On My Way - Eve Langlais Page 0,40

had purchased it and renovated it, bringing not only jobs to the dying town but a sense of revitalization.

I might not agree with what they were doing—surely mining the mud and clay from the lake wouldn’t be a long-term thing, or good for the ecosystem—but at the same time, Canada had strict environmental policies. Surely they’d be keeping an eye on the company.

I pulled into a parking lot changed quite a bit from my last visit. Gone were the containers and construction materials. A fresh coat of paint had transformed the mill into something new. The parking lot was full of vehicles.

But I didn’t see a fancy sedan. Kane didn’t appear to be here.

Still, I’d driven all this way…

I entered the mill and was stopped at reception where a woman with long, light blonde hair halted me with a cold, “Can I help you?” Her very tone suggested it unlikely.

“Hi. I’m a friend of Kane’s. Is he in today?” Friend might be an exaggeration.

“I’m afraid I cannot divulge that kind of information.”

“Can you at least buzz him and tell him Naomi Rousseau would like to see him?”

“The witch?” The woman eyed me up and down. I could almost predict her next words. “I would have never guessed.”

Apparently, I didn’t impress too many people. “Well, it’s me, in the flesh. Mind letting him know I’m here?”

“I can leave him a message; however, Mr. D’Argent isn’t in the office today.”

Why couldn’t she have told me that in the first place? “Do you know when he will be?”

“No.”

“Thanks.” For nothing. I eyed the door leading into the mill. “How’s mechanical Maddy doing?” The fake monster had the town spinning a few months ago. She was the one that kept popping up in my dreams, but as a real monster.

“Our machinery is fine. Was there anything else, Ms. Rousseau?” Said with an undercurrent of “get out.”

“Nope. I’ll get going. Have a great day.” I turned on my heel and muttered under my breath, “And I hope you wake up with a great big zit on your nose.” Petty of me, but she’d gotten under my thin skin. I felt inadequate enough without little Miss I’m So Perfect rubbing it in.

As I walked back out into the sunshine, I pondered my stupidity in coming here. What did I hope to accomplish? Thank Kane for sending Brigda? Blast him for meddling? Ask him how he knew and why he cared?

Why did he care?

My phone rang, and not a ringtone I’d ever heard before. Pulling it from my satchel of doom, where things sometimes went to die, I glanced at the unknown number. My “Hello?” was tentative.

“I hear you were looking for me.”

My eyes widened. “Kane.” Rather than reply to his question, I posed one of my own. “How did you get my number?”

“As if I don’t know everything about you.”

Sexy or creepy? I was kind of seesawing. As to how he knew about my visit… I glanced back at the building. That lying receptionist obviously called him the moment I left.

“I wanted to say thank you for sending Brigda to help me.”

“It was the least I could do given what happened.”

“I also wanted to say I’m paying for it.”

“Who says there will be a cost?”

“I highly doubt Brigda is working for free,” was my dry reply.

“What makes you think she isn’t doing this out of the kindness of her heart?”

“Because she hates me.”

“Hate is harsh. Intensely dislikes. But I’m sure she’ll come around. Eventually. Once she gets over her jealousy.”

“Why would she be jealous of me?”

“Are you fishing for compliments?” Mockery tinged his words.

“I highly doubt that’s the reason for her dislike.”

“Get used to it. I imagine you’ll encounter many who won’t like you simply because of my interest.”

The fact he admitted it out loud had me stunned. It took me a moment to gather my wits and say, “Why are you interested in me?” A bold question. Bravery came more easily on the phone compared to in person.

“You’re a fascinating lady.”

“Not really.”

I didn’t hold any illusions where I was concerned. I’d gone right from college to housewife, to mother, to empty nester, and now divorcee. I’d not lived a very interesting life. Most of it had revolved around caring for my family, whereas Kane lived a jetsetter style. Beautiful women, exotic places. I defined drab in comparison.

“Would you feel better if I said I want to stay on the good side of a witch?”

The word made my lips press into a tight line. No matter