Page 56 of The Matchmaker
I am immediately suspicious. We called our truce last week, but then Jack revealed his plans for a new road, and Callum didn’t come around again. I don’t really know where we stand, but I do know it’s a Sunday, which means the site is closed. Which means he shouldn’t be anywhere near here. They all disappear on the weekends. Like they can’t wait to get out of here fast enough. It’s why I brought everyone to the barn today. So they wouldn’t know what we’re doing.
Without giving myself a chance to think about it, I take off after him, following the trail as it veers left toward the water. I usually wouldn’t be so paranoid, but with Jack clearly going after other parts of the village, I’ve been on high alert, wondering what they’ll come for next. There’s no reason for Callum to be in these woods.
Unless this is a reconnaissance mission. A littlehey, why don’t we drain the lake to build an apartment blockgroundwork that they intend to blindside us with next month.
The more I think about it, the more I’m scared of it, and I pick up my pace, bursting through the trees, and— okay, I’ve lost him.
I huff as I glance around the empty lake, weirdly disappointed.
Maybe I hallucinated him. That would be fun. A fun little thing to add to my list of things to tell my doctor. Give her something new to discuss with me instead of just period pain and low iron levels.
With no hint of another soul around, I start to head back to the barn, only for my gaze to snag on a small pile of stones by the water’s edge. They’re all the same size and shape, flat, smooth, and perfect for throwing, and I pause as the childish part of me begs me to throw one. So I do, rubbing one clean before launching it into the lake. It skips a respectable three times before vanishing into the water, and I crouch back down to get another.
“Watcha doing?”
“Jesus!” I jump, straightening from my crouch to see Callum standing directly behind me. “Don’t sneak up on people!”
“Don’t follow people through the woods,” he counters, and I say nothing because that’s exactly what I was doing. I just didn’t knowheknew that’s what I was doing. I turn back to the shore instead of answering, watching him from the corner of my eye when he joins me.
He’s in his jeans again, as well as a dark green jacket that he’s zipped up tight. His headphones loop around his neck, but I can hear no guitars coming from them.
“No music today?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“Audiobook.”
Huh. “Which one?”
“Crime and Punishment,” he says, only to laugh at my unimpressed look. “It’s a thriller. The murdery kind.”
“Wow. What a great choice to listen to while walking alone through the woods,” I say dryly, and he grins, his gaze flicking between me and the lake.
“You need to twist your wrist better.”
“What?”
“You’re twisting at the beginning of your throw,” he explains, nodding at the stone in my hand. “You need to twist at the end.”
“You’re critiquing mystone skippingtechnique?”
“Yep.” He crouches down, examining the pile before plucking out a few chosen ones. “Want to make a bet on how many jumps I can get?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you look really confident,” I admit, and he smirks, tossing a stone into the air.
“I’m going to say… twelve.”
“Twelve?” Twelve skips? Now he’s just cocky. The best I’ve ever managed is eight. “Fine. Bet made.”
“Yeah?” His eyes light up. “What do I get if I win?”
“Your pride.”
“Deal.” He doesn’t even hesitate. He catches the stone one final time, and then flicks it in. It grazes the water in swift, elegant bursts, and my mouth falls open as it moves so far away that I can’t even count them anymore.
“What the hell? How did you do that?”
