Page 63 of The Grumpy Side of Paradise

“Really? Huh.” She chews on her bottom lip, and my whole body warms at the thought of doing the same again. Hopefully soon. “I just told him my idea. I think the fact you’re working with me convinced him it was a good one. He said he wouldn’t do it unless you were the one who took it down.”

I shake my head. “Not anyone could talk him into tearing down—”

“Not tear. Take down. I need the wood in good condition so we can use it.” Her eyebrows rise in a warning.

I nod. “Taking down will be slower than tearing down, but I like the idea of reusing the wood for a house that belongs to the same family.”

Britta catches my eye and holds up her order pad, so I slide out of my seat. “Back to work for me.”

“But you’ll do it?” Evie’s whole face lights up.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” I can’t hold back my smile. The work will be tedious and so much harder when I can’t use a backhoe to knock down the house, but I’ve caught Evie’s excitement.

She jumps from her chair and throws her arms around me. “Thank you!” She pulls away before I’m ready, but she keeps her hand on my chest, so I keep mine on her hip. I trace the outline of her hipbone with my thumb, and for a second there’s a different kind of excitement in her eyes.

It passes too quickly, and she steps back. “Just let me know how much you’ll charge for the work. Wally is giving me the wood, but obviously I’ll pay you.” Her eyes do the darting thing again.

“Maybe I could come over later, and we could talk about it?” Talking is what I want to do most. I’m not trying to sound like I only want one thing from her.

But I must sound like a creeper, because she tenses.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. We’re taking things slow, remember?”

I drop my hand from her waist and put a foot or more between us. “Yeah. I remember.”

Evie reaches for my hand, but I pull it away. She’s the one who kissed me first, and she’s the one who just basically threw herself at me. Was I not supposed to touch her or react when she touched me? I can’t figure her out.

“I only wanted to talk.” I back further away from her. My neck burns with the eyes of every person in the restaurant. I swear they’re all looking at me, just like they did on my wedding day. If I could magically teleport myself to the kitchen, I’d do it right now. Flashbacks of standing at the altar waiting for Dakota flood my brain, and I can’t get away from Evie fast enough.

“Wait, Adam,” she calls after me.

“Gotta get back to the kitchen,” I answer.

I don’t look back. There are people to cook for, and that’s what I need to do right now. Sweat over a hot grill and forget about any heat between Evie and me.

Chapter 29

Evie

I leave Adam and The Garden of Eatin’ knowing I made a huge mistake. I pushed him away when all I really want to do is slow down.

I don’t really even want to do that. If I was only interested in kissing him, I would have told him to come over tonight. I would have had someone to keep me warm and something to do besides stare at my designs or watch TV. I wouldn’t worry about the possibility of hurting him.

Rosie is barking when I get home, but I don’t bring her to my place, as much as I’d like to. Even dog company is better than no company. Using Rosie to lure Adam over to my place would be the best of everything, but I won’t do that.

Instead, I go inside, take a shower, then take out my phone. Georgia wants content, so I spend the next few hours creating posts about antlers, coffin handles, and old, falling down houses.

Usually putting together reels and stories for Instagram fills the happy, creative part of my brain. But tonight, every post I create reminds me of Adam and tightens the knot of worry expanding behind my ribcage. None of what I’ve already done or what I have planned could happen without Adam.

He took me shed hunting and Paradise Valley Facebook page searching. Unless he changes his mind about taking down the Lindenhof house, the wood floors I’ll get will be because of him. The most important elements of my design for Grandma Rose’s are all because of his generosity.

I’m reminded over and over that I’m repaying his generosity by keeping secrets from him.

I go still when I hear his door open, then close. My chest constricts with the effort it takes to keep from wanting Adam. Or maybe it’s constricting with the urge to go over and apologize. I could take back everything I said and invite him to my place under the pretext of looking at coffin handles. I don’t even care if kissing doesn’t happen again…

That’s not true.

Of course, I’d care if we didn’t kiss.

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