Mixed Emotions

by MIA HEINTZELMAN

  Who knew if this thing between them would go anywhere this time? There were no guarantees, but it was the not knowing, the what-ifs, that bothered him most.

  What if Zora was the only woman for him? What if she pushed him away again?

  He could still feel the hollowness in his chest. His body had ached over sleepless nights. He didn’t want to lose someone he cared for all over again.

  Rolling to his side, Mike stared at the light beneath his bedroom door. Somehow, letting this chance go by before they really gave it a shot felt like a crossroads in his life. If he didn't try, he would always wonder what would have happened between them.

  Mike was left with four hours to figure out which way to turn.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Zora

  Zora leaned against the closed guest room door and sighed. The silence between her and Mike was brutal. Today was a ruthless reminder of what she already knew. This living arrangement wasn’t a good idea. How were they going to make it through a month, or more, if they could barely stand to be in the same room without giving each other the silent treatment, or resorting to knee-weakening kisses?

  What had that been about?

  All it did was confuse her even more, and now she was supposed to forget it happened then primp and preen for a date with a guy who kissed like a Venus flytrap?

  Now that she knew the feel of Mike’s soft lips, she wanted nothing more than to stalk down the hall to his bedroom and press her lips to his again.

  Zora’s breath hitched in her throat at the memory and the fantasy. She scrubbed her hands over her face.

  “What am I doing?” she groaned.

  On the roof, the sound of rain spattering mixed with the hum of the heater, and the muffled sounds of the city in the distance tore her from her thoughts.

  She drew a deep breath and released it, looking around the room for the first time. It smelled of new paint, old books, and Fabuloso cleaner.

  A giggle escaped her.

  Neat freak Mike had probably been on his hands and knees scrubbing the place clean. It was so him to try and make the room as comfortable and welcoming as possible. Warmth flooded her heart at his thoughtfulness.

  There was a twin bed dressed neatly in varying shades of navy cotton sheets and blankets tucked into the corner with a crocheted afghan draped over the footboard. Beside it was a small wooden nightstand adorned with a tiny succulent, an unlit Freshwater candle, a box of tissue, and a snow globe from Disneyland.

  “So sweet.” She smiled.

  Zora walked over, swiped a tissue for her nose, picked up the snow globe, and shook it. A flurry of glitter and smiling Mickey Mouse-shaped snowflakes twirled in the watery storm. It was such a sweet little thing to put on the nightstand. She noticed this room appeared to be designated for keepsakes.

  Time ticked by as she stood near the closet and stared at a large bookcase filled with old books and more snow globes from different locations and attractions. She dragged her fingers over the spines and lightly onto the globes, reading titles and seeing the world from Mike’s souvenirs. Overwhelmingly, they all pulled at her heartstrings.

  How could she know Mike and not really care to learn more about what made him tick?

  Zora wanted to know the history behind every book and every globe. She wanted to know why all of it was packed away in this room and not on display in the living room, or on his nightstand.

  Knowing felt urgent all of a sudden. She was inclined to ask him, when she heard a creaking door, followed by footsteps and jingling keys in the hallway. There was a knock on her door.

  “You about ready?” Mike asked. His voice was gentle but stilted.

  She sneezed again, this time louder and more forcefully.

  Please, let this be just allergies.

  “Bless you,” he said through the door.

  Zora’s gaze darted about the room as she replaced the snow globe on the nightstand and picked up her tote with her change of clothes. She needed to get him talking.

  “Yep. I’m coming.”

  Later on, when they were up to their waists in inventory, about the only icebreaker Zora could come up with to get Mike talking was the subject of food. It was the only topic where both of them were on common ground, given her love of making it and his of consuming it

  “I can’t believe lasagna is the only thing you know how to make.” Zora propped herself up on her tiptoes on the top rung of the ladder.

  She heard a muffled snicker at this. “It’s lasagna. What else would I need?” Mike was still in the kitchen freezer, reviewing the inventory log against the meat supply.

  “It’s good in here,“ he called out. “Fully stocked…but for the sake of cutting out an extra trip, I’ll prep an extra order. More chicken and beef. Anyway, back to your assault on my signature dish, now you can educate me about other cuisines, oh master Creole-Mexican chef.”

  Zora giggled at this. The clock was officially ticking on her cookbook. She’d come up with that fusion based on her family roots and the food she most often consumed. She needed no particular day of the week to prompt her to eat tacos.

  “What about Mexicole or Crexican? Well not that, but something along those lines for the title?” She tossed the ideas over her shoulder at Mike who laughed robustly.

  “What’s wrong with Creole and Mexican Food Fusion? It’s a title on a cover. Give it a fancy font and a flashy photo of something delicious, and it’s fine.”

  “Ugh, no. I want it to be catchy so people can hashtag it and start a foodie movement.” Zora bit her lip and squinted. ”Creo-Mex?”

  “Hard no on that one.”

  “It’s kind of cute.”

  Mike grimaced. “So, I take it you’ve decided against the haggis then?”

  “You already knew that was the lie, so stop teasing me.”

  From the ladder, Zora could see his head bowed over a clipboard poring over the numbers the same way she’d done the paper goods and boxes. Mike sat back on his knees and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth for a few seconds. “Why would she ask us to do the inventory if she stocked the entire kitchen before the trip? This place is overstocked.”

  “Did you really expect anything less? Bite-Sized is Sophia’s baby.”

  Sophia had created everything from the savory and sweet tapas to the kitschy pastel decor. In only two years, word of mouth had helped her place become a go-to spot for a quick, healthy lunch or a night on the town.

  Mike shrugged, got to his feet, and walked out of the freezer to wait while Zora took account of the supplies on the shelves.

  “Um, let’s add…one more bulk box of napkins just to be safe,” Zora said lowering herself one rung at a time as she double-checked each shelf. “We have enough of everything else for at least two or three months. This is overkill, even for Soph.”

  “I know. It seems off.”

  “Oh my God. I’ve got it. CreOlé. As in olé.” She snapped her middle fingers and thumbs like a flamenco dancer, beaming with excitement. It was all more Spain Spanish than Mexican Spanish but the “olé” worked. “I love it!”

  She was just about to step down when she noticed an opened box of Styrofoam take-out containers. It was still pretty full, but to be sure she leaned over, stretching her arm to reach and then sneezed—a chest-heaving, full body sneeze, which caused her body to jerk back, tipping the ladder and her along with it.

  One second she was free falling and the next, she collided with a solid wall of muscle for the second time that day.

  Mike had caught the ladder with his right hand and Zora with his left. His body trembled and his hands were gripped tightly around her. His eyes widened with terror, and his breath came fast and hot like he was hyperventilating.

  Her heart was beating a mile a minute, too. Her breathing came faster and harder as she clutched onto him.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” The bass in his voice thundered against Zora’s chest. “You don’t sound so good. Are you feeling all right?�
��

  Are you?

  “Allergies are evil.” Not that she could think about her nose at a time like this.

  Every tingling nerve ending in Zora’s body danced beneath the pads of his fingers. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out how she was going to let go. He smelled so good.

  She breathed him in on a slow tantalizing inhale. She didn’t mean to sniff him, but at the moment, her body wasn’t exactly listening to her.

  “Did you just…smell me?” he asked, giggling.

  She had no idea how tight she was holding onto him until she felt the rhythm of their hearts matched beat for beat.

  Her voice dragged out dreamily. “What cologne are you wearing? You smell really good.” Zora pressed her nose to his neck and took a long whiff. His skin was smooth and warm to the touch.

  “Think you can stand on your own two feet?” He was still holding her, and it felt really good to be in his arms again. He was rough and gentle at the same time, like at any minute he might throw her up against the wall and kiss her until her lips were good and swollen.

  She pressed her fingers to her lips and smiled at him. “No, seriously.” Sniff. “What is that?” Sniff. “Soap? Cologne?” Sniff. Sniff.

  Mike leaned back and looked at her with his arresting green eyes. Suddenly, she could not breathe properly. They were both staring at each other with wide-eyes and parted lips as if they were caught somehow.

  Please don’t put me down.

  “I’m going to put you down now, okay?”

  “No.” As far as Zora knew, her obsession with Mike was always a teenage crush that had gone on too long. It never wavered, but she assumed it was normal not to forget your first. He was her first crush, first kiss, first…lover. Back then, every girl in school who wasn’t after Everett was trying to get with Mike. He had always been gorgeous.

  How did I miss this?

  Whatever it was happening between them, it was way beyond rules.

  How on earth was it possible that she could be around him almost daily from the time she was a scrawny knock-kneed kid and not see all this happening before her eyes?

  Who was this magnetic man with his heart and his keepsakes tucked away?

  Zora cocked her head slightly, scrutinizing every line of his warm honey skin. She inhaled and couldn’t seem to let him go. Her right arm was perched on the cliff of his broad shoulders, and with her hand she pressed into the curve of his neck. The man was lean and firm.

  “Zo?” Her name came out on a whisper. Mike blinked almost in slow motion. His eyes were twinkling.

  See! Right there.

  Where did those adorably sexy sweeping eyelashes come from?

  Have they always been there?

  Now she blinked hard, but, he was still there, and a slow and cocky, beautifully boyish grin began tugging at the corner of his mouth that was lined with the scruff of a trim goatee.

  Good lord, his mouth.

  He also happened to have delectable, pouty pink lips. They were basically daring her not to kiss them again.

  Her sweet spot twitched.

  When had he turned into this man?

  “Zo?”

  He was still watching Zora’s every move as he lowered her to the ground.

  She was on her feet, but it still wasn’t clear whether or not her legs were working. The way they sort of wobbled, she felt unsteady and bendy like a flower in the wind. If she broke contact and stopped clinging to him she might somehow wilt away.

  Then, he went and did it.

  He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down. Not hard, but enough for his gloriously white teeth to scathe the delicate skin. Zora almost fainted right then. Her insides clenched ,and finally she exhaled.

  Holy shit! This man is on another level.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Zora finally looked away, and the gravity of what she’d just done sunk in. As whatever spell he put her under wore off, she was now mortified for the third or fourth time that day.

  Before she couldn’t stop looking at him, but now, the thought of meeting his twinkly eyes felt forbidden. If she dared, there would be wicked consequences.

  Thankfully, the date she was dreading would take her away.

  Rules. Rules are good, she reminded herself.

  “Um…I’ll go check with Ceci to see if there’s anything else she can think to add to the order, then I’m going to go get ready. Just let me…” She trailed off because her voice sounded shaky and guilty as all hell.

  Zora did a stuttered run-walk over to the kitchen doors leading to the front of the house. In her haste to actually watch where she was going—because she was physically incapable at the moment of lifting her chin up off her chest—she missed the swinging door flying toward her. George, who was carrying a tray of about a dozen tables worth of bussed dishes and silverware, crashed into her.

  For a whimsical split second, cups and plates and sparkling forks flew into the air. It was a silent symphony of blurred shapes. Zora was almost mesmerized.

  Then, the ear-piercing crash as they hit the floor brought the entire restaurant to a standstill.

  Several startled eyes, most notably, Mike’s, looked on as she turned.

  Rather than buckle under the weight of his spring-green eyes, she fell to her knees and rushed to gather up the shards of glass, throwing scattered knives and spoons into the dish tub with a loud clank.

  “I guess I’ll add dishes to the order,” Mike said. The sight of his retreating form jarred something irrevocably loose insider her.

  I want Mike.

  When he was out of sight, almost immediately Zora’s lungs started working again. The scent of buttery, sweet pastries and teriyaki chicken bites filtered through her nose. She inhaled and got back to her feet as the world started turning again.

  Everyone seemed to just go back to what they were doing before she’d utterly embarrassed herself.

  Zora had no clue what had just happened between her and Mike, but the spark was explosive. The way he looked at her didn’t just nudge something inside of her. It felt more like a sucker punch.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mike

  Zora felt it too.

  There wasn’t a doubt in Mike’s mind. It wasn’t just the way she looked at him. It was in the way she’d held him tight—like she didn’t want to let go—the tiny, shallow breaths, and the slight pink flush of her cheeks.

  Mike noticed, and he felt the tidal wave rushing back.

  “What do you think?” Zora asked as she came out of the restroom twirling.

  Her short, black, flowy dress billowed from the hem and settled at her toned thigh. She paired it with strappy black heels, light makeup, and gold jewelry. She was stunning, and Mike was jealous.

  This wasn’t just physical.

  Look at me, Zo.

  Every inch of him needed to see her eyes and feel the same connection he’d felt with her in his arms.

  She craned her neck toward the front window. “I think that SUV that just pulled up is him. He said he’d call when he was out front.” She checked her phone, letting loose a sneeze before she pressed it to her ear. “I thought it was you. Give me a sec, I’m going to grab my umbrella, then I’ll be right there.”

  Mike didn’t realize he was holding his breath. He sighed and deflated just a little. The idea of her walking out to another man felt final somehow, and he was desperate.

  Say something.

  “Uh…”

  When she finally looked at him, he knew she was holding back. Did she want him to try harder?

  “Okay, well, he’s here, so…I’m going to go. You’ve got everything here under control?”

  She teetered on her heel, rubbing her arms.

  You’re stalling.

  He nodded, feeling hopeful and antsy and wired as he watched her sling her purse over her arm. Unconsciously he stepped closer. “What if it’s not allergies? You’ve been sneezing and coughing…might be a cold,” he b
lurted out, desperate to say anything that might keep her from leaving even for a second longer.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Okay, well, uh. Where’s he taking you?” He stuttered trying not to sound desperate, but he was at the end of his rapidly fraying rope. Nothing he could do or say would convey the toxic emotions stewing inside him. Stopping her took away her right to choose the right man for herself. Letting her go said Mike was indifferent, which was basically the complete opposite of what he was feeling.

  At her raised brow, he explained. “Just…in case you need me. Can’t be too safe.” He was grasping at straws.

  Come on. Don’t go.

  The soft sigh she released appeared to be frustration. “Portland City Grill.” She started toward the door, but then she hesitated for the slightest moment.

  “Yeah?” he asked.

  He was holding his breath again, silently bargaining with her all the things he would do if she just stayed. He would try this thing between them again, even if his heart flashed its scars at him—a blinking beacon of the last time she ripped it open. If she stayed, he’d prove to her he was worth the risk of putting all her chips in.

  Over her shoulder, she smiled at him and shrugged with a better luck next time pitied expression—his consolation for the whirlwind he’d put himself through today. Damned if he wasn’t going do something about it.

  Mike watched Zora shuffle over to the shiny gunmetal gray SUV, her umbrella shielding her from the downpour. Instead of this guy getting out and coming around to open the door for her, he made her wait while he unlocked it from his seat.

  “Asshole.”

  He didn’t deserve her.

  He didn’t deserve that dress.

  The headlights blinded him as they pulled away from the curb, and Mike was left stewing in frustration until the name Portland City Grill hit him like a sledgehammer.

  This guy, Mr. Unoriginal, probably Googled five-star romantic restaurants in Portland. The place would be at the top of the list with its skyline views and upscale white tablecloth fine dining. It was thirty floors up, required reservations, and easily garnered three- or four-dollar-sign pricelists. It was a favorite for the moneyed elite, including trust-fund lawyers who refused to cook. Jason. Mike pulled out his phone.