Page 9 of Sweet Heart for the Bear

And yet…

Something tells me she’s capable of capturing all my attention.

I steal another glance at her. She’s busy, hands on her hips as she watches me take it all in, a smirk playing at her lips.

It’s not the kind of look that saysI don’t notice you.

It’s the kind that saysI definitely do.

Damn.

Yeah. She issomething.

“Yeah, my sister painted it. She’s a real artist. Did the logo, too.”

I smile at the hint of pride in her voice. That’s nice.

Family is supposed to be proud of one another. Supportive.

I suppose Josh is like that. I should call him more.

“So, you own this place?”

“Uh huh,” she says, and turns away.

But before she does, I notice her smile dim a little, and I swear I hear her say ‘for now’ at the end of that sentence.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I follow her to the table she selects for me and Uncle Uzzi.

“Let me grab you a menu,” she says and turns around to get one from the counter, giving me a terrific view of her fantastic ass.

“See anything you like?” Uncle Uzzi asks, and the old man is grinning.

“Um, yeah, I like all pizza,” I reply, fighting my blush when she spins back to face me her mouth fashioned in a cute littleo.

“So, we have daily specials, you can see them here. The rest is our standard menu. How about drinks?”

“My dear, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Now, do my eyes deceive me, or do you really make homestyleSouthern sweet tea?” Uncle Uzzi asks.

“My name is Carina, and yes, we do,” she says, and is smiling back at him.

Once more, I find myself in the awkward position of wanting to punch the old Witch. I manage to control myself.

Barely.

“My sisters and I visited Georgia as teenagers, and we fell in love with the stuff,” she explains.

For some reason, my heart squeezes when she says theLword.

“I’ll have a glass, please,” Uzzi replies easily. “What about you, Horace?”

“Your name is Horace?” she interrupts.

Her big brown eyes are locked on my face and fuck me if the whole world doesn’t tilt a little on its axis.

“Yeah. Horace Vanderbilt,” I say and offer my hand like a complete dolt.

This isn’t a business meeting, for fuck’s sake. But I can’t help it.

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