Page 34 of Enemies in Paradise

With effort, Bear pushes himself up to his full height and glares down at me. I hold my breath, waiting for him to say something, ready to fire back.

“Why do you have to torture me?”

I open my mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a surprised breath. Wind picks up icy snow and tosses it in my face, along with my ponytail. I toss my hair back and move closer to Bear, jutting my shoulder forward the way I do when I’m face-to-face with hostile suspects.

“Torture you? What are you talking about?”

“You know what I mean.” He leans in, unintimidated, and so close I can smell whatever deodorant or body wash he uses. Pine, leather, and a touch of cinnamon. Like Christmas morning and a ride on the back of a motorcycle holding onto a man wearing a leather jacket—two of my favorite things—all wrapped in one.

“No, I don’t. Enlighten me.” As much as I hate Bear, his smell draws me closer.

“You call me a perv when I try to ask you out. You charge me for a new shirt. You talk to me like I’m a little kid at my brothers’televisedwedding. You try to kill me with cats.” With each accusation, Bear leans further in until our shoulders nearly touch.

When he stops to take a deep breath, our chests are a hair’s breadth apart. My brain tries to work out when Bear tried to ask me out while my skin buzzes with electricity being so near him.

“Worst of all,” he exhales. “You’re stealing my shop.”

“It’s not your shop, Bjorn,” I snap back; a live wire touching water.

“It’s more mine than yours.” His eyes—red and swollen—twitch then deepen into a dark glare.

“Not for long,” I bite back.

I don’t know how long for sure. I’m still waiting to hear from the bank Zach referred me to, but Bear doesn’t need to know this. I’m still closer to owning it than he is. Especially since Zach said he’s expecting at least two offers soon on Lynette’s property—including the pond.

Either way, this is a stupid argument. We’re supposed to be sharing the shop for now, not fighting over it. But I’m not getting pushed out of this space the way I’ve been pushed out of my department, even if I regret that my retaliation went so wrong.

“Just get the cats out.” Bear pulls back his shoulders, broadening his chest even more.

Then he’s overcome with another round of coughing and sags forward. I step closer, but he waves me away before walking around the corner of the shop, breathing heavily the whole time.

I’m tempted to run after him to make sure he’s okay, but I’m afraid what I’d actually do is ask him what he meant. I know when I called him a pervert, but is that when he tried to ask me out? When he spilled coffee all over me?

And I don’t know if I want the answer to that.

So, I wait until I can’t hear him coughing anymore before I get in my car and drive to the local grocery store. Hopefully that’s not where Bear is headed too. His family owns it, so it’s possible, and I’d rather not have another run in with him today.

I load up my cart with cat food. The good stuff that’s wet and smells worse than barf at a bar. Fortunately, Bear’s not there, but I can’t avoid his dad, Pete Thomsen. He’s the owner and the one clerk who seems to be working, so he’s the one who rings me up.

“That’s a lotta cat food,” he says carefully after scanning the third box of canned food. “I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“More of cat problem.” I blow out my breath and look everywhere but in his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll hear about it from Bjorn.”

“Will I now?” Pete presses his lips together, as if he’s trying not to smile, and shifts slightly.

A case of allergy medicine behind him catches my eye. I nod to it. “Add a box of Benadryl to my order, please.”

He scans the bright pink box, but I stop him before he adds it to my bag. “You should probably take that home to Bjorn.”

Pete’s face creases with concern. “How big of a cat problem are we talking about? And how does it involve Bear?”

“Just tell him I’m sorry, will you? I didn’t know how allergic he is.” I swipe my credit card, then grab my cart of cat food and run for the door.

If I don’t leave now, I’ll break down, confess everything to Pete, and beg his forgiveness for trying to kill his son. Which would be a huge mistake. I’ve watched enough criminals get nervous and confess to more than what we had evidence on them for. I know better.

I’m not a criminal, and I’m not serving more time than I should for retaliating against Bear’s prank with one of my own. I didn’t mean for it to go as badly as it did. I didn’t know he was allergic. And I especially didn’t know he was I-could-die allergic.

I’ll do my time by getting rid of the cats and as much of their hair and dander as possible, so Bear can come back to the shop. If the Thomsens decide to hate me for doing what I did, I don’t blame them, even if it is more punishment than I deserve. And I really don’t want to be kicked out of their circle right when Paradise is feeling as if it could become my home.

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