Deliciously Sinful (16 page)

“Admire? That’s a big word coming from Nick Avalon. I thought the only person you admired was yourself.”

“Shut up and listen, you cheeky bitch.”

“Listening.”

“Stop reading so much into it. I fuck her sometimes. She likes it. I like it. That’s it.”

“Right.”

“And besides, even if I did like her, I’m still getting the fuck out of here sometime in the near future.”

“Yeah. About that.”

“What?”

“Have you given Phoebe any indication that you don’t plan on staying here for at least the agreed-upon time?”

He took another drag from his cigarette and finished off what was left of his tequila. “No.”

“I thought not.”

“Are you still planning on leaving?”

“If I get a better offer, hell, yes.”

She shrugged.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Spill it, woman.”

“Fine. It’s just that maybe you should reconsider your big plan to get back to L.A.”

“Why would I do that?”

She pretended to think for a second. “Um. Maybe because you’re happy here?”

“I am not.” But even he had to admit the words sounded hollow and not very convincing. “I hate it here. I never needed to know how to cook ovo-lacto-pesco anything.” He looked into the trees. “The air is so clean it makes me crazy. And furthermore, there’s absolutely no nightlife whatsoever.”

“That’s not true. Have you been to Joe’s?”

“Who’s Joe?”

“It’s not a person. It’s a bar. Everyone goes there.”

“You’ve been here less than a week. How do you know where everyone goes?”

“Because I make an effort to actually get to know the people I’m working with. I’ve been there twice already. It’s fun.”

“Whatever. I don’t really consider some Podunk bar nightlife.”

Sherry put down her glass and stood. “We’re going.”

“What?”

She took the glass of tequila out of his hand and placed it on the table between the chairs. “Come on. We’re going to Joe’s.”

“I’d rather be poked in the eye with a sharp stick.”

She grabbed his hand and tugged. “If you go in with your usual attitude, that might be in your future.”

H
ello, beautiful.”

Phoebe looked up from her pint of beer. “Bear?” She jumped off her barstool and fell into the arms of her childhood friend and former fiancé. His hug was tight, and his flannel shirt was warm against her face.

He smelled like…mud. Not spices or Nick.

Good Lord. She pulled back. “Oh my God!” She scanned his face. His blond hair was shaggy, and he had light stubble on his face just like always. “What are you doing here?”

He ordered a beer and turned back to her. “I just returned from South America. My latest Food for the World stint was in Africa. What an amazing place.”

Staring at him, she shook her head. “Wow. Were you working on local agricultural development again?”

Nodding, he brought the pint to his mouth. “Yup. It was amazing, but I always love coming home.”

She stared at him, and for the first time since she’d known him, she realized she felt no romantic feelings for him whatsoever. He was a friend. Her first love, but now he was just…Bear.

He’d acquired that nickname back in high school when, over one summer, he’d shot up two feet and grown the facial hair he still sported. He’d grown his hair long, and to this day, he wore it in a shaggy cut hanging just under his strong jaw.

But it wasn’t just his looks that had attracted Phoebe to the man. He’d always had an adventurous streak she envied. He was the boy who’d jump off the highest cliffs into the ocean. The first boy who’d jump into the crashing waves with his surfboard. He was the guy who joined Green Peace the minute he turned eighteen and headed for some country none of the rest of their community had ever heard of.

Bear still had a house in Redbolt, though. And every so often, he’d pop back into town between his missions.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Phoebe.”

Smiling, she touched his hand. “You, too. We miss you around here.”

“You know this will always be my home.” He leaned a denim-clad hip against the bar. “So. How’s your life? How’s the café?”

She rolled her eyes. “Hectic as usual. But I hired a chef who is actually turning out great.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “It was a bit touch-and-go at first, but he really seems to be working out.” She felt her face starting to heat. Why was it she couldn’t think about stupid Nick Avalon without blushing?

“I’m glad you found some good help, Phoebe. You always try to do everything on your own. You always have been that way.”

“Are you saying I’m a control freak?” She laughed. Bear had always said that.

“You know it,” he said with a smile. “But an adorable control freak.”

She lightly punched his arm. He was such a flirt. But it was just in good fun, even if they had been engaged.

So why now, when she looked up and saw him staring at her, did it feel different?

“You look good, Pheebs,” he said.

Out of the blue, a flash of nerves settled in her belly. She’d never been nervous around Bear before. Why now?

She was being silly. Bear would never actually be flirting with her. They were done. He’d never be happy here, with her.

Right?

Hoping it would calm her nerves, she took a gulp of her cold beer.

She looked up. “Thanks. You look good, too.”

It was then she realized he was standing close to her. Just a little too close. Just enough to wonder if he was, indeed, actually flirting with her.

“Bear, are you flirting with me?”

He chuckled. “Um, yeah. In case you haven’t noticed, I always flirt with you.”

“Well, that’s just…that’s just messing around.”

His expression became more serious. “Maybe for you it is.”

“Are you high?” she asked.

There was that deep chuckle of his again. “No. Phoebe, I’ve always told you. You’re the perfect woman.”

“As a joke.” Even if it wasn’t a joke, she hadn’t been perfect enough to make him want to stay here. And she respected that about him.

“I was never joking.”

“But we wanted different things.” She shook her head. “Oh my God, what are we talking about?” Her head was spinning. She leaned back on her barstool. “Okay. What is going on here?”

“Hell, Phoebe. For such a smart woman, you can be really obtuse sometimes.”

“Hey! I take offense at that.”

“I just miss you. A lot.”

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” She laughed. “I never hear from you. You just show up and don’t even tell me when you’re coming. I see you about once a year at best, and now you pop up in a bar, and I’m supposed to buy what you’re saying?”

But her pulse was racing at the thought. Deep down, this was what she’d always wanted. She’d wanted Bear to want her. To stay with her. If she thought deeply enough, she would probably even say that, on some subconscious level, the reason she’d been so antirelationship was because she held out a secret hope that Bear would one day settle down and come home to her.

And now he had just appeared and was making strange suggestions, and everything just seemed off.

He tilted his beer mug to his lips, took a slow swallow, and set it back on the bar. Then he casually glanced at her, his green eyes as serious as a heart attack. “No. I don’t expect you to believe me.”

Cue
Twilight Zone
theme song.

She shook her head. “Now I know you’re messing with me. You’re not making any sense.”

“I’m making all kinds of sense. Listen, all I’m asking is if maybe you’ll let me take you out sometime. Maybe we can catch up. Talk about the old days. I’ll admit it, Phoebe. I’ve never stopped thinking about you. And I’ve always wondered if I made the right decision when we broke off our engagement.”

She was speechless. She flapped her mouth a few times, but no words came out.

“And every time I come back to Redbolt I flirt with you. I send you these signals that you never seem to pick up on.”

“You are seriously tripping me out, Bear.” Freezing, she narrowed her gaze at him. “Do you want a mistress or something when you come back to town?” She laughed. Loudly. “’Cause I’m
so
not down with that.”

“No, I don’t want a mistress.”

“Then…then…” She didn’t understand anything that was going on.

He shrugged, and his eyes held a glint of humor. “It’s kinda fun to see you flustered. Adds to your charm.”

“Shut up!”

“Make me.”

“You are such a rascal, Bear. You really are.”

“True. But I really do like you, Pheebs. Always have. In all my travels, I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

“I—I like you, too.” But she wasn’t sure in what capacity. If Bear had been talking to her like this a year or two ago, she’d probably have been throwing a party in her head. But for some reason, she was thinking about Nick.

Thinking about her surly, conceited, talented chef who was the exact opposite of Bear.

There was something seriously wrong with her.

If she was getting this right, Bear—her former fiancé and man of her dreams, a man she admired from the bottom of her core for his moral values, his work ethic, his adventurous personality, his honesty, and, let’s face it, his amazing ass—was once more showing interest in her and all she could think about was Nick?

She needed a hole in the head. Stat.

Bear leaned in close to her ear. That earthy smell of his wafted into her nose. It wasn’t a bad smell. She should have liked it.

But no. It wasn’t Nick’s scent.

Bear’s words were warm and moist on her skin. “So what do you say, Pheebs? You wanna go make out in my truck?”

Luckily, she didn’t have to answer. At that moment, a group of their old friends surrounded them, attacking Bear with questions and hugs.

Still, as he mingled with the group, his gaze kept flicking back to hers.

She ordered another beer.

Monday nights at Joe’s were always busy. Because so many of the businesses were closed that particular day of the week, the locals tended to end up at the bar. The place had been crowded earlier. Now it was obvious word had spread that Bear was back in town. The locals tended to treat him like some sort of celebrity, and soon Joe’s was packed, and Bear had a large group surrounding him, hammering him for more stories of his adventures.

Every time Phoebe looked at him, he met her gaze.

“I always thought you two would get back together.”

Glancing beside her, she saw Steve had arrived. She gave him a startled look. “What are you doing here?”

He tried to look nonchalant. “Oh, I just thought I’d come out for a beer.”

She crinkled her brow. “Really?”

“Why wouldn’t I come out?”

“Um, because I haven’t seen you step foot in this place since—”
Since Judy died.
The words stilled on her tongue. “You just don’t normally come out here at night.”

Shrugging, she watched him try to look casual as he scanned the crowded bar.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said.

“What?”

“By any chance are you looking for a certain blonde wine distributor?”

He jerked back as if she’d slammed him in the face. And he wasn’t a good actor. “What? Me? Of course not!”

“Uh-huh.”

But then his entire expression lit up. She followed his gaze to see Sherry walking in the front door. And trailing behind her was a very disagreeable-looking tall man with spiky black hair.

Great. What was
Nick
doing here?

And yet her body heated, and her heart skipped at the sight of him.

It hadn’t done that when she’d seen Bear. Or even when he’d gotten close to her.

She stamped her foot. Damn, damn,
damn
. She
knew
she never should have started having sex with Nick. That’s all this was. Her body was confused. It thought it should want Nick, when really, it should want the reliable choice. Bear.

Yeah, Bear the reliable one, who’d broken your engagement so he could plant seeds in
Nigeria.
Whatever. Any way you looked at it, it was still illogical. She shouldn’t be excited to see Nick, whom she saw every day, when Bear had popped up and apparently wanted to take her on a date.

So what the fuck? Why did her heartbeat just jack up several notches because Nick had entered the room?

Of course, he immediately nailed her with his annoying blue-eyed stare.

Don’t come over here, don’t come over here, don’t come over here…

But her silent mantra went unheeded. Of course, maneuvering through the crowd, he made a beeline straight for her.

She couldn’t help it. Every step he took, every inch he came closer to her, her pulse went a little more crazy. And when he was there, standing right in front of her, she could barely contain her jittery hands.

Why? Why did he have this effect on her?

“What are you doing here?” she asked him.

He glanced disdainfully around the crowded bar. “Sherry dragged me here.”

“Right. I’m sure you’d rather be at some trendy nightclub, but alas, this little pub is pretty much all we have here in Redbolt.” She lifted her mug and took a deep gulp. “Mmm. Beer. I bet the bartender can make you something fancy if you like, though. Maybe an appletini?”

He gave her one last snarly look before ordering a shot of tequila.

“I see you like variety in what you drink,” she said sarcastically.

His stare was chock-full of sex. “I like variety, baby. But I also like plain ol’ tequila. Sometimes a guy likes something he can rely on.”

“Yeah. So does a woman.” And she gave him a good once-over to let him know he wasn’t the kind of person to be relied upon.

But that wasn’t quite true. In her entire life, she’d never been as able to rely on anyone as she had with Nick when it came to one thing. Sex.

It was good. So damn good just being close to him made her sex tingle. She wanted him. She wanted him like she’d never wanted another man in her entire life. Even with Bear—her dream man—standing a few feet away, her body responded to only Nick.

She hated that about Nick.

Sex. It seemed to pulse between them like an electric current. She wondered if he felt it as strongly as she did. She wondered if she was crazy. She wondered if she was the only one thinking about variety. Because in the short time she’d known Nick, she’d experienced nothing but variety. In the kitchen, in the stockroom, on the beach, in the restaurant, in the forest.

Yeah, he was all about variety. She wondered when he’d be tired of her and move on to the next flavor of the month.

“Pheebs. Your mug is empty. Can I buy you another one?” The offer came from Bear, who had approached them and taken the barstool next to Phoebe.

“I’d like that. Thank you, Bear.”

Of course, Nick hadn’t offered to buy her a drink. That was because he was a selfish, narcissistic, thoughtless prick. She had absolutely no idea why she was attracted to him.

Unlike Bear. Who was nice, handsome, and did his part to make the world a better place. Bear, who thought to buy a girl a drink. Bear, who, apparently, had been trying to hit on her earlier.

“So, Pheebs. Is this your new chef?”

She glanced to Bear and then to Nick. “Oh. I’m so sorry. Yes, Bear, this is Nick Avalon. He’s our new chef. He’s come all the way from L.A. to delight us with his superior knowledge. Nick, this is Bear. I’ve known him for twenty years, and he’s just come back from a stint in South America. He’s part of the Food Core. They help developing countries use their natural resources to end world hunger.”

“I know who they are,” Nick bit out.

Bear held out his hand, but Nick ignored it and took a sip from his glass of tequila. Instead he gave Bear a short nod. “Nice to make your acquaintance.”

“You’re British?” Bear asked.

“Nothing gets past you, mate.”

Phoebe kicked Nick’s knee. “Why are you being such a prick?”

He rubbed the spot on his leg where she’d just kicked him. “What? I’m being myself.”

“Good point.”

“Okay,” Bear said, obviously trying to diffuse the tone of the conversation. “So. What part of England are you from?”

“You probably wouldn’t know it.”

“I might. I lived in the UK for almost five years.”