Page 55 of Enemies in Paradise

Except, the one in front of my door is still there, stoic as a Buckingham Palace guard.

“Get the popcorn.”

I glance over my shoulder at Bear, who nods to the bag of popcorn poking out of my shopping bag. He’s obviouslyverywell acquainted with these squirrels, which isverysuspicious.

I leave the popcorn right where it is.

Unfortunately, the squirrel stays right where he is, too.

“Cassie,” Bear hisses. “Get the popcorn.”

“Bjorn,” I hiss back. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Bear groans. “Fine.Pleaseget out the popcorn and use it to get the squirrel away from your door…ifyou’d like to go inside soon.”

I debate which is worse, taking orders from Bear or being stuck in a squirrel stand-off before reluctantly taking the popcorn from my shopping bag and tearing it open.

The squirrel takes a few tentative steps closer. He has longish fur under his chin reminiscent of a beard, and now that he’s not so close to my door, I have to admit he’s more cute than scary.

“Hold a piece out to him…please.He’ll come right to you. I think his name is Mr. Whiskers.” Bear crouches a few feet from me and makes a soft clicking noise.

My eyes dart to the gang of squirrels feasting on my trail mix like zombies on brains. They seem to be safely occupied, so I turn back to Mr. Whiskers.

And is it weird that he looks like a Mr. Whiskers to me?

I hold out a piece of popcorn and softly call, “Come here, Mr. Whiskers,” and make a similar clicking noise to the one Bear made.

The squirrel darts to me, yanks the popcorn from my fingers, shoves it in his cheeks, then darts away.

“Oh. My. Gosh,” I whisper.

“Cute, right?” Bear duck walks forward and takes popcorn from my bag.

“So cute!” My heart jackhammers in my chest, but not out of fear. “But also a little creepy. Who are these squirrels?”

“Lynette’s friends,” Bear answers softly, but the timbre of his voice echoes around me.

I take a second to figure out what he means, but when I do, a warm sense of belonging travels through me. Bear assumed I’d know what he meant. Like I’m enough a part of Paradise to know who Lynette and her friends are.

The fact he’s right centers the warmth in my chest, where it expands into a pleasant glow.

“I thought they followed her. What are they doing here?” I hold out another piece of popcorn to Mr. Whiskers, who takes it from me without running away this time.

“Lynette goes to wherever they’re nesting, then they come to her. Follow the squirrels to find her, but they don’t follow her all over town.” Bear holds out his own piece of popcorn, and Mr. Whiskers goes to him next.

His gentleness with the squirrel fascinates me. Bear is so big, he could crush Mr. Whiskers with his bare hands, but the squirrel stands even closer to him than he did to me. Mr. Whiskers trusts this giant more than he trusts me. We’re both giants compared to him, but I wonder if a squirrel knows something about Bear that I’ve missed.

I watch my nemesis hold perfectly still—his lips curved in a soft smile—and study the squirrel. Bear is close enough for his crisp scent to fill my nostrils, reminding me of a few days ago when he was even closer. Heat spreads through my veins as the memory of his kisses takes up primary residence in my brain. There’s no room for fear of squirrels or anything but want for Bear.

“I’ve got babies in the shop,” he says quietly. “They’re even cuter.”

My brain has to switch directions from replaying the moment Bear carried me across the shop to his Mustang to making sense of what he’s just said.

“Babysquirrels?” Obviously not human babies, but for a second I wondered.

He nods, then with his eyes still on the squirrel, he leans his head toward me. “I can show them to you later, if you want. I have to feed them.”

His words are slow and careful, laced with a nervousness that threatens to knock down the walls I’ve tried to keep between us.

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