“Nope. It’s just me, and that’s the way I like it. Relationships aren’t my thing.” The moment the words leave my lips, I glance back up at Elodie to catch her reaction, even though I shouldn’t care what she thinks.
The truth is, if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t.
Her eyebrows lift, but then she focuses on Remy. “I haven’t had much luck with those either.”
Standing tall again, I remove pieces of the crib from the box. “Uh, how old are you by the way? I probably should have asked that the other day, but…well, you know what a flustered state I was in.”
She chuckles. “I’m twenty-five. You?”
“Thirty-two.”
Christ, she’s seven years younger than me. Maybe that will make it easier to keep my thoughts about her strictly platonic.
Elodie crosses the room and scoops up a toy, holding it out to Remy. But the bounce in her breasts and sway of her hips as she strides toward my daughter makes it difficult to keep the level head I know I need to find.
I clear my throat and continue our conversation. “So, what brought you to Blossom Peak? This isn’t exactly the type of place people move to out of nowhere. Most of us who live here permanently were born here or transplanted here for work or for family. The rest are tourists.”
“I used to come here as a kid,” she says while showing Remy how to shake the toy to make noise. “My parents booked us a trip each summer where we’d stay in a cabin, swim in the lake, and hike. I needed a break from LA, but I wasn’t ready to go back home. This was the first place I thought of.”
“And where’s home?” Taking a seat on the ground, I lay out the crib’s pieces and screws before opening up the instruction manual.
“Garnet Valley. Have you heard of it?”
“That’s in Tennessee, right?”
“Yeah, about two hours from here, tucked up in the Great Smoky Mountains.”
“So, your parents would leave their mountains to come to our mountains?”
Elodie laughs. “That’s what my dad used to say to my mom, but she loved the cherry blossom trees here. Coming here felt different—like a real getaway. And honestly, this place holds some of my favorite childhood memories. Like this scar,” she says, holding out her leg to me and pointing to the divot in her shin. But all I can focus on is her smooth, tan skin and muscle tone in her calf. “I got this from racing my brother through the woods behind our rental cabin. One wrong step and I fell shins-first into some rocks.”
“And that made you fall in love with Blossom Peak?”
“Yes, Henley. The blood overwhelmed me and I’ve associated pain with love ever since.”
“You know, I didn’t think anyone could perfect sarcasm quite like my sister, but it seems I was wrong.”
Elodie flips her hair over her shoulder as she walks into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. “Then maybe I need to take her up on her offer to hang out.”
The idea makes me uneasy, but I’m sure Elodie could use a friend or two while she’s here. Even I can admit that my sister is someone you want in your corner. “That’s if you can convince her to step away from her shop. My sister owns Clark Customs & Auto Repair and she’s been known to sleep in the garage when she’s knee-deep in a project.”
“She works on cars for a living?”
“Yeah. Trust me, she’s taken a lot of shit in her life because of it too, so don’t bring it up unless you want an earful about stereotypes.”
Smiling, she heads back into the living room and takes a seat on the couch, watching me work. “Oh, I know all about stereotypes. I carry around a guitar case and suddenly, I’m out here just trying to be the next Taylor Swift.”
“Well, are you?”
Sighing, she looks down at Remy. “I’m not sure what I want anymore.”
I want to press her further, to learn more about what that defeated reply really means, but Remy starts fussing. With one glance at her watch, Elodie hoists Remy on her shoulder and stands. “I think she’s ready for a bottle and a nap.”
I stare down at the half-built crib.
“We’ll try the crib tonight. She can nap on me this time.” Elodie makes a bottle for the baby with one hand like it’s nothing and then heads toward the hall.
Before she gets too far, I call out for her. “Elodie?”
