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Changing course, I shift my gaze to his.
Wrong move.
The flutters come in a rush, bouncing into each other, and not sure whereto go.
Our eyes make contact and hold, clustered together like a pair of neutrons and protons. It’s a strong force. One that cannot be broken by ordinary means. No, it’s more like the only thing that could break us apart is a miracle of fission.
Why am I so bad at this all of a sudden?
I used to be the queen of sassy, bratty, and mean. I could combat Ryan McGregor like nobody’s business, but I feel like a time bomb with the red wire cut. The countdown still runs, but then what?
His fingers graze my skin. I want to lean into his touch, but the stinging of my arm seizes my better sensibilities and I swat his hand away.
“What happened? Looks like a bite of some kind.”
“You.”
“Me? I didn’t bite you.” He stops short of laughing.
Seconds away from stomping my foot, I say, “I’m here on a silent retreat.”
“But you’re talking.”
“I was just trying to lie low and then there was a bee in my car and?—”
“Why didn’t you get out?”
“Because you were out there.”
His lips quirk. “Ah, and you didn’t want to talk to me.”
“Yes.” I probably shouldn’t have offered up that information because it’ll only lead to more questions.
“So, you were avoiding me at the wedding.”
“No.” I press my palms over my face. This man muddles me up. I am not usually like this. Must be the bee venom.
“Come on. You need ice.”
Ryan’s strong, calloused hand wraps around my un-stung arm, and he practically frog-marches me across the street.
It’s bad enough that I have to deal with the saunter and the swagger. Now he’s touching me too.
Would I rather run into anyone other than the guy I love to hate?
Yes, actually. I’d rather be, well, I’m not sure where.
Instead, I blurt, “I’m dead. This is my ghost talking and I’m fine. My arm is fine.”
“Nugget, it’s swollen to the size of a baseball.”
I glance down and frown—at it and my inside-out shirt. “Half a baseball, like if you cut one in half.”
“You knew what I meant.”
We enter a new establishment here on Main Street. It’s called Beans & Books and must’ve opened sometime between now and when I was last in town. A cat suns itself on the windowsill.
A tall woman with dark hair stands behind the counter. “Hi, Ryan. What did you do?”
