someone you love almost die. That kind of thing doesn’t leave you.”

At the trembling of her chin, I longed to reach out and hold her. Instead, I smiled. “And I promise, while you’re here in Furze, I’ll keep an eye out for you. You won’t have to deal with the bees alone. I’m very useful with a tennis racquet. I can practice my backhand.”

Her lips curved, and my heart soared.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said. “My personal anti-bee-bodyguard.” She mock-punched her fist into the air. “Fighting the venom, one sting at a time. I might even make you an outfit. Yellow might suit you.”

I chuckled, shaking my head as we made our way down the shore to the boat. When we got there, I took the rope, focusing on it like it was the most important task in the world—anything to keep my thoughts off Chloe’s nearness.

I’d used it to tether down a length of tarp, pulling it across the front of the boat. The weather forecast—and the horizon—threatened rain. Not that the flimsy plastic would offer much shelter, but if a deluge came, it was better than nothing.

Chloe stood ankle deep in the water, watching me. She fidgeted with the hem of her dress.

I stopped and stared at her. “What’re you doing here, anyway? Where’s Sophie?”

She winced. “Please don’t think I’m slacking off, but she’s with Fifi. She’s found a new friend, and I didn’t think she’d appreciate a chaperone. Cramping a tweenager’s style is a heavy offence. I know I’m pretty cool, but…”

I shook my head. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you down on the beach? Before the bee, you seemed… upset.”

A line formed between her brows.

I hoped she didn’t think I was keeping tabs on her. I looked down at the phone in her hand. Chloe followed my gaze, putting it into the bag slung over her shoulder. She scooped up a small shell from the water and rolled it between her fingers.

“I’m just doing what I always do, apparently.”

Recalling the sad look on her face, I shook my head. “And what’s that?”

Chloe lifted a foot, letting the beads of water fall from her toes. “Oh, you know… fending off the weekly ‘check-in’ call from my mother.” She quirked a brow. “Don’t worry. I’ve grown a thick skin over the years.”

I tightened my grip on the rope. “What was she calling about?”

Chloe sighed, meeting my gaze. “The usual. Telling me I should grow up and take responsibility for myself.”

She lifted her hands into the air, wiggling the first two fingers on each hand to make air quotes. “Get a job. Get a mortgage. Maybe a husband or three. Just the usual. The ‘ordinary life’.”

Her bottom lip trembled, and I shifted on the pebbles. I couldn’t imagine Chloe being bound by convention—settling for an ordinary life. It would be like caging a beautiful bird.

“Do you want those things?”

She pulled her brows together, staring at me hard, before her face softened. “Well, two husbands would be a lot. I’m not very good at housework and then I’d have to draw up a sex rota. I wouldn’t want a traffic jam in the bedroom.”

“Chloe,” I ground out, my voice sounding harsher than I intended.

“What?”