Page 26 of The Grumpy Side of Paradise

Zach laughs. Loudly.

“Am I in the middle of something here?” Evie’s eyes dart between us.

I shake my head. Apparently, my scowl isn’t dialed down enough.

“Nothing that Adam hasn’t put everyone else in the middle of already,” Zach says.

Now it’s my turn to go red. Heat creeps from my scalp down my temples to my cheekbones. Not from embarrassment. No, this heat is all anger. Fury even. And I’m lifting out of my chair to get in my brother’s face when someone taps my shoulder.

“My hat’s working really good, Adam. Haven’t had any alien encounters since I put it on.”

I tear my eyes from my smirking brother to Lynette at my elbow. Her hair’s as frizzy as ever, her eyes a little glazed like she’s somewhere else, and she’s wearing the tinfoil hat I made her a few days ago.

All my anger floods out of me. “Glad to hear that, Lynette.” I stand up straight and grab my bag of food. “I knew it would, and it looks nice on you, too. You let me know when you need a new one, and I’ll get it made up for you.”

Her eyes flicker with something that looks like reason and understanding. Something that hasn’t been there since her husband disappeared. “Thank you, honey. I really appreciate you looking after me the way you do.”

“No thanks necessary. Can I walk you out?” I scoot from behind the table and dig into my front pocket. When I find a dollar there, I toss it onto the table. “Your tip for bringing the food,” I say to my brother, then turn to Evie. “Sunday? It’s the only day the store and my restaurant are both closed.”

“That would be great.” Light from the window reflects in Evie’s eyes, adding new depths to their color. There’s a softness that wasn’t there before.

“Works for me too.” Zach stuffs the dollar in his pocket, then digs into his food. “Try the ebelskiver before it gets cold,” he says to Evie.

I’m out the door before he finishes saying what I know is next. “You’re going to love it.”

Chapter 13

Evie

Britta’s little round Danish pancakes and her coffee may be my new favorite thing. I never need to go grocery shopping again. I will live on her lattes and ebelskiver (I think I’ve mastered how to say it). Especially the ones filled with lemon curd, which is my very favorite of the samples she made for me of each flavor.

By the time I roll—literally—out of Britta’s, I’m not only full of flour-y, buttery goodness but also a better understanding of who Adam and Zach are and how they’re different. Not that I had long conversations with either of them, but watching them interact with people was very eye-opening. Adam’s kindness toward Lynette told me as much about who he is as Zach’s non-interaction with her told me about whoheis.

So the prospect of running into Adam—literally—every time I step out of my house isn’t as annoying as it was a few days ago. In fact, I wouldn’t mind seeing Adam as often as I plan on seeing lattes and ebelskiver. He’s just as appetizing.

Scratch that. My time here is temporary. The last thing I need is to get involved with anyone. Especially someone who may be the best resource in this town for helping me get Grandma Rose’s done. So no daydreaming about ebelskiverandAdam. I’ll keep my fantasies to ebelskiver only.

Which, if I’m honest, is more difficult than I expect. I have boxes to unpack, which is boring and leaves a lot of space for my mind to wander. I keep it out of the realms of fantasy, but I can’t keep from trying to figure out who Adam is.

Seeing Adam at Britta’s has me wondering if I’ve misjudged him. Everything about that Adam was different. The way he took time to talk to people in the restaurant, like he really knows and cares about them. The way he leaned close and listened. The way his eyes dropped when they met mine and his cheeks turned a barely noticeable shade of pink.

But then there’s the Adam who can hardly get a polite word out when he talks to me. The Adam who clearly has beef with his twin. Histwin.I mean, what’s that all about? I could ask Georgia—I’m sure she knows. But, I also have a lot riding on this job. I’ve got to keep a level of professionalism between Georgia and me—sheismy boss, even if she calls me a sidekick instead of an employee. Needling her for town gossip isn’t the way to prove I’m doing my part to make the HGTV show happen.

So I’ll figure it out on my own. If I suss out what little I know about Adam and Zach, it’s got to be something to do with their different visions of what Paradise should be. But, I have a feeling there’s more to it than that.

I’ve got my own family drama, so I’m pretty attuned to other people’s. Disagreements can rarely be boiled down to one thing. Usually there’s a long list going back years to one point of hurt. That’s where the story really begins.

And I think I’d like to know Adam’s story. As a friend, of course. Nothing more. I bet there are a lot of layers to it.

But just as I decide I wouldn’t mind seeing more of him, Adam is nowhere to be found. Not at Britta’s, not at the grocery store, not even at Grandma Rose’s. Demo is done, so I won’t be seeing him there anymore. I try The Garden of Eatin’, but every time I’m there, it’s busy. I see him, but we don’t talk.

This goes on for days, most of which I spend in the spare room I’m turning into my office. A room that also happens to face the driveway I share with Adam. Every time Rosie barks (which is A LOT), my eyes dart to the window to see if Adam is pulling into the garage. Not even decorating my office—a thing I love—can hold my attention.

Finally, at the end of the week, he pulls into the driveway and doesn’t turn around and leave again five minutes later. I close the box I just opened. I’m not up for anymore unpacking or trying to stay focused. There’s no point pretending not to think about Adam when I can hear him downstairs. I can’t hear the actual words he says to Rosie, but I can feel their warmth with each happy bark Rosie gives him.

At least, I think they’re happy barks. They make Adam happy anyway. He’s making a sound that could easily be mistaken for laughter if it weren’t coming from him.

I decide to go to his place. The only reason I can think of for doing so is to talk to him about Rosie’s barking. Our first conversation about her didn’t go great, so I have to work up the nerve to try again.

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