Page 98 of Juniper Bean Resorts to Murder

I want to shake her for coming here so recklessly.

But I want to kiss her for being safe.

I pull in a deep breath, turning away from her as I begin to pace. I need to get my head on straight. “I don’t care what Gus or anyone else tells you,” I say finally, spinning on my heel to glare at her. “I don’t care if he delivers you the killer’s name and address and social security number all wrapped in a pretty bow. You don’t just rush over recklessly, without a plan, withouttellingsomeone first—me!” I throw my hands in the air. “Without telling me! Where’s your sense of fear? Where’s your sense of safety?”

“It’s here!” she says, surprising me as she shoots to her feet. She returns my fire with her own, her fists clenched at her side. “Why do you think I’m hiding in the back of the library like a coward? Because I was scared, Aiden. Because I saw him and I realized and I didn’t know what to do, so I—I—I hid.” A muscle jumps in her jaw, her blue eyes glossy. “I wasn’t stupid.” She steps closer and lifts one hand, jabbing me painfully in the chest with her pointer finger. “I wasn’t reckless.” Another jab, even harder this time. “So don’tyellat me when it’s already been a crappy week—”

And I can’t. I can’t do this anymore, I can’t stop this, and I don’t want to.

My hand lifts of its own accord to grab the finger that’s jabbing me, a move so sudden she stops speaking. I close the distance between us in one step.

And then I crash my lips down on hers, swallowing the rest of her words.

She gasps into my mouth, but there’s no hesitation in her response. She’s kissing me back in point-two seconds, her hands fisting in my shirt and yanking me closer, a storm of lightning in my veins at her eagerness, because goodgrief—she kisses me like she’s been waiting forever to do it. I let go of her finger and grasp her face in desperate hands, tilting her head left, right, up, searching for the perfect angle—

There.There it is. She’s managed to step back onto the bottom step of the stool, bringing her to just the right height for me to explore her mouth. She tastes absurdly like strawberries—of course she does—and her lips are impossibly soft, impossibly perfect, chasing mine as we tangle and tussle. There’s a bite of frustration in the way she wraps her arms around my neck, her fingers digging into my skin a touch too hard—she’s still annoyed that I was chewing her out.

Which is fine. I’m still annoyed she came here by herself.

“Trying to leave a mark?” I breathe against her mouth before ducking my head, letting my lips skim her jaw. I move up to the perfect patch of skin at her temple, pressing hard kisses along her cheekbone.

“Maybe,” she mutters, turning her head. I grin when I feel her nip at my ear, a sharp sting of pain. “But you’re being a jerk.”

I roll my eyes even as I swerve my head away from her bite. “Jerkis a strong word.”

“It feels accurate to me,” she says breathlessly, and a bark of laughter escapes me when she pinches the back of my neck, bringing me back to her.

“I don’t think so,” I say, grinning as I reach up and unwrap her arms from around my neck. “We’re playing nice right now.” Then I tangle my hands in her hair and begin kissing her once more, swallowing the laugh that she puffs against my lips.

I want to do crazy things with her, the kind of crazy that would only come from Juniper and I. I want to whisper poetry with my kisses, passing sonnets and verses back and forth between us. I want to consume the words on her tongue. I want to lick her stories from her lips.

They don’t make sense, these half-formed desires, but I want those things anyway. I want everything she has, greedy in a way I’ve never felt before.

She can direct all of her anger at me, and I’ll take it gladly. She can give me all ofeverything, all the bad and the good and the dark and the light, and I’ll take them all and keep them all andcherishthem all—all the parts of this woman whose life has been entwined with mine since we were children.

I know that soon we’re going to have to talk about what she’s discovered. And soon I’m going to have to tell her what I’ve been keeping from her.

But for now—just for this little pocket of time, hidden in the back of the library—I give myself and my attention to her and her alone.

Our kisses slowly fade from passionate and full of fire to something slower, deeper, more languid and exploratory. Lazy and lingering instead of hurried and desperate, although I can’t quite bring myself to loosen my grip. There’s a corner of my heart that’s still racing not because I’m kissing her but because itscaredme, receiving that call from Gus and then not being able to find her.

I give her waist a little tug, and she stumbles down from the step stool. Then I settle my hands on her shoulders, pressing one last kiss to her lips, forcing myself to breathe deeply and trying to get that last little corner of my heart to process the feel of her—trying to get my remaining fight-or-flight instincts to calm down. I let my eyes devour every part of her I see, just to make sure she’s okay.

She’s a bit sweaty, and she’s been thoroughly kissed, but she’s whole. When I’vearrived at this conclusion, I let my head fall onto her shoulder—falteringly at first and then with abandon. My forehead drops to that intimate junction where her neck meets her shoulder, cradled in the space that seems perfectly designed for me, and for a second I just rest there.

Just to listen to her breathe.

Just to feel her warmth and the soft give of her skin, the tickle of her hair and the gentle rise and fall of her chest—all those things that tell me howaliveshe is.

How surreal is this? How strange has my life become that one month ago I was griping about teaching literature to my seniors, and now I’m merely feeling grateful that this hurricane of a woman is alive?

Autumn Grove should not be a town where I worry about people dying.

She clears her throat, a nervous sound that’s amplified by the press of my ear against her neck. “Hey,” she says.

“Mmm,” I hum, my hands sliding from her shoulders to her upper arms.

She clears her throat again. “What—what are you doing?”

---