Page 79 of Enemies in Paradise

What I know is that I still want my bookstore, and Bear’s the one obstacle getting in my way.

“Our friendship will have to be long distance, obviously, if you get the shop.” I jab my fork into a rogue pea on my plate. “Since it’s the reason I would move to Paradise in the first place.”

“Couldn’t you open your store in another part of town? There are other places to rent or buy.”

I glance at Bear to see if he’s serious. “No, actually, there aren’t. There’s not another building available—at least not in as good a location for business. And, I don’t know if you’re aware…” I tease, but I end up sounding sarcastic. “But bookstores are not the thriving industry they once were, thanks to a little start-up called Amazon.”

Bear nods, chewing on the inside of his lip before pushing away from the counter. “I gotta get to the shop, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He leaves his half-full plate and walks to the door.

“Sounds good. Thanks again…for everything.” I allow myself one look at him, but Bear doesn’t look back before leaving.

His heavy footsteps grow softer the further down the stairs he goes. By the time he reaches the last step, I’m burning with shame for being so open with him.

If he wants to be friends because he feels sorry for me—which is equal parts sweet and humiliating—it’s a no for me. Bear is nicer than most of the men I’ve known—definitely nicer than any of the ones I’ve dated—but he’s throwing off scared-of-me vibes. And I don’t know if getting to know me better would change that.

Bear has lived in a small town his whole life, grown up in a close, seemingly ideal family, and is still in his early twenties. He’s lived in a bubble—still does. He has no idea what the real world is like or how his heart is going to break in a million different ways. When his mom dies, that might be the first of it, but it won’t be the last.

I wish I didn’t know those sorts of things either. But working in the LAPD, I’ve seen more than Bear can imagine. So many things I wish I could forget.

I can’t, but for one night, I’ll pretend I can. I’ll pretend Paradise has always been my reality.

I finish my dinner, wash the plate, then crawl into Bear’s bed, wearing his jersey, and feeling safer than I have in years.

Maybe safer than I’ve ever felt.

Chapter 26

Bear

Women are confusing.

That’s the only conclusion I can come to as I rehash my conversation with Cassie on my drive to the shop. I should have brought Britta with me, partly because my head still hurts and maybe I shouldn’t be driving, and also to help me figure out what’s happened. But I need to process everything before I talk about it.

I thought Cassie ran away the other night because we moved too fast. I thought telling her we should be friends would make her feel safer. Every woman I’ve gone out with isn’t comfortable moving as fast as Cassie and I did, skipping past the basics—like tolerating each other—right to an intense make-out.

But tonight, she was sending all kinds of mixed signals. She intentionally let me see her in a towel again and looked at meas if she wanted to pick up where we left off on Monday. It took everything in me not to find out. If I felt less for her than I do, I would have kissed her. I’d be okay with giving into what I want in the moment instead of waiting for what I really want.

With Cassie, nothing short-term or casual will be enough. She’s the kind of woman a guy would be stupid not to hold on to long term if he had the chance. And, for a few minutes tonight, I thought I might.

I wish she would have been more excited about the idea of being friends. Or even happy about it, especially since it doesn’t sound like she has many. If anything, she seemed kind of annoyed that I offered.

I mean, yeah, friendship might be kind of hard since we’re fighting for the same thing. And I guess I hadn’t thought through the fact that Cassie might not stay in Paradise if she doesn’t get the shop. But she’s not a quitter, and she really wants a bookstore. I figured she’d find a different spot for it, not just leave.

When I pull into the alley behind the shop, I’m almost relieved when I see Georgia’s car there. Maybe she can explain how women’s brains work. Or at least, Cassie’s.

Then I remember the state of the studio, and I know she’ll have something to say about that. In fact, that’s probably why she’s here. Cassie probably texted her, and who knows if she blamed me for the pipe bursting like she did the squirrel disaster.

I go in through the shop, assuming Georgia will be on the apartment side. I need to steel myself before facing her. If she’s got a big-sister-talking-to waiting for me, I want to be prepared for it. I take my time getting the shop vac and a big garbage can, then roll them slowly to the studio.

I’m barely inside the door before Georgia asks, “I’ve heard Cassie’s version. You want to tell me yours?”

She puts her hand on her hip and raises an accusing eyebrow, but she’s wearing rubber boots. Georgia always wears heels. The fact she’s not now means she’s here to help.

“Pipes are old. They burst.” I walk back into the shop to get old towels.

Georgia follows. “And it was a coincidence that they burst on the studio side instead of in the shop? This wasn’t something you planned?”

---