Page 25 of Enemies in Paradise

I don’t see any, and Georgia’s right about this place. Even as I fight a sense of claustrophobia, the idea of the studio being mine is comforting. If for no other reason than I can’t spend the next thirty days living in Georgia’s guest room. Not when she and Zach are still newlyweds. That’s getting uncomfortable for all of us.

Of course, if everything works out, I’m here for a lot longer than thirty days. Who knows how long it will take to earn enough to get a bigger place? But Grandpa Sparks isn’t charging me much rent, and what I do pay will be rolled into the purchase price. It’s not a lot of money, but since I’m still paying three times that amount for my apartment in LA barely bigger than this, I’ll take whatever break I can get.

And it will be nice to be onsite when all the construction is going on for the bookstore. With that perspective, I shoot Georgia a smile. “It’s perfect.”

“I know!” Georgia says over her shoulder before sliding open the curtain under the kitchen sink.

Something darts out centimeters away from her toes, and she lets out a loud yelp.

“What!” I yell over her screeches.

“Mouse!” She points to two mice scurrying out from under the sink toward the bed and screams louder before jumping on top of the kitchen chair.

Her loud “ew, ew, ew” brings Adam, Bear, and Evie running into the room while I search for a broom or something to sweep the mice from under the bed.

“What are you screaming about?” Adam growls while holding out a protective arm to keep Evie from running in.

“Mouse!” Georgia cries. “Mice! ”

“Where?” Adam immediately goes into action, searching the room.

“Under the bed.” I point to the other side of the room. “There are only a couple of them. Three at the most.”

“If there’re three, there’re more.” He walks softly to the bed.

I rush to the one tall cabinet, hoping to find a broom there. Bear is leaning against it, and a part of my brain registers that he’s the only one not panicking. He might even be smiling.

I elbow him out of the way, then fling open the cabinet. There’s no broom. Only empty shelves, except for a handful of Cheez-its and the mice nibbling on them. I gasp and slam the door shut.

“There’re more in here!” I call to Adam.

Evie squeaks and jumps outside the open door while Georgia continues to squeal and dance on the chair, and I have to wonder how these two haven’t ever encountered mice while demoing and renovating houses.

Adam lets out a frustrated grunt and crosses the room to check the cabinet himself. The mice scatter when he opens the door, bumping into each other as they try to escape.

“Georgia, stop screaming!” he yells, then turns to his brother. “And what are you laughing at?”

I whip my head in Bear’s direction and see him pressing his fist to his mouth, his cheeks red with the effort not to burst into laughter.

“I’m curious to hear that answer, too. What’s funny?” I narrow my eyes, ready for him to defend himself, but the only thing he’s willing to fight is his grin.

He shakes his head and mutters. “Nothing.”

I sharpen my glare on him but send an order to Evie. “See if there’s a broom in the shop.”

I don’t have a plan, but a broom seems like the best weapon against mice, even if I don’t know what I’ll do with it. Sweepup the mice? Scare them to another part of the studio? Smash them?

All I know is I want them gone before I scream like Georgia. My police training is keeping me from freaking out, but I’m not even a fan of animated mice. Disneyland can keep Mickey and Minnie. Blech.

“There’s a whole nest of them in here,” Adam says, looking under the sink. “Who left all this food around?” He shuts the curtain and stands to face Bear. “I thought you said the team didn’t eat in here.”

That’s when Georgia stops dancing and screaming. She stays on the chair but her eyes laser in on Bear. “I thought you were calling an exterminator.”

The smile on Bear’s face disappears at the same time his ears go pink. “He was busy.”

Georgia’s eyes narrow. She climbs off the chair and darts to the door, looking around for any mice that may attack. But when she reaches Bear, she stops and glares up at him. I’m struck again that despite the size difference between them, Bear’s the one who’s shifting nervously back and forth.

“Go. Get. Traps,” Georgia says slowly, emphasizing each word.

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