“I saw you returning through the window from a mile. You don’t have to announce it, Ninian.”
“That would take away my excuse for seeing you.”
Squaring a stack of papers, she sighed. “We’ve been through this last year.”
“I don’t see you dating anyone.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m interested.”
He looked her up and down. “Are you a lesbian or something?”
“You’re here for a season and then you’re gone.”
He lifted a brow. “And?”
“You’re interested in a summer fling, and I’m not.”
Fixing his eyes on her breasts, he said, “It’s just a beer at the brasserie and a bit of dancing.”
She crossed her arms. “I’d like to lock up.”
“Need a ride home?”
“No, thanks.”
He grinned. “You’re going to have to give up your precious virginity sometime or another.”
Her cheeks grew hot. Living in a small town had plenty of disadvantages. One of them was that everyone knew everything about everybody. Gossip was a major pastime. Everyone knew she’d never dated. She couldn’t even claim a holiday fling since she’d never set foot outside the village. But Ninian lived in Paris. To the locals, he was as good as a foreigner. It hurt that her own kind—well, adopted kind—would disclose such personal information to a stranger, someone considered an outsider.
She gave him a narrowed look. “That was rude.”
He laughed. “If you’re waiting for Prince Charming to ride into town on a white horse, you’ll wait forever. Your best bet is a fisherman from one of the passing trawlers.” He straightened. “I could take you to Paris. We’ll make it fun.”
She picked up her backpack and got to her feet. “Good evening, Ninian.”
He smirked. “Careful, honey. You’re turning into a frigid spinster. God knows, you already have enough cats for the resumé.” Turning on his heel, he stalked from the office and made his way to the car park with bouncy strides.
Rigual appeared in the door. “If he’s bothering you, I can give him the wild horse next time. It’ll do him good to come back down to Earth. He needs a good knock on the head.”
She smiled at the man who had a daughter her age. “Thanks, but I can handle myself.”
“We’re done in the stables.”
She nodded. “I’ll close up.”
“Need a lift home?”
“No, thanks. I can do with a walk.”
She needed to clear her head and figure out how to tell Erwan of her intention to hand herself over to the police. It wasn’t a task she looked forward to.
Rigual and Golven got into Rigual’s van. She waved through the window as the van pulled off. The indicator blinked as the vehicle turned right and disappeared in the direction of Carnac.
Stalling for time, she swept the office and cleaned the windows. When only a thumbnail of sun capped the horizon, she couldn’t put it off any longer. She locked the door and left the key under the flowerpot, which defied the purpose of locking it, as that was the first place any burglar would look, not that they’d had any burglaries in all the years she’d lived there, but that was the way Tristan wanted it done. It had been his wife’s habit, and he clung to it as if she were still alive.
She watered the flowers as the final part of her daily tasks. When she was done, the first stars appeared in the dusk. She arranged the hosepipe in a neatly rolled coil and hung it on the wall hook. As she looked up, her eye caught a figure in the distance stumbling down the dirt road. He had to have come straight past her while she had her back turned to the road. She frowned. Had one of the tourists been left behind? It had happened before. If he was hoping to make it to the bus stop, he was going in the wrong direction.
She called out to catch the man’s attention, but he didn’t pause his swaying progress. Taking two unstable steps to the left, he lifted his arms to balance himself. His silhouette was a stark, black picture in the dying light of the day. A bottle in his hand caught the twilight, reflecting the amber glow of liquor.
The man ventured off the main road onto the footpath that led to the stone alignments. Vandalism wasn’t unknown in the historical site. Teenagers often sneaked in after dark to drink or perform silly witchcraft rituals, some of them smashing their empty bottles against the ancient stones and carving their initials into the rock.
Grabbing her backpack, she ran up the road. “Hey, you! The site is closed.”
He disappeared behind a cluster of trees. When she reached the path, she was just in time to see him jump over the gate that gave access to the site. A trench coat floated behind him, trailing over the mesh. His long hair was tied back with a leather string.
Her step faltered. She knocked her toe against a rock and lost her balance. Going down, she stopped her fall with her hands. Thorns and pebbles dug into her skin. With her blood rushing in her ears, she stayed on her burning hands and knees for a second while she gathered herself.
It wasn’t like the dream, but it was him. The longer she stared at the dark figure, the surer she felt.
Joss staggered through the stones toward the backend of the fenced site. What was he doing here? She got to her feet and followed him over the gate. In the descending darkness, she caught the shine of his coat before he moved behind the flat dolmen tombstones. When she got him back in sight, he was sitting on the ground with his back resting against a megalith.
Her flip-flops weren’t suitable footwear for the fields. Nettles and sharp polls of wild grass stung her feet, but she ignored the burn as she trot closer. Joss hadn’t noticed her. He took his phone from his pocket and checked the screen. The light illuminated his features. There was no longer any question about his identity. His face looked the same, but the lines framing his mouth ran deeper.
He darkened the screen and dropped the phone, carelessly discarding it on the ground. Bringing the bottle to his lips, he took a long drink. His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. He wiped his mouth with the back of the hand and leaned his head against the stone.
The danger he emitted was a strange mixture of fury and pain. It was palpable in the dark. It should’ve made her back away, but she wanted answers. She was desperate to understand. Why was she dreaming of him? Why had he come back? Why did her mind scream at her to run?
Instead of heeding that voice in her head, she inched forward. Her heart had always won over logic. It still beat for him, stronger than ever. Time hadn’t diminished his spell. The knowledge was devastating. No matter what, she’d always be chained to him. She’d always carry the heavy weight of falling in love too young and too irreversibly. Joss was more than a dream. He was the very thread with which she’d woven her soul. Cutting it would mean letting everything she was unravel.
A twig cracked under the thin sole of her flip-flop. Joss’s hand stilled with the bottle halfway to his mouth, his body coiled and tense. He jerked his face in her direction. Their eyes locked. A shiver ran over her, delicious and frightening. She felt fourteen again, like that day in the woods.
Too late for changing her mind and running away, she steeled her spine. Her words sounded like an accusation. “What are you doing here?”