Page 24 of Bear In A Boutique
Cupping his hands around his face, he peered into one of the side windows. The interior was partially finished. There was a narrow sleeping platform made from plywood in the back, a miniscule kitchen area along the side wall, hosting a single convection burner for cooking, and a small, dented refrigerator nestled between two lower cupboards. A bucket acted as a sink, and from what he could tell, it was cracked. The floor was only half tiled, and the walls were painted several different colors as if the owner had been comparing swatches and never decided on one.
Estes Park had its share of ‘van lifers’, people who traveled to warm places in the winter and cooler places in the summer while living in their decked-out, luxury vans. This pile of junk was barely suitable for an overnight camping trip in the backyard. It would take some work and a fair amount of cash to be functional. What the hell did Olive want with this thing?
His phone pinged with a notification, but Ryker left it in his pocket. He knew what the message was. He’d finally read the job offer email and sent a reply that he needed a couple of days to decide. Why the hell he didn’t accept the offer right away was a Goddamned mystery and now his time was up. They wanted his decision immediately, and the unopened voicemail from Denver pinging his phone was probably to that effect.
He was at war with himself over what to do. Getting out of Estes Park was all he’d been able to think about since going to fire school. The opportunity to do just that was staring him in the face, and he couldn’t commit.
If he was being honest with himself, everything he thought he wanted was turned on its head the day he helped rescue Olive. Until that moment, he’d been dead set on finishing fire training and getting the hell out of town. After that moment, nothing made sense.
He’d made his little problem a million times worse, hadn’t he? Kissing her, pressing her body against him yesterday, feeling her curves like they were made for his hands only made him more unsure of what he wanted.
And here he was at the boutique, about to torture himself even more.
The bell jingled above the door when he walked in. The boutique was empty of customers, the scent of fresh coffee thick in the air. His stomach flipped with anticipation as he scanned the room for Olive. Sleep had completely eluded him last nightafter memories of their make-out session replayed in his mind on repeat, which made him restless and tense.
He didn’t feel much better now.
“Olive?””
Catching a whiff of her vanilla scent, he followed it through the boutique to the staircase that led to her apartment. He found her on the fourth step from the bottom, her hips caught in a form-fitting orange skirt, a fluttery gray blouse with wide sleeves, and sandals with a ribbon that wrapped around her calves.
Fuck, she looked beautiful… and distracted.
Motionless, she stared at her phone, oblivious.
“Olive.”
Her brow furrowed as she scrolled her screen with her thumb. Concern pumped through him at the distraught expression on her face. This was the second time he’d witnessed her stuck to her phone like this, and whatever she was reading wasn’t good.
Ryker went up one step and lightly touched her forearm. “Hey.”
Eyes wide, she jerked away from him with a gasp. Her phone went flying, and her body tipped backward. Grabbing her with one hand, he somehow caught her phone with the other. She gripped his wrist and held on tighter as their eyes met.
“You scared the hell out of me!”
“I was trying not to.”
She ran a shaky hand over her hair. “I’m okay.”
He reluctantly let go of her. Alarm pounded in his chest at her distress. He couldn’t fix it if he didn’t know what was wrong and he wanted to fix it, more than anything.
“What’s going on?”
She looked down, but he lifted her chin. “Look at me. Olive, something’s wrong. Talk to me.”
“Where’s my phone?”
He wanted to press her but suspected she’d only shut down more if he did. She didn’t owe him anything and he didn’t have the right to dig into her business, but that didn’t stop the desire to fix what was wrong.
He glanced at the phone, catching one word in a text message.Bitch.
Olive grabbed the phone from his palm and slid it into her pocket. Who the hell was talking to her like that? Oh, hell no. He wanted a name, and he wanted it now.
“Please, don’t ask.”
Her soft voice settled over his rising fury. She realized he’d seen the text, but she expected him not to ask? Breathing hard, he clenched his hand into a fist. Grinding his jaw, he chose his words carefully. “You can talk to me, Olive.”
“Thank you.”
