15. Chapter 15

I hear Bear on the other side of the door after I lock it. My body shakes as I press my back to the barrier between us. I want so badly to go back to him, back to his arms around me, and his lips pressed to mine, so I'm not thinking about anything except that moment. But the words, "you should smile more" keep ringing in my head in Captain Markham's voice.

Those aren't the exact words Bear said, but they're close enough to the ones Markham said to me more than once while I was trapped against a wall, his hands on either side of my shoulders. I still smell his coffee and cigarette breath as he leaned inches from my face, telling me how much he liked my smile.

It was a game he liked to play with me. One I laughed off the first few times he did it because I was new and thought maybe it was a sort of hazing for the new detectives on his team. But then he started sending me to get supplies out of the backroom and followed me in. Or asked me to stay late and then it was only the two of us in the office. I told him more than once to cut it out, but he'd start up again within a few days.

Captain Markham never touched me, and he never said anything inappropriate in front of the rest of the squad. He'd just find ways to corner me, then walk a careful line between harassment and assault. I'm grateful I can't accuse him of assault, but harassment is a lot harder to prove.

I know what grooming is—a predator initiates non-sexual contact to find out how someone will react to them pushing boundaries—but I didn't see that's what Markham was doing to me. The fact I'm a cop only makes that more difficult to accept. If I think about it for too long, I get pulled into a shame cyclone. I know I shouldn't blame myself, but I can't stop the thought that I should have stopped him the first time he said something to me. Or that if I'd put up a clear wall, he would have known there was a line he couldn't cross.

I don't know what just happened with Bear. Not assault or harassment, obviously. I wanted to kiss him every bit as much as he wanted to kiss me. The tension between us has been building since I came back to Paradise, and something had to release the pressure. I'm not sorry it was a make-out session that did it.

But that's all it was.

Bear and I don't have any kind of emotional connection. Physical chemistry isn't enough for me to let my guard down. In fact, it's even more reason to keep it up. I can't let myself get blindsided by another man who wants to impede my dreams. Especially not another one who only sees me for my looks.

Bear telling me he liked my smile brought me back to reality. And the reality is, we're fighting for the same place, and he's proven he'll use whatever tactics he can to get it. We both have. That's not why I kissed him, but I don't trust that's not why he kissed me.

What Markham says I did to him, I actually did to Bear—sent signals I was attracted to him. I don't know how I did that with the captain, but I definitely flirted with Bear. I practically begged him to kiss me. I can't blame him for seeing an opportunity and taking it if it gets him closer to what he wants.

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 pbj 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 besides think 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, my nervous 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 will not be 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 get right 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."

Georgia sits up straighter, all business. "He wants to make sure the foundation is sound. Because of its age and proximity to the irrigation pond and the lake, he's worried the shop could flood."

"Should I be worried?" I ask.

Zach shakes his head. "Grandpa's being extra cautious. In his words, he doesn't want his honor questioned if anything happens to the shop after he sells. But if it had foundation issues, they would have shown up in the first 20 years after it was built. It's been updated multiple times, aside from the plumbing—which we'll have Bear check—and you won't find a more solid building."

His confidence reassures me, but if the shop has been through multiple updates, it may be even older than I thought.

"How old is the building?" I ask. "I thought it was built in the sixties or seventies." Granted, that's old in California time, but not in real-world time.

"Zach's way-back grandfather built it in the early 1900s," Georgia says, then looks adoringly at her husband, who nods.

"He was a blacksmith. When cars came along, he converted his business to the first auto shop in Paradise Valley." Zach's voice swells with a pride that I didn't expect.

"Wow. That's pretty cool." I knew the building went back a long way in their family, but I didn't know it went back more than a hundred years. That's a big deal. And I don't know if kissing Bear worked some kind of magic on me, but I'm a little more sympathetic to his wanting to hold on to it.

I take a breath and voice a new worry. "I'm surprised you're okay selling a piece of your family's history."

"It's been sitting there empty for years. I'd rather have it turned into something new than turn to dust." Zach shrugs as though that's all there is to it. "Buildings age much faster when they are vacant, little things—like a leak or a, um, rodent problem—get out of hand because no one is paying regular attention. In a way, you purchasing it will preserve our family history. Grandpa likes that he's making a decision that influences its use, instead of us having to decide after he's gone. He feels good about this and so do we."

My eyes dart to the kitchen before returning to Zach.

"Except for Bear."

"Except for Bear," he agrees, then lifts his shoulders.

Everything he said makes sense on a practical level. But for someone like me who doesn't know much about my family beyond my parents, I can't imagine not wanting to hold on to something my great-grandparents had built. I hesitate, pointing this out to Zach or doing anything that might change his grandpa's mind about selling, but I also don't want any of the Thomsens or Sparks to regret their decision.

"But your dad and Bear still use it, right?" I ask carefully. "Is it possible someone else in your family might want to renovate it or do something else with it someday?"

Zach shakes his head. "Bear wants to tear it down so the city can turn it into a park that includes the irrigation pond. That's what he's petitioning the city to do—use eminent domain to buy it and tear it down."

I stare at Zach. There's no way I heard him right.

"Wait… He wants to tear it down?" I look from him to Georgia, who joins his nodding.

"Tear it down?" I repeat. "That's why he's trying to stop me from buying it—with mice and threats and," I stop myself from saying, kissing. "So he can tear it down?"

My voice goes heavy and Georgia's eyes widen.

"For his hockey team," she says quickly. Like that makes tearing down a historic building okay. "So they'll have a place to practice. He wants the lot the shop is on for parking and an outdoor shelter closer to the pond."

I look back at Bear in his apron, chopping something, but all I can really see is someone who's willing to use whatever tactics he can to get what he wants, including seduction. And now I'm even more sure that's what happened between us. I thought we were competing for a building, but what he wants is the land. Which means—despite what he said about figuring out a solution that will work for both of us—only one of us can win.

I shake my head in disbelief at both Bear and what Georgia has said. "Giving kids a place to play hockey doesn't make tearing down the building any better. There's not one other place in Paradise where they could practice?"

Georgia and Zach look at each other before Zach answers, "Right now, the only place is that pond. That's why we had the game yesterday. Depending on when you close on the building and the developers close on the land, it may be the last time we all play together."

I look between them. "I don't understand why I can't have my bookstore and Bear have his hockey rink. Why is it one or the other?"

Zach leans back. "There's not enough parking in front of the shop and the buildings on either side. Right now, the flower shop and antique store are the only businesses open. Once you have a bookstore there and the other buildings are occupied, you'll need a parking lot. The only place for it is the alley behind them, which would fill almost all the area between the building and the pond."

"But there's room for both." I still don't see a problem with both of us getting what we want.

Georgia jumps in. "There's not room for the shelter Bear needs for his team and the bookstore. Zoning laws won't allow it. That parcel of land is owned by Grandpa, and it's not big enough to split."

"Why can't he have his shelter on the other side of the pond?" I'm not ready to give up on a solution that doesn't make me the bad guy.

Britta comes with our food, and Georgia gives her a quick glance before explaining, "The city has already said they don't want a pond so near a commercial area without any green space separating them. If you get the shop, there'd be a parkinglotbetween your bookstore and the pond instead of open space."

"Are you talking about Bear's proposal?" Britta asks Georgia, before pivoting to set my chicken pot pie in front of me. "Trust me, we've talked through every option to get our team a place to play. The pond is the best solution. Tearing down the shop provides the green space the city wants. Without green space, the city won't put up the money to keep the pond. Lynette will sell it with the rest of her property and it will get developed into condos."

"So basically, no park, no pond?" I ask.

"Exactly," Britta says firmly, but not unkindly.

I figured Britta was on Bear's side in all this, but now I know for sure. At the same time, I don't know how to take what she's said with the way she said it. Almost as if she's sorry it has to be the way it is.

Which only makes me want to try harder to find some way Bear and I can both win. "Why doesn't the city build a rink? Wouldn't that cost as much as building a park? And wouldn't that be a lot better ice to play on? It seems as though you'd have more control over keeping it frozen than depending on the weather."

"Exactly, but the city won't spend the money to buy a rink or build a park, so it's a moot point," Zach says with visible frustration. "Bear is fighting a losing battle."

I take one of my own fries and chew slowly, determined not to look at Bear. "I guess it makes sense why he hates me if he feels like I'm impeding his one option."

"He doesn't hate you," Georgia says in an unconvincing tone.

"I don't know." Britta steals one of Zach's fries. "Especially after the cats…not to be rude or anything."

She flashes me a quick smile, but I don't know if she's offering an apology or trying to scare me. She and Bear could be plotting together to get me out of town.

"That was an accident. I swear." An uncomfortable warmth spreads through my whole body.

"Don't you mean a cat-astrophe." Britta doesn't break a smile or blink.

I let out an awkward laugh, hoping she's making a joke. Because if she likes a good pun, we can definitely be friends. But if she's throwing out puns as a weapon, I'm in trouble.

"Been saving that for a few days, Britt?" Georgia asks.

Zach blocks Britta from taking another fry. "I already made a funnier joke about Bear going into anaphy-cat-lic shock."

Britta's face cracks into a wide smile, and she laughs. "That is good." Then she glances at the empty dining room and slides into the seat next to me. "If your bookstore were in any other spot in Paradise, I'd be rooting for you. But this team is too important to both Bear and me."

I nod and take a sip of water while I consider everything they've said. I arrive back at getting an indoor rink built. "What about finding a donor or sponsor for the rink? Someone who wants their name on an ice rink? Has Bear tried that?"

Britta purses her lips and shakes her head with a tiny pulsing. "Mom tried years ago when I wanted to play hockey. She had fundraisers, pursued donors, begged…" Her mouth ticks into a sad grin. "Nothing worked."

Our table goes silent, but Georgia tips her chin up and scans the ceiling, which means an idea is brewing. "Maybe we could try again, but outside of Paradise. I know people in LA who are always looking for causes to donate to."

She drops her chin. Her gaze and wide smile land on me. I know exactly what she's thinking.

"Dexter?" I ask her.

"He's worth a try, right?"

"Who's Dexter?" Britta asks.

"Our neighbor in LA," Georgia answers. "He's a pro surfer, but he's got connections. He could help us find a donor."

"Pro surfer?" Britta's next words get swallowed by the sound of something crashing in the kitchen, and Adam's cursing that follows. "That's my cue to get back to work, but I want to hear more about this guy," she says as she slides out of the chair and heads toward the kitchen.

As soon as Britta is gone, Zach turns to Georgia. "Do not set my sister up with a pro surfer, no matter how much she begs."

I laugh, but when Zach doesn't and Georgia gives him her don't-tell-me-what-to-do look, I change the subject.

"So why has your grandpa held onto the building for so long? He could have sold it or torn it down years ago, right?" My question comes out more critical than I intend. "I mean, in California, property taxes are too high to let anything sit empty for even a few months, let alone decades."

"Grandpa owned the building free and clear, and the taxes weren't high, so it was worth it for him to basically keep it as a storage unit. He kept his boat in there for a long time and a lot of extra stuff Grandma didn't want at their house," Zach explains around bites of his specialty hamburger.

Georgia glances at him, then with a micro eye-roll, faces me. "The truth is, Grandpa Sparks is a lot more sentimental about that place than he lets on. He wants to help Bear, but he'd have a really hard time with it being torn down."

Zach gives a begrudging nod to his wife. "You're probably right. He even went through the entire process of getting the building designated as a historic site by the state committee, then changed his mind before getting the final approval from the city council after Bear told him what he wanted to do with it and the pond."

"Why would historic status make a difference?" I ask.

"If the city and Grandpa both sign the approval for the building to be historic, the outside can't change and it can't be torn down." Zach wipes his mouth and takes a long sip of his Coke.

"So we're back to no park, no pond?" I already know the answer, but I'm still putting in place all the pieces of the story I've learned today.

Zach nods and sets down his drink. "Bear knows Grandpa did him a favor, letting him submit his proposal instead of Grandpa turning in the historic status paperwork. As hard as he thinks the old man is being on him, Grandpa's risking letting the shop be torn down in order for Bear to get what he wants. But he's going to make Bear work for it."

I'm about to ask Zach to elaborate when Britta comes back to refill our drinks. As she's filling my water, her eyes dart to the kitchen and mine follow. Bear is looking intently at both of us in a way that makes my skin buzz and my eyes drop to his lips.

Britta cups her hands around her mouth. "Don't worry! I told her I'm on your side in this fight."

"It's not a fight!" Bear and I say at the same time.

Our eyes meet, and he smiles. Before I can stop myself, I smile back, then quickly look away, remembering that I can't trust him.

"Uh huh," Britta says before calling back to Bear. "Then why don't you put down the spatula and come say hello? There's no one else here."

"That doesn't mean I don't have work for him to do," Adam calls back before giving Bear one reluctant nod of permission before mumbling what sounds like, "I'm on your side, too. Paradise doesn't need any more change."

Bear slips off his apron and comes out of the kitchen into the dining room.

When he reaches our table, I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes. "Hello." He swivels his head, so the greeting isn't just for me, but then he turns his attention to me. "Any cats left?"

I hesitate, sizing up him and his intentions. Is he pretending he wasn't at the shop long enough last night to know there're no cats left? Has he really not said anything to Britta or Zach?

"They're definitely out of the shop," I say.

Which is the truth—mostly. Willy Wonkat is in the studio. I won't let him in

the shop.

"I'm cleaning out some more stuff tomorrow before practice on Thursday," Bear says, matter-of-fact, looking past me rather than at me.

"Thank you for letting me know and… I'm sorry about the cats. I didn't mean for things to get that out of hand." I keep my voice measured, playing along with his game, wondering if he's telling me he'll be there so I won't be.

Or…is he saying it because he wants me to be there? Because he wants to pick up where we left off. On top of the Mustang, kissing my neck and —

—I put a stop to that train of thought and send Bear a silent warning that we will not be traveling that path again.

He gives me a curt nod, then walks back to the kitchen.

Fine with me. My food goes down easier now that I've made it clear—I think—that we are not friends—or enemies, even—with benefits.

Especially because I've got an idea that involves using Zach's info that the shop is historic. And, if my idea works, it will ruin any chance Bear has of getting the city to tear down the shop.

Along with any chance of us ever being more than enemies.