Page 8 of Sweet Heart for the Bear

Of course, I do.

“Are we too early to dine in?” Uncle Uzzi replies.

“No! No, not at all. Follow me,” she says, then offers a sweet smile to the old man.

She is so damn cute, but I’m kinda stuck between wanting to growl at him for talking to her and wanting to thank him for being the only one of us capable of answering the lovely little female.

“Wow,” I say, pointing at the mural that completely covers one entire wall, as if words alone could do it justice.

It’s a cityscape.

No, it’smorethan that.

It’smyblock.

The bottom half of my building, the familiar fire escapes, the bodega with the dusty cat in the window, even the crooked stop sign that leans a little too far to the left like it’s had one too many drinks.

It’s all there in varying shades of black and white, inked with painstaking detail.

But there’s one splash of color.

One bold, unapologetic pop ofhot pink.

A sign.Hersign.

The store’s name stands out against the monochrome world around it.

Pizza Girls—the words in bold black letters, impossible to miss.

I glance from the mural to her, my gaze flicking to the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing, bearing the same logo.

Pizza Girls. She’s the walking, talking,breathingembodiment of the place.

And yeah. Shebreathesreal good.

The shirt is big—probably meant to be casual, unassuming—but it’s fighting a losing battle trying to hide what’s underneath.

She’s curves on curves. A masterpiece of soft, strong, and stunning. Every breath she takes causes the fabric to stretch across her bountiful breasts.

My body reacts before my brain can issue any kind of command.

Shit.

I clear my throat, forcing myself tocalm the fuck downbefore I embarrass myself in broad daylight.

I already know—know—this woman is off-limits.

She works here, which means I’ll be eating here often.

I’m a sucker for good food, especially local joints. And this place?

It’sliterally downstairs.

The last thing I need is to get tangled up in some awkwardthingwith the hot pizza girl who happens to be serving my favorite slices.

And it’ll be awkward cause I’m that guy, remember?

The curious Bear with zero attention span.

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