19. Chapter 19
Bear's Jeep is still parked in the alley when Georgia drops me off after we get to do a little shopping-therapy and I've worked through most of the squirrel-induced trauma of the afternoon. She's agreed to keep Willy Wonkat for the night until Bear can find somewhere else to keep the squirrels. She's also played mediator between Bear and me via numerous text messages, getting him to agree to replace my broken dishes and torn curtain.
I already bought a new lamp to replace the broken one. A new used one, anyway. I found a perfect replacement at a local thrift shop, along with another find—ice skates that are only one size too big—I tucked safely in a bag.
They were an impulse buy. Obviously. I've only skated a few times, but I figured I'd give it a try on the pond Bear's so determined to keep. Maybe it will help me understand why it's so special, even if I'm not giving up my crazy dream of having a bookstore.
Or maybe I've got a romantic notion of him teaching me to skate in a place that means so much to him. I don't know. I only know I can't get his words out of my head that our kiss meant something to him. It wasn't a spontaneous mistake like I assumed.
I'm not sure what to make of that, and I was hoping I'd have time to process before I saw him again. He'd told Georgia he was almost done cleaning up. We thought by the time we got from her house to the shop, he'd be gone.
He's not.
Now I don't know whether to be excited or scared about that. I have no time to plan what to say to him. No time to figure out how I feel about him.
"Do you want to go back to my place for a little longer?" Georgia asks, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. "I'm sure he'll be done soon."
I'm tempted to take her up on her offer, but I'm a big girl. I'm not afraid of squirrels or Bear.
So I climb out of the car, carrying my skates and my lamp inside.
I'm both relieved and disappointed when I open the door and find the only unexpected visitor still in the studio is Britta. The squirrels are gone, and the whole place is sparkling clean. In fact, it's as clean as it was before Willy and the squirrels got to it.
"Wow," I say as I close the door behind me. "This looks amazing. Thank—"
"—You can't do this." Bear sneezes, then holds up a piece of paper with the state seal of Idaho on it.
His demand snuffs out the flicker of excitement I'd had when I walked in and saw him. I know exactly what's in his hand and why he's upset.
I also know that Bear doesn't have any right to tell me what I can or can't do. "What do you mean, I can't do it?"
"I mean…" Bear sneezes into his elbow and wipes his knuckle under his eye. "This place isn't historic. It's an old shop not worth anything except for the ground it's on. Paradise doesn't need it or a bookstore."
I walk across the room, stand toe-to-toe with him, and take the application from between his fingers. "Your grandpa knows it's historic and both your grandparents think a bookstore is a great idea. A better idea than tearing down his father's shop that's been here for over a hundred years."
Britta tries to step between us. "I think what Bear means is that maybe we could talk about it before you turn in the application to the city council."
Neither Bear nor I move. Our eyes are fastened tight together over Britta's shoulder. Rage simmers in the inches between us, the heat binding us like welded metal.
"What I mean," he says through gritted teeth. "Is that I won't forgive you for doing this. You shouldn't be here. You're ruining everything."
Bear's words rumble through me, knocking loose the anger I've kept in check since being put on administrative leave while Captain Markham gets to stay on duty, telling everyone the same words Bear just said to me.
Detective Lee doesn't belong on the force. Detective Lee messes up every case she works on.
"You won't forgive me? You've spilled coffee on me, insulted me in public at the wedding, filled my apartment full of mice, then full of squirrels, and treated me like a second-rate citizen since I got here three weeks ago, and you won't forgive me?" I lean so close, I feel the heat coming off Bear's body. The smell of pine, with a hint of cinnamon, radiates from his skin.
That shouldn't excite me when I'm this mad.
"I've tried to apologize for all of those things, and I told you what I was trying to do when I spilled the damn coffee," Bear says, throwing up his enormous arms that seem to fill the whole room. "I paid for your stupid expensive shirt. I bought traps for the mice. I put this entire place back together when it was your cat's fault it got torn apart!" His voice rises in volume but gets deeper, reverberating through my chest.
"Don't blame Willy for this!" I poke my finger at Bear's chest.
It's like poking rock.
"Guys, guys…" Britta tries again to separate us.
She might as well try to demagnetize a magnetic field. I'm no scientist, but I know that's as impossible as it is to stop the pull I feel toward Bear.
I have no desire to stop the process I've already put into motion of getting historic status for the shop, but seeing Bear's mouth this close fills me with the same uncontrollable desire to kiss him I gave into before.
How can one man be this maddening? My career is about keeping my emotions on the back burner, yet time and again he draws them to the surface, making me say and do things I regret later.
I don't want to fight. What I really want is to have those perfect lips on mine and put all my fingers on his chest, not just the tip of one. I want to feel his fingertips digging into my waist as he holds me tight and close.
And I'd tell him to do all of that right now… if Britta weren't here.
Thank God she is.
Passion is passion, whether Bear and I are yelling at each other or giving a nice polish to the hood of his Mustang. Right now, my body is having a hard time telling the difference between the two, and I hate feeling torn in two. Angry enough to hurt Bear while also longing so much for his touch that I take an involuntary step closer.
I've got to bring the temperature down. "I don't want—"
"—Mom taught me how to skate on that pond!" Bear explodes, and the tension between us crumbles into pieces. "I want to keep a piece of her alive after she's gone!"
He steps back, pressing himself against my kitchen table, his chest heaving. Our eyes are still locked, but I follow his lead and put more space between us. His eyes drop from mine, releasing me from my desire, but not from the urge to pull him into my arms and comfort him for the pain that I can now see so clearly.
"Bear…" Britta whispers, touching his arm gently.
He rakes his fingers through his hair, and Britta lets her hand drop. My eyes bounce between them.
"I'm sorry, Bear," I say quietly.
He shakes his head but doesn't meet my eyes. He takes a deep breath, then raises his gaze to mine. "Please don't turn in that paperwork yet. At least give me a chance to convince the city to create a park where the shop is and keep the pond. Mom deserves to have a legacy—a place with her name on it. So people remember her."
I want to tell him okay, if only to wipe the broken look from his face. I want the anger back that was there a few seconds ago. I want the raging giant. As hard as that Bear is to walk away from, it would be easier to tell him what I have to.
This Bear, though, is about to get his heart broken.
"I scanned the application this morning and submitted it online to the city council and the state historical society." I reach for Bear, but he twists away from me.
I push back my hurt and force myself to continue. "Your grandpa's already promised to give the final okay if the city council approves the designation. I'm on the agenda to speak to them on Tuesday about why they should do that and approve my plan to open a bookstore in it."
Bear drops his head and squeezes his eyes shut. When he lifts his head again, the anger is back, but it's laced with hurt. He walks past me without saying a word and lets the door slam behind him.
Britta follows but stops long enough to squeeze my hand. "It will be okay. This is more about him needing to grieve than it is you."
I nod my thanks and push back the lump in my throat.
I wanted to ensure I'd get my bookstore, but not at this cost.