Chapter 20
Adam
Kiss her. Lean in and do it.
Everything inside me is screaming, but something holds me back.
Stevie’s brown eyes blink up at me. “Adam?”
“Hmm?” Her hair is silky in my hand. I memorize the feeling in case this is the only time I’ll get to touch her.
“Why aren’t you kissing me?” She gets straight to the point. I like that about her.
I know why I’m hesitating. I need her permission to make her lose the bet, but admitting that is tantamount to admitting that I’m a good enough man for her.
The thoughts I’m having might prove otherwise. We’re alone. It’s just me, the evening breeze through the trees, and this woman who is so tempting I can’t see straight. I could kiss her, and no one would ever know.
Nothing good ever started with that reasoning.
But I only want to taste her pink lips one time. Once. It won’t be enough, but I’ll happily accept whatever Stevie is willing to share with me.
There’s a war going on inside my head.
“I want to kiss you,” I murmur, moving closer until we’re only a breath away. “But I don’t want to ruin the, uh, the bet for you.”
There’s conflict in her eyes. “How would I lose the bet? Are you saying you’re my boyfriend?” Her lips curl at the corners, and she moves in.
“The wording I heard was ‘Good Enough man,’” I say with a soft laugh.
Her fingers squeeze my arm, and I close my eyes.
She’s close enough that if I took a deep breath my lips would touch hers.
“I’m nowhere near good enough for you, but I’ve never wanted anything more than this.
” I’ve never wanted anything more than her, I realize. She’s true north.
She sighs, and I feel the warmth of it on my cheek. “I’m not afraid of losing the stupid bet,” she lies. There’s angry, impatient kitten energy in her tone, then her voice softens, “But I’m scared of how perfect you might be.”
My eyes flash open, immediately trained on her lips. I lower my mouth slowly, giving her every opportunity to back away. Instead of changing her mind, she moves in, closing her eyes.
In a fraction of a second I absorb the details of her face—the dark lashes resting on her cheek and the sprinkle of freckles on the bridge of her nose.
Dragging my thumb across her velvet-soft jaw, I memorize Stevie.
Then our lips touch. I want to move slowly and commit every new, delicate detail to memory, but I can’t.
I was wrong about her. Stevie isn’t like carrot cake.
She’s a wildfire.
Her red hair is all around me, and she tastes like wild strawberries.
Her hands weave into my hair, pulling me closer with a moan that changes me.
She’s already realigned my inner compass, but now?
She’s everything. I don’t want anything but the taste of her on my lips and the feel of her under my hands.
I wrap my arms around her petite frame, pulling her close as I explore her.
I want to claim her, but I know I can’t. Good men don’t claim wild things; they observe with respect and appreciation. And sometimes they nip at their lower lips, just a little bit.
Stevie sucks in a breath, pulling away just enough to murmur, “You can’t do that,” against my mouth.
“Maybe we should find something else to do.” I pull back, observing the surprisingly wild woman in front of me through lowered lids.
Her pained expression combined with a pitiful whimper makes me chuckle.
I lean down, pressing one last, quick kiss to her pouting lips. I can’t seem to stop. “What are we going to do about this?”
“About what?” Like the wildfire she is, Stevie moves back in, reclaiming territory and terrorizing me with her heat.
I’m still out of breath from kissing her. “About us, Stevie.”
“There’s an us?” she asks like a minx.
I shake my head, and my mouth quirks into a frustrated half smile. “There’s an us.”
Her cheeks flush, and delicate lines form between her eyebrows while she considers our predicament. Biting her lip, she traces soft circles in my hair distractedly while she thinks.
I close my eyes under her touch. I didn’t know that I like having a woman run her fingers through my hair until this moment. The wildfire is closing in. I’m going to get lost in her again if I don’t stop this.
“You can’t do that to me,” I murmur, pulling my hands away from her waist to wrap them around her wrists. “I’m strong, but I’m not that strong.” I swallow, begging her as gently as I can, given we just kissed like the world was burning. “What are we going to do?”
“Well, the way I see it, we have a few options.” Her hands aren’t in my hair anymore, but she makes up the distance by scooting closer on the step we’re sharing.
I bite back a curse. She’s trying to kill me, I think. She is an inferno that is impossible to contain, but I like the way she feels tucked against my side. I’m playing with fire.
Her gentle smile tells me she doesn’t know what she’s doing to me. “We can come clean. Tell my friends they won, and I lost—”
The despair in her voice when she suggests it is enough for me to shoot down that option quickly. “No.” I chuckle. “Next.”
She grins, relief covering her face. “We could stop seeing each other until I win.”
“And by win, you mean—”
“Find evidence of a sasquatch.” She nods, like it’s only a matter of time. “We can see where things go with us after that.”
A tiny voice in my head urges me to come clean about her first supposed sighting.
I can shut down all of this right now, but that means forcing Stevie to admit she was wrong to everyone—her friends, the town, people online, everyone.
A minute ago she claimed that she doesn’t care if she loses the bet, but that was pre-kiss.
I know the truth: She wants this. She’s happy hunting for Bigfoot.
I can’t stand the thought of snuffing out the light in her eyes.
What’s the harm in letting her have this, just for now?
Since sasquatches don’t exist, it means this little bet of hers could go on until the end of time. I’m picturing an endless train of terrible blind dates—or worse, a few nonterrible blind dates with other men. Out of instinct I cover her hands with mine, fighting to claim the unclaimable.
“You’re frowning.” Stevie sulks along with me. “But you haven’t heard the last option.”
I pull her hands to my mouth, kissing the back of them and whispering against her soft skin, “Please tell me you have a better idea.”
“We keep this between us.” She bites her lip, and now that I know how soft it is I want to beg her to be more gentle. “See where things go without the town watching our every move.”
“Keep us a secret?”
She nods. “Only until the bet is done, or we know where things are going . . . with us.” It’s getting darker now, but not too dark to see the well-deserved blush on her cheeks.
The third option is crazy—the kind of thing someone who also believes in Bigfoot might suggest. Seeing each other secretly?
I like it a lot more than I like the first two options, though, especially now that she’s caught me on fire.
And I would never argue against staying out of the public eye—except for one major detail.
“You’re going to have to go on dates.” I’m filled with a different burning now—hot, frustrated jealousy. “With other men.”
She frowns. “I know.”
There’s so much dread in her admission that I have to laugh.
“I promise you, if the future dates are anything like the ones I’ve already been on, you have nothing to worry about.
” She rolls her eyes. “My friends are the worst matchmakers,” she mutters, somehow moving closer like I can protect her from the mutants her friends keep setting her up with.
She releases a long breath. “So, what do you think? Door number three, see each other privately until the bet is over?”
This might be a terrible mistake, but I don’t like our other options—I refuse to make Stevie lose her bet, but I can’t seem to stay away from her. “I’m in if you’re in, Carrot Cake.”
“Good.” She grins, wider than I’ve ever seen her grin. “That brings me to my next request.”
I trace her fingers with mine. “Yeah?” I ask with some trepidation. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say no to her.
“Will you come to the town meeting? Ike is making us go over the terms of the bet. It’s me against the weirdos of Cape Georgeana. I need someone in my corner.”
I’ve never been to one of the town meetings, but I’ve heard about them. From what I’ve gathered, they’re crowded and basically an opportunity for the locals to air their grievances. Sounds like a good time, right?
“You don’t think it’ll look suspicious if I suddenly show up at one of those things?
” Of course, I want to support Stevie. My official bet is for her to find evidence of Bigfoot.
On paper that’s what I want. And I know for certain that I don’t want her friends to find a boyfriend for her.
But leaving my comfortable cabin to mingle with the townspeople? I’m already squirming with discomfort.
Her big brown eyes blink up at me. “Well . . .”
Shoot.
I’m doing this. For her. Only for her.
“I’ll be there,” I say before she can answer my question. “Of course I will.”
She squeals, grabbing the front of my T-shirt in her fist and dragging me down to her. She plants a much-too-quick kiss on my lips, then seems to realize what she’s doing. With a light laugh and a deep blush, she smooths the fabric of my shirt against my chest. “Thank you, Adam.”
I cover her hand with mine, holding her there. “I can’t say no to you”—I shake my head, peering down at her—“and it might get me in trouble.”
“Get you in trouble?” Her grin is devious and tempting. “You’re already there.”