Page 9 of Falling for the Enemy

“Hold on, did you just cook fish in the microwave?”

“Wow, brownie points on the nose skills, Lo.”

“Everyone knows the unwritten rule that you do not cook fish in the microwave in a shared lunchroom. How am I supposed to enjoy my salad with that stink floating around the room?”

“If it’s an unwritten rule, then it is not a rule at all. It’s just someone’s opinion.” I turned around, pulled a fork from my lunch cooler and plunged it into the breaded fish.

Her chair scraped the floor. She walked over to the paper towel dispenser, pulled a pen out of her pocket and hastily scribbled something on a towel. She walked over and held the piece of paper up right in front of my face. “Heating fish in the staff microwave is against the rules.” She slapped it down on top of the microwave. “There, now it’s a written rule. Not that it does anything to help now. And there are no windows in this closet space they call a lounge.”

“Hmm, maybe you should move to a different university. One where the lunchroom is bigger and where coworkers have the decency not to cook fish in the microwave.” She was tall, but I had a few inches on her. I stared at her. She stared back, unflinching. It was hard to deny the fact that she was incredibly beautiful, but that didn’t make her any less annoying.

I held my ground. It was our usual game of chicken where we stared harshly at each other. “Maybe you’re the one who should find a new school. I’m not the one stomping around like an angry bear all the time.”

I chuckled. “So, I’ve gone from Scrooge to an angry bear. Think I like that better.”

“No, you know what? You’re right. It’s a total insult to bears. It’s back to Scrooge, a despicable, crotchety old man.” After she said it, I noticed the slightest hint of a smile due to the absurdity of the whole conversation. I felt my own mouth tip just slightly but made sure not to show any amusement. “If you can find any way to talk Brimley out of having to include you and your team oflofty scholars,” she said with a posh accent and a haughty lift of her chin that was undeniably cute, “then you’d see me doing an Irish jig all the way to Costa Rica. Otherwise, I need those names by the end of the day or the three of you will have to find your own way to the rainforest.”

With that, she turned and walked back to her salad. She sat down, crinkled her nose, grunted in annoyance and started packing up her lunch.

“I heard that about you.” I regretted it the second it left my mouth, but the fuse had been lit.

Ava looked up with those gemstone-colored eyes. “Heard what?”

“‘I need those names by the end of the day,’” I mimicked with a shake of my hips. I picked up the “no fish” rule she’d written as further evidence. “I’ve heard that you always get your way. You think because you’re smart and ‘easy on the eyes,’” I said with an eye roll to pretend like I wasn’t on board with that assessment, “that you can get what you want.”

“You’re so full of—never mind—you know how to finish that sentence.” She shoved her salad into the lunch bag. “What do you mean you heard it? Who have you been talking to?”

“My friend, Zach Edmonton, he said you take control of a research site, and you don’t like to take orders from anyone.”

A laugh shot from her mouth. “Oh, that’s what your pal Zach told you, is it? I’m sure he wasn’t biased about his opinion. I broke things off with him because he stood over me and criticized everything I did. Somehow, he thought that the two ofus starting a relationship meant that he had complete control over my life. But you know what—it doesn’t matter. You think what you want.” She picked up her lunch. “I need those names by the end of the day, otherwise you and your team can swim to Costa Rica for all I care.” She swept past me, then stopped. “Oh, and if you talk to your good buddy, tell him I stick by my statement. He’s a lousy kisser.”

She left the room. “Well, Jack, that went about as well as a skate across thin ice,” I muttered under my breath. I had no idea why I brought up Zach. Maybe I just liked to see that fire in her eyes when she got angry. I planned to have one more round with Brimley before I gave in and accepted my fate.

Chapter Seven

AVA

The line to get into Isla’s Bakery was down the sidewalk and around the corner. I was determined to wait it out for a box of pastries. I hoped some of Isla’s delicious baked goods would ease or even eliminate the tension I was anticipating in this morning’s meeting about the expedition. Jack had given it another shot, but Brimley held firm to his decision. We both expected it. Brimley was smart and accomplished and well-loved. He was also as stubborn as a mule. Jack chose Pam Boswitch and Milo Jameson for his team. Pam was the woman that Robyn hoped would not join us. I knew her only in passing, but Robyn had been on the mark about her know-it-all style. She even managed to make “Morning, how are you doing?” sound condescending. Milo, I knew only by sight. He was a lean, athletic guy who raced bikes in his spare time.

The line moved forward. Something told me Layla was in panic mode with so many customers coming through the door. It was a big change from standing behind the pharmacy counter. My phone beeped. It was a text from Robyn.

“Should I start the coffee?”

The line in front of me moved and shortened so that I was two people from the door. “Start it in twenty, so it’ll be fresh. Did you print out the itineraries?”

“I’ll do that now.”

“Thanks. See you in a half hour.”

Most people were buying a single pastry or croissant for a quick breakfast, so the line moved quickly. I finally made it inside. Isla was helping Layla behind the counter. She looked harried but incredibly happy. We all knew the bakery would be the new hot spot in town. The sugary, buttery aroma floating around made my stomach growl. I’d been so busy I hadn’t had time to stop in for a treat. Piles of fresh pastries, almond and chocolate croissants, and stacks of thick cookies were piled behind the clear glass on the counter. More elegant desserts, like glazed fruit tarts and chocolate tortes, were displayed on marble pedestals and under glass domes. The inside of the bakery was inviting and quirky in a sort of cozy French style with polka dot upholstered chairs, ornate iron tables and sparkly chandeliers hanging from the white-washed wood ceiling.

I reached the counter. “You should have just texted. I could have saved you the wait time,” Isla said.

“Didn’t want to pull familial rank quite yet. I need two dozen pastries. It’s my peace offering to theopposing team.”

Isla crinkled her nose. “Ella was telling me that you’re stuck going on a research expedition with that grumpy professor. I’ll add in a few chocolate croissants. That’ll do the trick.”

“I wish that was the magical cure for his grumpiness. It’s going to be a long two weeks. I plan to spend a lot of it out in the field with my team and far away from Jack Sinclair.” Isla piled fresh pastries into a box and put some croissants in a separate box. She started to turn down my credit card, but I shook my head. “No, I expect the occasional free cookie but not a wholebox of pastries. Besides, the university gives me a budget for stuff like this.”

---