Page 50 of The Grumpy Side of Paradise

When he pulls the trigger, my whole body jolts with the force of the nail shooting into the wood. Adam cushions the blow. I’m not just wrapped in his arms; I’m wrapped in his whole body. I fit there perfectly, like a bird in a nest. It’s warm and safe. And it feels very, very good.

Also, my nail gun tutorial counts as another Avoiding Adam fail.

“Ready for the next one?” He rasps in my ear and shivers shoot down my spine.

I nod and he scoots both of us over a few inches to the next spot.

And the next one.

And the one after that.

And many, many more.

Then Blaine appears out of nowhere. Or, at least, he seems to. Adam and I are too distracted to notice anything besides my very thorough nail gun training.

“I’m ready to work.” Blaine stands assertive and sure, his words only slightly slurred, and his face blank.

Adam nods. “Start on the west side.”

Then he turns the nail gun over to me. “I’ll be close if you need help, but I think you can handle it.”

By this point, I’m more qualified to use a nail gun than I am to drive a car, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to give up Adam’s “help.” Not that using the gun isn’t still exciting—I feel very powerful—it’s just exciting in a different way. No shivering or pulse-racing involved.

I don’t stay the whole day. I can tell I’m slowing things down once Blaine is back in the picture, so I go home to work.

As soon as I walk in the door, I text Georgia.Crossing use nail gunoff my bucket list.Thoughts of Adam still fill my head when my phone buzzesa little later. The text from Georgia is two words:Tell me.

I slide onto my couch. My cheeks hurt from smiling when I reply with one word.Adam.

She replies with a gif of a woman screaming and waving her hands in front of her face. Which is exactly what I’m doing inside. Because I think I might really like this guy. I know it’s crazy. I don’t know if I’ll be in Paradise for another couple of months or another couple of years. I definitely don’t have any plans right now to stay forever.

But I’m getting way ahead of myself with that. One day at a time. That’s the approach I have to take with this thing between Adam and me. Because there’s definitely something happening.

My phone buzzes again. One glance at Georgia’s next message brings me crashing back to reality.

You haven’t said anything to him about the project, right?

No,I text back. Rosie barks at the same time the guilt I’ve kept tucked away pokes its ugly head from its hiding spot.How much longer until we know?

Soon.Georgia answers.I’ve got a meeting with the producer next week. I need more posts about the progress. Today would be great content. Did you take pics?

No.I hadn’t even thought about it. I was too distracted thinking about other things. Important things. Like the way Adam’s muscles bulged under his t-shirt every time he fired the nail gun.I’ll get some tomorrow.

Except, I can’t be around Adam all day, every day, while keeping a secret from him. I have to keep my distance until Georgia knows for sure what’s happening with the show.

Which is only a week. After that, I can be honest with Adam about why I’m here and how I feel. I can do anything for a week. Including avoid Adam.

In a town the size of a walnut.

When he lives right downstairs.

And I’ve had two major fails already in trying to avoid him.

Hardest of all, every cell in my body is screamingNOOOOat the idea of not seeing or talking to him for seven whole days.

Seven days isn’t a long time if Georgia gets the go-ahead on her project. If she doesn’t, it’s a lot of days not to spend with Adam out of the short time I’ll have left in Paradise.

What are the odds of this thing happening?I ask her.

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