Page 50 of Enemies in Paradise

Zach gives a begrudging nod to his wife. “You’re probably right. He even went through the entire process of getting the building designated as a historic site by the state committee, then changed his mind before getting the final approval from the city council after Bear told him what he wanted to do with it and the pond.”

“Why would historic status make a difference?” I ask.

“If the city and Grandpa both sign the approval for the building to be historic, the outside can’t change and it can’t be torn down.” Zach wipes his mouth and takes a long sip of his Coke.

“So we’re back to no park, no pond?” I already know the answer, but I’m still putting in place all the pieces of the story I’ve learned today.

Zach nods and sets down his drink. “Bear knows Grandpa did him a favor, letting him submit his proposal instead of Grandpa turning in the historic status paperwork. As hard as he thinks the old man is being on him, Grandpa’s risking letting the shop be torn down in order for Bear to get what he wants. But he’s going to make Bear work for it.”

I’m about to ask Zach to elaborate when Britta comes back to refill our drinks. As she’s filling my water, her eyes dart to the kitchen and mine follow. Bear is looking intently at both of us in a way that makes my skin buzz and my eyes drop to his lips.

Britta cups her hands around her mouth. “Don’t worry! I told her I’m on your side in this fight.”

“It’s not a fight!” Bear and I say at the same time.

Our eyes meet, and he smiles. Before I can stop myself, I smile back, then quickly look away, remembering that I can’t trust him.

“Uh huh,” Britta says before calling back to Bear. “Then why don’t you put down the spatula and come say hello? There’s no one else here.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have work for him to do,” Adam calls back before giving Bear one reluctant nod of permission before mumbling what sounds like, “I’m on your side, too. Paradise doesn’t need any more change.”

Bear slips off his apron and comes out of the kitchen into the dining room.

When he reaches our table, I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes. “Hello.” He swivels his head, so the greeting isn’t just for me, but then he turns his attention to me. “Any cats left?”

I hesitate, sizing up him and his intentions. Is he pretending he wasn’t at the shop long enough last night to know there’re no cats left? Has he really not said anything to Britta or Zach?

“They’re definitely out of the shop,” I say.

Which is the truth—mostly. Willy Wonkat is in the studio. I won’t let him in

the shop.

“I’m cleaning out some more stuff tomorrow before practice on Thursday,” Bear says, matter-of-fact, looking past me rather than at me.

“Thank you for letting me know and… I’m sorry about the cats. I didn’t mean for things to get that out of hand.” I keep my voice measured, playing along with his game, wondering if he’s telling me he’ll be there so I won’t be.

Or…is he saying it because he wants me to be there? Because he wants to pick up where we left off. On top of the Mustang, kissing my neck and —

—I put a stop to that train of thought and send Bear a silent warning that we will not be traveling that path again.

He gives me a curt nod, then walks back to the kitchen.

Fine with me. My food goes down easier now that I’ve made it clear—I think—that we are not friends—or enemies, even—with benefits.

Especially because I’ve got an idea that involves using Zach’s info that the shop is historic. And, if my idea works, it will ruin any chance Bear has of getting the city to tear down the shop.

Along with any chance of us ever being more than enemies.

Chapter 16

Bear

The next morning, Ileave Molly at home while I check out the area around the shop to make sure there are no cats around. I take her with me most days, so she’s not happy to be left behind, but today is squirrel moving day. She’d create an even bigger disaster than Cassie did by filling the shop with cats.

Cassie’s car is gone when I get there, and I’m equal parts relieved and disappointed.

Relieved because she made it clear at the Garden that she wants nothing to do with me. Not with words, but definitely with body language. She wouldn’t look at me. When she did, it was with a glare. When she talked to me, she might as well have been talking to a stranger for all the warmth in her voice.

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