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“Well, good. Because there's a lot of work to be done here, so I'll be here for the summer at least. And I won't always have a candle handy. Next time I might have a frying pan,” I deadpan with a smirk.
“Noted,” he says, the side of his mouth hooking upward.
“I'm Evangeline.” I extend my hand toward him. And I can't help it if I'm pushing him a little bit under the guise of politeness.
He slips his large palm in mine, and it's like every cliche love story I've ever read is playing out in one handshake. My palm prickles like sparks poked my skin, the hair on my arm stands up like there's a buildup of electricity.
I glance from our clasped hands, following those delicious tattooed arms all the way up to get snared in his gaze.
“I'm Bane.”
With two words, every romantic notion and fantasy that I didn't realize I was stockpiling comes crashing down.
Those tiny seeds of hope that I had unconsciously planted all those years ago on that beach just spontaneously combusted. They float all around me, falling slowly to ash, invisible except to me.
Disappointment fills my feet with lead, cementing me to the floor.
Because the guy in front of me? He's hot as fuck with a real bad boy vibe and possessive streak that would probably make me beg for more.
But he's not him—my guy from the beach.
His name was Lincoln.
20
EVANGELINE
“So how was the first night?”
Cora is entirely too chipper for eight o’clock in the morning. Her voice bright and loud in my ear. I switch her to speakerphone and set the phone on the island behind me.
A yawn steals my reply, stretching my mouth wide as I open one side of the refrigerator. It's a modern touch in the otherwise farmhouse chic kitchen. French door style stainless steel with a flex door in the middle and the freezer on the bottom, plenty of room in all three sections. Surprisingly, it wasn't as gross as I was expecting. My apartment back in the city was vacant for three months before I moved in, and I needed a hazmat suit to clean that kitchen.
But I guess Mr. Robert wasn't kidding when he said everything was taken care of.
The fridge, the island, and sink were the only things I cleaned in the kitchen last night. The rest I plan to tackle today. That and get some food. Because the fridge might be clean, but it's painfully empty. I think I have a protein bar in my purse.
I didn't have the energy to get groceries last night, not after all the sorting and the awkward encounter with Bane.
God, I still can't believe it wasn't him. Memories can change over the years, warp and grow fuzzy. Nostalgia can embellish them and details can fade. But still, I could've sworn . . .
Maybe he has a brother? Shit, it could even be a twin brother.
“Jesus,” she says with a chuckle. “Didn't you get any sleep? I can literally hear how big that yawn was. Can you catch someone’s yawn over the phone? Because—”
The rest of her sentence is muffled behind a yawn. I laugh, even if it’s sleepy and weak.
“Guess that answers your question. Besides, it’s normal to be tired after the emotional trip yesterday.”
“I told you to wait for me, and I’ll do it with you. It's not fair to ask you to clean out Nana Jo's entire house alone. I'm actually surprised she didn't have anything in her will to stipulate that. She seemed to be so meticulous about everything else,” she says.
I open one of the cabinets next to the fridge. It's full of magazines, cookbooks, mail, and random papers. “Yeah, who knows. I'm sure she had her reasons though. And you have a life here—a job and commitments. I don't expect you to drop everything because I suddenly decided to move here for the summer. I’m perfectly fine alone.”
She sighs. “I know, but I wanted to help.”
“I know, and I love you for it. But I didn’t really want to wait. Spending money on a motel seemed like a waste when I have a perfectly good house to sleep in.” I thought I'd had a comfortable savings account, definitely enough to stay at the little motel longer. But that was before I inherited a house—and all the costs associated with owning a house. I'm trying to be smart about my finances, at least until I find another job.
“Yeah. How was it sleeping there?” She’s quiet, and I can hear the hustle and bustle of the bakery she works at through the line.
