Page 29 of Enemies in Paradise

And the more I consider the idea, the more I think that, maybe, if I explain to Cassie why I need more time, she and I can figure out a way to make things work for both of us. If we agreed to each put off our presentations until the next public city council meeting, we’d both have more time to prepare.

This idea fills me with a rush of heat I feel all the way to my scalp. Every other time she and I have tried to talk about anything, it’s ended badly. The idea of trying again feels ridiculous.

But the way I’ve treated her feels even more ridiculous—especially the mice part.

And if I can talk to Darlene Voglmeyer about my idea, I can talk to Cassie. She’s more reasonable than the mayor—possibly. Cassie didn’t freak out over the mice, and she didn’t hurt them.The exterminator probably has, but Cassie, at least, isn’t a cold-blooded killer.

Darlene, on the other hand, definitely has it in her to be. But I got through that conversation and made progress.

I can point out to Cassie all the benefits for her to wait four more weeks. She’ll have more time to put together the financing she needs for the bookstore and make her renovation plans for it. Plus, unless she’s got more than another week off work, she probably has to go back to LA soon. Who’s protecting the streets if she’s not there?

Meanwhile, I’ll coach the girls to a level of play and love for the game that will help me convince people to fight to keep the pond as their rink.

It’s far from a perfect plan. Cassie doesn’t have any real incentive to go for it, other than out of the kindness of her heart. And I’m not even sure there’s much kindness in her heart, or anywhere else in her body. The only evidence I’ve seen is that Georgia is friends with her, and Georgia doesn’t hang out with mean people.

Usually.

She hasn’t been very nice to me since Cassie showed up.

To be fair, I’ve given Georgia some reasons to be mad at me. I’ll have to fess up to and apologize for the whole mice thing. Cassie’s no dummy. She knew what I’d done. I saw it written on her face when she held up the mouse.

The memory of her green eyes flashing while she held the mouse by the tail makes me smile. And not just because it’s funny how mad she was.

I wouldn’t mind seeing her eyes do that same thing again. It reminded me of a lightning storm over the lake in early summer when the water reflects the color of the pine trees and the leaves of quaking aspens that surround it.

That memory, as much as my hope that Cassie might agree to my idea, propels me to the shop. Georgia said Cassie had moved back to the studio, so it’s the most likely place to find her. She may still be mad. She may tell me no.

But at least I’ll get to see her eyes again.

Chapter 9

Cassie

After a couple daysat Georgia’s, I’m ready to move back into my mostly mice-free apartment. Her exterminator can’t come for at least a week, which gives me the perfect excuse to call in some reinforcements before then. Thursday morning, I put the word out on the local Facebook page that the shop has a mice problem, and I need some mousers.

I thought I’d have to wait at least a day or two to get an answer.

I way underestimated Paradise’s hospitality.

Within the hour, I have two people offering to bring their “extra” barn cats.

I tell them to meet me at the shop tomorrow morning, then delete the post. The last thing I need is the whole town showing up with their extra cats. At most, I only need two, maybe three.

Just enough to annoy Bear. Or, if he is allergic—and Georgia didn’t say he is, only that he doesn’t like cats—enough to leave some dander in the Mustang. Maybe get him sneezing a little and get rid of a few mice before the exterminator shows up.

The first person who answered my post shows up shortly after I get back from Britta’s with coffee. The petite woman climbs out of her car, holding a small black and white cat.

I walk from my car to hers, ready to take the adorable kitten from her—maybe forever, if she’ll let me. “Is this the cat you’re loaning me?”

I reach to pet the cat’s head, but the lady turns her back to me before I can. “No, this one’s an indoor cat.” She opens her back car door and two cats jump from the seat to the ground, one after the other. “These are your mousers. Keep ‘em as long as you need. They’ll make their way home, eventually.”

The cats are already sniffing around the shop door, as the lady climbs back into her front seat, still holding the kitten.

So, apparently she would mind if I kepthim.

I open the shop door to let the cats in, and by the time I come back out, another car is pulling into the alley. This person leaves me with two more cats and a sense of foreboding.

Four cats is mostly manageable. Ishouldbe able to catch and release them into the wild if their owners don’t come back for them. But I pray they do. What if they don’t just disappear after their work here is done? I’m not really sure how barn cats work, and suddenly cat ownership doesn’t sound so appealing.

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