Page 94 of Resorting to Romance

That kiss.

It invades my mindagain.

And here I go, like the manliest version of a teen girl after her date kisses her goodnight on the porch, lifting my fingertips to my lips as if by doing that I could conjure up the feeling of Mila placing her mouth on mine.

What? Don’t judge. I’m touching my mouth in a totally manly, manly way. I’m a dude, sitting here running my fingertips across my lips with a dreamy look in my eyes. It’s a masculine as heck look of dreaminess. Pondering, really. Thoughtful. Not at all twitterpated.

If Ben walked in right now without knocking, which, yes, he is prone to doing, I would be the recipient of his grade-A level of teasing for years.YEARS.

I drop my hand.

Ben and Bodhi’s conversation at the front of the shop tells me I’m safe, but still.

What am I doing?

Mila kissed me.

It still blows my mind.

I kissed her back. Of course, I did. But she was the one who initiated the kiss. If I focus, I can nearly feel the touch of her hand on my jaw, the way she turned my head. I see the invitation in her eyes. And then the feel of her lips, soft, pliant, responsive.

It seems like a year, not a week, since I’ve seen Mila in person. Ever since that kiss, I guess I’ve been keeping my distance without really planning to. It has been busier around here, but I could have made time to pop by the inn.

I text her every day. And sometimes I call. But there haven’t been any handyman emergencies at the inn, no events to attend together, nothing to make us have to see one another. I had gotten into the habit of showing up for no reason. Now I’m staying away for no reason. No reason except that kiss.

I’ve been trying to sort my thoughts.

Yes. Mila needed to throw Brad off. But that kiss felt like more. So much more. Maybe that’s just how she kisses. Can you imagine? If it is, I don’t know what I’d do if we really were dating. I’d never get anything done. I’d either be kissing her or thinking about kissing her all day long. I’d start messing up at work. Things would get so bad, I’d lose my job. Without steady income, I wouldn’t be able to keep the house. I’d end up homeless. All over that woman’s kisses. She’d kiss me right into being a vagrant.

I chuckle to myself.

I’d like to believe our kiss meant something to her. I’m terrified it didn’t.

I’ve already fallen for her. Fallen head over heels, madly, deeply in love.

I never thought it would happen—not like this. I had started to believe I was too much of an over-thinker, too prone to rule-following, too often the protector, always on the lookout for the people I cared about. I had thought I was just too intense and keyed up to experience the kind of overwhelming longing I feel for Mila. My feelings for Mila are so completely out of my control. As a guy who likes predictability and being in charge, I’m not quite sure how to handle something so unruly and consuming as love.

And I’m not just pining away for another kiss, though I definitely want to kiss Mila again. I want her. All of her. I want us curled up on the pantry floor like two kids sneaking dessert after bedtime. I want her laughter, her smiles. I want to hold her when she needs strength, and to be the man she comes to when she celebrates her victories. I want her highs and her lows and everything in between.

I’m like a piece of paper whose corner touched the match and singed. I am certain the next time Mila touches me, I’ll go up in flames. And that’s why I’m keeping a healthy distance. I miss her. Our daily texts and calls don’t do anything to quench my thirst to be near her. I allowed myself to get accustomed to being around Mila and now I’m aware of her absence like I’m missing a limb.

There’s a knock on my office door. I’m grateful for the distraction.

“Come in!”

Ben walks into my office and stands next to my desk as if he’s in a boardroom, not a puny excuse for an office, taking up two-thirds of the space with his broad stance and golden-retriever energy.

“I’ll come out there,” I say.

“Okay. I’ve got something important to ask you, boss.”

Whenever Ben calls me “boss,” you can be quite sure he’s yanking my chain. He’s about to taunt me or poke fun at me, or get a laugh at my expense.

“What is it?”

I glance over at Bodhi as if he’s going to help me out. The look in his eyes tells me he isn’t.

“Well, we haven’t seen you taking off for the other side of the island at lunchtime in days. We haven’t heard you on the phone with Mila through that flimsy excuse for an office door. You haven’t left early to run over to check on her after work. Basically, it’s crickets. And I’m worried there’s trouble in paradise.”

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