Page 47 of Enemies in Paradise

When the shop’s outside door closes and Bear drive away, I push myself up from the floor. I tell myself I did the right thing, even if I’m left with a giant black hole in the center of my chest.

I shower and get into my pajamas, even though it’s not even eight o’clock. The rest of the night I spend curled on the daybed watching TV while eating a pb&j for dinner, then cuddling Willy Wonkat.

He’s a very good cuddler, and I let him have crust pieces from my sandwich. At some point, I drift to sleep, but Bear fills my dreams.

I wake up with my skin on fire where I dreamed of him touching me. I’m hungry for his kisses and the warmth of his body pressed against mine. As my brain becomes aware of my surroundings, I realize Willy Wonkat is asleep on my chest. I’m too slow to push away the thought that a cat is a poor substitute for a Bear.

I’m tempted to call him and apologize to see if it leads to more kissing. Bear may be young, but he knows what he’s doing when it comes to lips. I’ve never been kissed like that. And I’ve never been carried the way he carried me across the room. That memory heats my blood even hotter than the kissing did.

Which is exactly why I don’t call him. Even if I don’t stop thinking about him the entire day.

Or the day after that.

Thankfully, I’m meeting Georgia for dinner at the Garden of Eatin’, which will give me something else to do besidesthink about Bear. Except, as seven o’clock approaches, I grow more nervous about running into Bear at the Garden—not an unreasonable fear, since he works or plays drums there most nights. I’m not sure if I should be relieved or disappointed that it’s not the weekend, so the band won’t be playing.

I never thought I had a thing for drummers, but watching him play one time convinced me otherwise.

In fact, I blame the memory of Bear on drums—rocking to the beat, sweat dripping over every inch of his arms and chest—for my momentary lapse in judgment. I’ve wondered more than once since that night if he kissed with the same intensity that he plays drums.

The answer is yes. Yes, he does.

Unfortunately for me.

When I get to the Garden, I see Bear’s Jeep and almost turn right back around. But I have to face him sometime, so better sooner than later. I’ll just have to talk to him about what’s happened and make sure he knows it won’t happen again. Besides, I need to talk business with Georgia, and I might as well do it over good food.

Britta is at the hostess stand when I walk inside. My face flushes when she greets me, even though she’s doesn’t act any different from usual. But she and Bear are close, and I wonder if he told her what happened between us. There’s something in her forced smile that makes me think he did.

My eyes bounce from her to Bear, who’s working in the open kitchen. He sends me a questioning look that makes my cheeks grow hotter. Does he think I came here to see him? Does he want to see me? Does he want to kiss me again? Do I want to kiss him again?

My pulse skips wildly, like a kid who just mastered the skill and wants to show it off. In fact, my whole body rebels against all the signals my brain sends it to calm down. Apparently, mynervous system thinks it’s in charge now, and according to it, I want to kiss Bear again.

Very much.

Right now.

Which is not helpful, since we willnotbe repeating our little make-out session from two days ago. No matter how disappointed that thought makes me.

Even if I didn’t suspect Bear kissed me as part of his tactics to get the shop—I’m over hook-ups. I don’t want short-term relationships anymore.

Every time I’ve come to Paradise and seen the Thomsens, I can’t help but want to be part of a big, happy family. I want that for myself. My own happy family. That longing is part of the reason I keep coming back, even if settling here lowers my dating pool prospects by a couple hundred thousand.

Bear and I both wanting the shop lowers my already limited dating prospects by one more body.

And what a body…

By the time I reach the table where Georgia and Zach are sitting, my legs are ready to give out from the effort it took to walk past Bear without looking at him. I sink into the seat across from Georgia, afraid to look her in the eye in case Bear has told her too. Even if he hasn’t, Georgia may read it in my face.

“Hey,” she says in a normal voice. “What do you want to eat? It’s on us tonight.”

Her only focus is on the menu, so I follow her lead. She either doesn’t know or she’s acting as if she doesn’t, and I’m okay with both. I’d love to rehash what happened with someone, just not anyone related to Bear. Which pretty much rules out everyone who lives in Paradise.

The Garden is short-staffed tonight, so Britta is working as hostess and server. She takes our order, but once she leaves, I getright down to business on the off-chance Georgia or Zach were biding their time before asking me questions about Bear.

“I still haven’t heard anything about my loan, and it’s been a week. Do you think I’ll need to come up with a bigger down payment?” That’s been my worry all along. I have some money, but if I have to borrow any more money than we’ve already estimated for repairs, I’ll need more cash for the down payment. Cash I don’t have.

“Hopefully not,” Zach answers. “I’m sure we’ll hear soon.”

“What about the inspector your grandpa sent out? I thought the property had already been inspected.”

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