Page 102 of Juniper Bean Resorts to Murder

“Just wait until he hears we’re dating.”

“We aren’t dating.” The words pop out of my mouth before I think them through, before I can decide whether they’re a good idea.

Spoiler alert: they’re not.

“Ah,” she says, her face falling as her steps slow. “I see.” She hesitates while I mentally drop-kick myself in the face. “Is it going to be one of those ‘for your own good’ situations? I’ve written one of those. I liked it in my book, but…” She breaks off, frowning as her gaze drops to the ground. “I don’t like it so much in real life.”

“It’s not that,” I say, sighing and running my hand through my hair. “I just—there are some things we need to talk about first. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, and her eyes narrow. Then she moves back toward me, slowly, and I swear she’s swinging her hips like that on purpose—or maybe it’s just because her yoga tank and leggings don’t hide as much of her figure. Either way, my mouth has gone completely dry by the time she’s planted herself right in front of me.

And then that same rush of emotions comes flooding back, the same internal battle, the emotional version of fight or flight—pull her close or push her away? Kiss her or run?

It’s a stupid question. I’ve already kissed her. I’ve already told her I plan on doing it again. And I meant it when I said I’m not capable of casual relationships. I’ve tried, and by the time I like a woman enough to consider any kind of relationship—casual or otherwise—I’m already in too deep to keep things light.

It’s just that my first instinct when it comes to this woman is to hide, because there’s so much about her that scares me. She has a mind that I want to unfold, a heart that I want to keep safe, a fiery streak that I want to be burned by. I want to follow her around, just to see what she does and what she says. Icareabout those things. And caring…it’s scary.

“So we aren’t dating,” she says now, tilting her head as she looks up at me. It’s not a question.

“No,” I say, swallowing. “Wouldn’t you agree that we haven’t made things official?”

She hums, stepping closer to me and wrapping her arms around my waist. “Technically I guess you’re right. You don’t want to date me?”

“It’s not—” I break off and try again. “We just need to talk about things first. That’s reasonable.”

She nods solemnly, her arms tightening around me. “Very reasonable. Though it kind of sounds like an excuse.”

“It isn’t. I mean, I don’t think it is. I think I want to date you.” I’m pretty sure I want to, anyway. I definitely have feelings for her, judging by the way my heart is pounding.

“I’m flattered,” she says dryly. “Well, do you want me to go back to how things were before?”

“What?” I say, shocked. “No. Don’t.”

“Mm-hmm. And do you want me to date anyone else?”

“No,” I growl, feeling suddenly irritated. “Don’t do that either.”

“Do you want to kiss me again?”

I sigh. “I can’t stop thinking about it, so yes.”

She nods decisively, and something in her eyes changes. “You definitely want to date me,” she says, her lips tilting into a lopsided smile. “Do I have to wait for whatever you want to talk about, or can I hold your hand now?”

She could do so much more than hold my hand and I wouldn’t stop her. But I just swoop down and kiss her forehead. “Now,” I say. “You can hold my hand now. Now let’s go get your chips and guac.”

“Do you realize,” she says as she lets go of my waist and takes my hand instead, “that we arethis closeto Aidiper territory?”

I just smile.

* * *

When we arrive homethirty minutes later, we’re still holding hands, and I’m collecting valuable information. How well can I put away groceries one-handed? What does it feel like to run my fingers over a nail that’s coated with chipped polish? How much smaller is Juniper’s hand than mine?

These are all questions I’m answering as we swivel around the kitchen like we’re handcuffed, an odd swing dance playing out on our tiny stage.

It’s embarrassing, is what it is.

Probably gonna keep doing it anyway.

---