Page 92 of (Not So) Famous in Paradise

“No, what you love is taking care of people.” I let my hand slip from his chest, “accidentally” grazing his abs on the way down. “What happens when the independence you think you love becomes the thing you hate? Because youneedto feel needed, Zach. And I’m not good at needing people.”

Zach lets out a long breath and shakes his head. “Everybody needs people, Georgia, so you’re just going to have to get better at it,” he says, his annoyance obvious with each word he emphasizes.

With a huff, he stops. “And I’m going to get better at not being a hero.” His lip curves into a smile. “But not today.”

“Turn the camera on, Nick!” He yells without breaking eye contact with me.

Then Zach pulls me so close my chest is pressed into his. Heat spreads from his hand holding my waist over my entire back, and his smile threatens to melt me.

But it’s the kiss that follows that does it. My fears evaporate in his arms and on his lips.

Chapter 38

Zach

When I’m sure Nick has the shot he needs, I use superhuman strength to pull away from Georgia. I want to keep kissing her, but there’s one thing I want even more: to fix this dumb permit problem.

Not because I want to rescue her (I do, but I’m trying to keep my ego in check here), but because I want to fix my mistake. Especially because she’s the one who’s going to pay for it.

“I’ve gotta go.” My hands are still on her hips, unwilling to let go, so I pry them away. “Tell Ike we’re not using lawyers for this.”

I grab my jacket from the table, then jog outside to my Bronco. Dark clouds hang overhead, ready to dump a spring snowstorm on Paradise. Tiny flakes are already falling and a dusting of snow covers my windshield.

I’m almost to my truck when I stop short. Carly is parked behind the trailer, just getting out of her car.

“Zach! I’m so glad you’re here!” she says, rushing toward me. “I need your help.”

In my surprise, I don’t move. But when she reaches me, I realize I don’t care what she needs. I have more important things to do. I brush her aside with a “not now,” and jump in my truck. Then I tear out of the driveway and speed back to the city offices.

I get as far as Huckleberry and Main before lights flash in my rearview mirror. I’m only a quarter mile away, but I worry a high-speed chase may give Ted Tuttle a heart attack. So I pull over and wait close to a millennium for Ted to push every siren button until he finds the one that silences it but leaves the lights spinning.

Then there’s a second millennium while Ted gets out of his squad car, takes a few steps, turns around, gets his hat, puts it on. Takes a few more steps, turns back around, opens the door again. The top half of his body disappears behind the door, leaving only his very rotund bottom visible.

During the third millennium, Ted extracts himself from his car, ticket book in hand, shuts the door, adjusts the waistband of his pants, takes a step, and stops again. He’s turning back to his car when I jump out of mine.

“Ted!” I yell.

He swings around faster than a man half his age and half his size, gun in hand, finger on the trigger. Pointed at me.

I throw my hands into the air. “Ted! Officer Tuttle! It’s me, Zach Thomsen.”

He squints at me, then slowly lowers his gun. “You’re not supposed to get out of your car, Zach. You’ve been pulled over enough for speeding to know that.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I start to lower my arms, but he stops mid-way to holstering his revolver, and I raise them even higher. “I deserve the ticket. But I really need to get to the city offices and talk to Sheryl. Is there any way we could finish this there?”

Ted holsters his gun, checks his watch, then shakes his head. “She’s closing up right now.”

I check the time on my own watch, which is above my head with the hands I still have in the air. “It’s not five yet.”

“She likes to close up early on Tuesdays.” Ted meanders my way. “You can put your hands down, son. I just wanted to scare some sense into you. Gun’s not even loaded.”

When he reaches me, he hooks his thumbs over the top of his belt. “Now what do you need from Sheryl?”

I explain to him about the permit and Darlene, which makes him scoff with disgust and shake his head. And since I’ve obviously got his support, I go on to tell him how Georgia is so stubborn when it comes to getting help, and he nods his head in agreement. He’s her first cousin once removed, so he should know.

When I finish, he scratches his head, making his hat bob up and down. “Well, let me get that ticket written, and we’ll see if we can catch Sheryl before she leaves.”

He starts back to the squad car, then turns around. “I’m joshing you, son. Pull your vehicle all the way off the road and you can ride with me.”

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