Page 59 of The Grumpy Side of Paradise

Evie tenses, then sits down, but not next to me. “Yeah.” She draws her own deep breath. “Me neither.”

I realize my words could be taken the wrong way, and I fumble for a way to make them right. “Not that I was expecting to go any further than we did. I wasn’t expecting anything at all. That’s not why I came in.”

Even though she’s right next to me, Evie suddenly feels very far away. Something in her posture has changed. She’s stiff and cold.

I’ve messed up. I moved too fast.

“It’s okay.” She puts up her hands to reassure me, but her voice undoes whatever she’s trying to tell me. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who gave you the wrong idea.”

I freeze. “What do you mean, the wrong idea?” Now I tense. Did I misread her signals? Am I so bad at women now that I thought she wanted me to kiss her when she didn’t?

She fidgets and looks at her fingers, spreading them wide like they might hold the answer she’s looking for. She must find it, because she drops them on her lap and turns to me. “I just mean that we should go slow. I don’t know how long I’ll be here, and—”

I push myself up and shake my head. “I get it. I totally agree. This shouldn’t have happened.” I pick up Rosie, and Evie jumps up.

“That’s not what I mean.” She grabs my arm. “I’m not sorry any of this happened. It was nice.” Her face brightens while her cheeks grow pink. “Really nice. I just” she drops her hand and licks her lips. “I need to figure a few things out first.”

I wait for her to finish, but she doesn’t. Her chest rises, then falls in a deep breath. She’s holding back more than her feelings for me. I don’t know what, but the longing in her eyes—in her whole body, like a sprinter waiting for the starting gun—won’t let me just walk away.

Rosie squirms, trying to get out of my arms. I hoist her tighter under my arm and make my decision. I’m not letting Evie get away.

I move closer and take her hand in my free one. “I really like you, Evie. I think there’s something between us, and it feels like you do too. But I get your hesitation, so I’ll let you decide if we’re going to pursue this or not.”

Her eyes meet mine, and I lean in to kiss her on the cheek. I hope it won’t be the last time I kiss her, but her only response is to squeeze my hand.

I take Rosie back to my place and sink into my couch that’s identical to Evie’s. I stare at the ceiling that divides us and hope that it’s the only thing that will keep us apart. Either way, though, I’ve lowered the wall I’ve worked so hard to keep up since Dakota left. Maybe only a few inches, and maybe nothing else will happen with Evie, but my one step forward feels like a gigantic leap.

Chapter 27

Evie

After Adam leaves, I have to reckon with the complete implosion of my plan to spend time with him while also keeping my attraction to him in check. I should have recognized the flaws in that plan from the beginning. I shouldn’t have ignored the warning signs or brushed aside my first two fails. At the very least, I shouldn’t have thrown the plan out the window the moment Adam rubbed my feet.

Basically, I vastly overestimated my willpower when it comes to being near Adam.

But I won’t make that mistake again. Nope. My only option now that he’s shown me what he can do with his lips is to stay very, very far away from them and him. No matter how much I don’t want to.

I’ve heard rumors his ex is the only person he’s ever kissed, but I don’t believe it. Not after the way he kissed me. He’s very intuitive. He knew exactly what I wanted and how to give it to me. He moved slow, but not too slow. He was both gentle and rough, in a good way. I never felt uncomfortable or pushed faster or further than I’m willing to go.

That’s pretty rare in a man. At least the ones I’ve dated. And the fact that I may be the second woman Adam has ever kissed makes me feel both special and, at the same time, sad for all the women who’ve been deprived of Adam. I may also feel a little threatened by those women, because I definitely don’t want to share him. Not that I have any call to be possessive, but if word gets out about how good he is at kissing, I’m going to have some competition.

So, I’ll just keep my mouth shut about it. Except to Georgia, of course. But I also will not be kissing Adam again for a while. Not until I don’t have anything to keep from him. Which means I only have to avoid him for a few days.

But that feels like an eternity. The mind is willing, but the lips are weak. Or something like that.

The next morning, I go for a run earlier than usual to beat Adam out the door. I don’t take my usual paved path, which means I run on gravel roads and uphill in the freezing cold. Every step I take I curse myself for ever taking up running, but even the pain and the cold can’t take away the hummingbird fluttering in my chest when I replay last night. Just thinking about Adam’s kisses sends heat coursing through my body.

Which is a good thing because I have to run long in order to make sure Adam is gone before I go home. I also have to figure out where to get coffee. Britta’s is too risky. That’s where I’ve run into him a few times, and look where that’s led. Hard core making out, that’s where.

And giving up my favorite coffee and the chance to make out with Adam again all in one day really sucks. To top it all off, when I get home and Adam’s truck is gone, and I’m flooded with disappointment. Why did my new plan have to work so well already?

Rosie barks, but there’s no way I’m bringing her upstairs. That’s even more dangerous than going to Britta’s. So I ignore her and send a text to the coffin handle guy. Today will be the day I find all the hidden treasures. Paradise itself may be bite-sized, but Paradise Valley is giant. I can find a lot of places to drive in order to avoid Adam, Rosie, and every other Thomsen in town.

After showering, I gas up and grab a terrible cup of coffee and muffin that can not compete with Britta’s coffee or ebelskiver. Then I head to Fish Haven. The name is terrible, but the drive along Smuk Lake’s shores to get there is absolutely stunning. Not just because the still, blue waters of the lake are soothingly beautiful, but also because of the structures I pass on my drive.

Every broken-down barn or old brick house I pass begs to have its story told. I stop at one sagging and weathered brown cabin and park the truck. I walk around the house trying to suss out its story. The windows are boarded up, but there’s a spot I’m able to peek through. An old black stove and a broken chair are the only things left inside. The pine walls, though, are solid. And there are a lot of them. They’d be perfect for the floor if I could get them for cheap.

“Can I help you?”

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