Page 51 of Enemies in Paradise

So, even though I’d planned to tell her about the squirrels today, I’m not sure how I would have explained them, and I’m so glad I don’t have to.

But also disappointed because… well, because I haven’t stopped thinking about her since Monday.

That’s a lie.

I haven’t stopped thinking about her since she came back to Paradise. Every time she’s been here before, I’ve been super attracted and aware of her, but then she leaves and it’s a relief that I don’t have to think about her. Then she shows up again and my obsession starts all over.

This time has been the worst. Maybe because she’s never stayed this long. More likely because we kissed, and it was freaking incredible. I keep replaying it in my mind, trying to figure out where I went wrong and what I should have done differently.

How will I ever stop obsessing over Cassie if she stays for good?

That thought gives me the same feeling I had the first time I saw her. The feeling that’s only intensified since Monday. The Tilt-a-Whirl spinning at the base of my sternum that will either make me laugh or puke.

I walk the perimeter of the shop and surrounding buildings without seeing or hearing any cats. Cassie said she was taking the last one back to Harvey, so I assume that’s where she might be.

Once I confirm the area is cat free, I find Lynette at the town square, coaxing her squirrel friends into metal crates. We load them into my Jeep then unload them a few miles later in the alley outside the shop. As I set them on the ground, the little guys clutch the bars on their cages like prisoners waiting for yard time.

“Are they okay?” I ask Lynette. “They look kind of traumatized.”

“They’ve been forced from their home. Of course they’re traumatized.” She holds up one crate to eye level and looks deeply into the squirrel’s eyes.

“But everything’s all right, isn’t it? This place is even better. No Mayor Voglmeyer here,” Lynette speaks in an octave that people usually reserve for babies and puppies—and squirrels too, I guess—before she points the crate toward her house. “You’ll be safer here than at my house. Harvey’s next door, and I love him, but he’s got too many cats. But I’m not far, so I’ll visit every day.”

Her old clapboard house is painted a bright blue and sits kitty corner to and across the pond and a field. Harvey’s older brick house isn’t right next to hers, but close enough to be dangerous. He’s got enough cats roaming around that the squirrels are safer here.

I don’t know how much the squirrels understand, but when Lynette opens the doors to the crates, the squirrels don’t waste any time dashing to the tree line separating the alley from the pond. She smiles and waves at them before turning to me with one last crate. Inside are two much smaller squirrels.

“We’ll need to leave food out for the adults for a few days, but the babies have to stay in the shop and be hand-fed for a week or two until they’re bigger. Their mama didn’t make it.” She thrusts a plastic bag at me. “The syringes and formula are in here, along with some grapes, peanuts, and kale. But mostly they need the formula. I’ll take the morning shift; you can take the night.”

I smile, too, at the squirrels scampering away, until Lynette’s words register. “Excuse me? Hand feed?”

She walks toward the shop without answering my question. “Let’s move them into the shop. It’s too dangerous for them outside.”

“If they have to be inside, why not keep them at your house?”

Lynette gives me the side-eye. “Harvey comes over every morning,” she says, as if I should already have that information.

Which I do, but I don’t understand what Harvey has to do with her squirrels.

“He always brings a cat or two with him. I enjoy petting them, but they’ll eat the babies.” The finality of her words leaves no room for disagreement.

I sigh and follow behind her, carrying the plastic bag. “Lynette, I have no idea how to feed squirrels. And can’t the big ones find food on their own?”

“Their nuts are all buried back at the town square. They’ll have to build up a fresh supply.” She turns in a slow circle, then inspects the corners of the shop where the tool chest and barrels are and, finally, the Mustang. “This will be okay. It’s pretty clean. I don’t see anything they could get hurt on.”

She sets the baby squirrels’ crate on a rolling cart and coos at them. “The adults prefer nuts, peanut butter, popcorn—especially Mr. Whiskers. Popcorn is his favorite. But they’ll eat regular corn on the cob, too.” Lynette taps the cage door and waves goodbye to her babies. “You can let them out. They won’t go far.”

At that, she heads to the door with me trailing behind, trying to figure out how to get out of squirrel babysitting duty.

“Lynette, I’ve got hockey practice and work and…” I stop before I sayMom to take care of. I’m still not used to not having that responsibility take up most of my time. “I don’t have time to feed squirrels.”

“We don’t have another choice with the babies.” She shrugs, ending the discussion. “The rest only have to be fed for a few days. A week at the most. You just hold out the food and let them come get it. Or you can leave it on the ground, but you have to make sure they eat before you leave.”

Lynette stops by her car, standing there for a few seconds before she looks back at me.

“I just… I don’t know if I can feed the babies, Lynette.”

She blinks a few times, then waves her head toward the car door. I jump to open it for her.

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