Page 27 of Bear In A Bookstore
Chapter Ten
Whoeverhadaccessedthetunnel inside the bakery had likely dropped the paper clipping with Kora’s name on it. They’d made it to the bookstore and planted bats inside the secret room.
For what reason?
Working his jaw to the side, Desi had pondered how to tell her that he’d found her name on the paper. She’d diligently scrubbed the floor with a mop of bleach water, convinced the bats had shit everywhere. He’d helped her clean up, then went to his storage unit and returned with security sensors to place around the bookstore. He’d secured the trap door, and after she’d left, gone to the bakery to do the same.
Inconspicuous cameras now pointed at both trap doors, which he’d secured enough to keep most people out, but perhaps not enough for someone desperate enough to attempt a second break-in. He wanted to know who was doing this. Someone appeared to have it out for Kora, and he wasn’t going to stand for it.
He’d finished at the bakery and drove to Kora’s house, parked so he had a view of the property, and tucked in for the night. Luckily, he could go days without sleep. Partly due to his bear biology, but also military training that taught him how to stay awake in times of crisis. He considered Kora’s safety of utmost importance, so watching over her home until the crack of dawn had been easy.
Rubbing his hands over his face, he popped a few breath mints and got out of the truck. He stretched. He slipped a ball cap over his head and shrugged into an old denim jacket, grabbed his supplies, and went up the porch.
The curtain on the side window moved, her face peeking out before he knocked. She yawned as she opened the door wearing a tee shirt and yoga pants, with her hair in a loose braid and fluffy white socks on her feet. His heart gave a little flip. She was sexy as hell.
“You’re super early.” She yawned again.
Was he? Desi checked his cell. Sure enough, it was only six-thirty in the morning. Oops.
“And you’re up super early.”
She waved him in. The scent of fresh coffee hung in the air. Glancing to her desk, he noticed the messiness had increased and three coffee mugs sat on the edge, plus a box of cheese crisps and a bag of chocolate chips.
“I got up early to work. Coffee?”
“Sure. Thank you.”
He followed her into the small kitchen, accepting the hot mug of coffee with both hands. Fatigue crept into his muscles. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t really slept in almost a week.
She offered him sugar and milk. He put both in his coffee, realizing she was watching with amusement as he dumped three large scoops of sugar into the brew. He sipped, and then added another small scoop. Kora folded her hands on the breakfast bar, her expression serious but edged with a little excitement. It felt like he was sitting with his best friend. The atmosphere around them was comfortable, the way they interacted with each other, easy. It felt like they’d known each other a long time.
He arched a brow. “What?”
Kora tapped a finger on the counter, contemplating, then went to her desk and returned, flopping a hardcover book before him.
“I had it overnighted from Denver.”
“What is it . . . oh, Kora, come on.”
Was she serious? It was a copy of Dirty Riches, the treasure hunting book that had everyone going nuts around town.
Her smile grew excitedly. “I’m going to look for the treasure.”
“Why?”
“I’m trying to keep my mind off the possibility that someone planted bats inside my bookstore, that’s why.”
He sighed, not having it.
She threw up her hands. “Whynot?”
He cocked his head like she was nuts. She spread her hands in defense of her decision, then poured milk into her coffee.
“I ordered the book because I was curious after that guy Angelo said he thought clues led to my bookstore. Also, I thought it would be good research for the project I’m working on. So, I read some of the clues in the book, and it was kind of fun to unravel them. I hadn’t really decided to participate until yesterday when I singlehandedly faced murder bats and rescued you from the pits of hell.”
Desi set his mug down and ran a hand over his mouth. “Murder bats? Pits of hell?”
She shrugged one shoulder and looked at him over the rim of her mug. “I may have neglected to mention that I’m an author. My mind naturally exaggerates sometimes. I also suffer from an annoying anxiety disorder that literally magnifies everything remotely uncomfortable into a catastrophic, life-altering event.”
