Page 47 of The Grumpy Side of Paradise

“You’re a man of many talents,” I say, held by the same intensity in his eyes that undid all my intentions last night.

Adam’s ice-blue eyes and the thick lashes surrounding them will be my undoing. I don’t know how to put out the fire they ignite every time he looks at me. Worse, I don’t know how towantto put out that fire. I’m already as addicted to the warmth of it as I am to Britta’s coffee.

“Or a man who has two hands and needs a job in a town that doesn’t have much of either.” His cheeks color slightly.

“Do most men here only have one hand?”

His brow creases with confusion.

“You said this town doesn’t have many men with two hands.” I hadn’t really noticed a lot of one-handed men.

His face smooths, and he lets out a laugh. “I mean, there aren’t many men willing to do something that doesn’t take a lot of skill beyond knowing how to work with their hands.”

“You know a lot about how to use your hands.” Heat rises to my cheeks and rushes to my palm. I feel the pressure of Adam’s thumb on it even though we’re not touching.

“You could say that.” His eyes burn into mine. The gray in them isn’t angry anymore. It’s warm and inviting, like the gray cottages in Little Copenhagen that make Smuk Lake look bluer.

And I’m about to let them take me in when I remember that I’m not the guest Adam wants. Not yet. Maybe never.

I put space between us and smile. “We should get to Georgia’s. Are you still requiring hard hats on the job site?”

Adam’s eyebrows squish together for a second, then part, leaving his face expressionless. “Always,” he answers in a tone devoid of emotion. “Thanks, Britta.” He tilts his chin toward his sister, then turns back to me. “I’ll see you there.”

As he walks past me, he allows his fingers to brush mine, sending waves of heat through my body that make me sway in his direction. I draw on all my inner strength to keep from floating after him.

Chapter 22

Adam

I leave Britta’s as frustrated and confused as I was when Evie pushed me out her door last night. I should respect the space Evie keeps trying to put between us, but I can’t. Not when one minute she’s sending me signals she feels the same pull toward me that I do toward her, and the next she’s pushing me away. Not when the pull is stronger than the push.

And I know what push is. At least now I do. I can look back on the last year of my relationship with Dakota and see what I didn’t see then. She worked hard to push me away. I should have seen it in the way she didn’t have as much time for me or the way she broke away from my kisses too soon. I should have heard it in her hesitation to make decisions about everything from wedding food to where we were going to live while we built our house in Paradise.

Evie’s push is different. There’s hesitation in it, a skittishness like Rosie when Dakota and I first adopted her from the shelter. Evie wants to trust, to get comfortable, but there’s something making her nervous. Maybe she’s been hurt like I have. Maybe it’s because our future is likely headed in different directions. Maybe I’m moving too fast—we’ve only known each other a couple weeks. I don’t know.

I do know that I’m not giving up before we even get started.

Ten minutes after I leave Britta’s, while I’m checking the framework of the house, tires crunch over the gravel driveway, alerting me that someone else is at Georgia’s. I will myself not to hope it’s Evie. Britta’s is close enough for her to walk from, and easier to park at than Georgia’s not with all the lumber and tools I’ve got blocking the driveway here.

Turns out it’s Blaine pulling in, but he parks crooked, which is never a good sign. Things get worse when he climbs out of the truck. He drops his hard hat and almost tumbles over when he bends to pick it up. It takes three tries before he’s upright again with the hat on crooked.

I tuck my tape measure back in my belt and slide my pencil behind my ear, ready to send Blaine home. Before I can walk to him, I hear Evie behind me.

“Who’s that?” she asks. She’s watching Blaine as closely as I am.

“That’s my crew,” I sigh and push back my hard hat. I don’t want to embarrass Blaine in front of Evie, but he’s already close enough that there’s no way she won’t hear me send him home. Plus, he’s already embarrassed himself. It’s obvious he overdid it this morning.

“Hey boss.” Blaine doesn’t meet my eyes. He doesn’t even glance at Evie. On his good days, he always greets me with a grin. This is one of his bad days. The worst I’ve seen in a while.

“Hey, Blaine.” I smell the peppermint schnapps on his breath when he’s still a couple of feet away. “Did you hit it a little too hard this morning?” No use beating around the bush.

His eyes dart up like he might deny it, then slowly drop to his feet. He peels off his hat, which causes him to wobble. “It’s the anniversary.”

“I know it is.” I put my hand on his shoulder. Partly to steady him. Mostly because he needs to know I care. “Still can’t let you work, though.”

He nods with his whole body.

“Can’t let you drive either.” I hold out my hand for his keys. His shoulders sag deeper, but he digs them out of his pocket and drops them in my hand.

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