Page 86 of Chasing the Sun

I turned, spotting the wooden crate filled with flower flats bursting with bright, heavy blooms. I determined part one of my apology could come in the form of manual labor.

A slow grin tugged at my mouth as I looked at her mother. “Was that a compliment, Mrs. Darling?”

“I’m just saying, a man with strong hands is a man who gets things done,” she said airily, lifting an eyebrow in a way that told me she might get under her daughter’s skin and have a little fun while doing it.

“Mom, please,” Elodie groaned. “I am begging you to stop flirting with my—” She clamped her mouth shut, her cheeks flushing pink.

“No, go on.” I leaned back on my heels. “Finish that sentence.”

She shot me a look that could have leveled a lesser man. “Neighbor.”

Mrs. Darling grinned, patting my arm like she’d known me for years. “I’m just saying, Callum looks like a man who could put those muscles to good use.”

Elodie let out a quiet groan, pressing her fingertips to her temples. “Mother, please. He’s the enemy,remember?”

Selene stifled a chuckle, shaking her head as she worked in the dirt.

I reached for the crate. “Where do you want it?”

“Right over here, handsome,” Mrs. Darling called, and I bit back a laugh at the way Elodie shot her mother with another murderous glare.

I carried the crate to where Elodie was kneeling, setting it down beside her.

“Your family always this much fun?” I muttered under my breath.

Elodie exhaled sharply, reaching for a trowel. “You have no idea. What are you doing here?”

“Trying to apologize.” My eyes traveled over her gorgeous face. “I’m sorry I jumped in at the meeting without having a conversation with you first.”

She swallowed, absorbing my words. “I do not accept.” Her cheek twitched as she fought a smile.

“That’s okay,” I whispered. “You will eventually.”

I crouched beside her, our knees brushing. She smelled like fresh earth and something sweet, like vanilla sugar warmed by the sun. When she reached for the trowel, I intentionally reached for the same one, my fingertips brushing over the back of her hand. Sparks danced up my arm. She did too—I saw it in the way her breath hitched, the way she hesitated, her lashes flicking up just long enough to meet my gaze before she dropped them again.

I crouched, reaching for one of the flowers, gently loosening its roots. “You know, you’re doing it wrong.”

Her head whipped toward me, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

I gestured to the plant she was about to stick in the ground. “You’ve got to rough up the roots a little first. Otherwise, they won’t rootas well.”

She arched her brow, unimpressed, but still listening. “Since when are you an expert on gardening?”

I worked the soil between my fingers. “Since I was a kid. My mom loved to garden—vegetables, flowers, you name it.”

That gave her pause. Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to ask more about my childhood. Instead, she took the plant from my hand, mimicking the motion, her shoulder bumping against mine as she worked.

I could have pulled back, but I didn’t.

“Better?” she murmured, glancing up at me through her lashes.

Something low and tight curled in my chest. I cleared my throat. “Better.”

A small, sticky hand suddenly smacked against my knee. I looked down to find Elodie’s niece, Winnie, peering up at me, her face smeared with what looked like chocolate and an alarming amount of dirt.

“You’re still so big,” she announced, tilting her head like she was trying to solve a puzzle.

I arched my brow. “Yeah? And you’re still small.”