Page 31 of Enemies in Earnest

“I see that.” I folded my arms beneath my chest, feeling my core temperature rise at his insolence. “Whyare you putting up my storm shutters?”

With a huff, he dropped the piece of wood, balancing it against his shoulder. He turned and pointed with an aggressive frown toward the giant, gray black clouds rolling toward us from the horizon. “Do you see that storm? It’s coming this way.”

“You always make fun of me for putting up those shutters,” I told him, trying to take the piece of wood from his hands and place it back in my storage closet. “Why suddenly change tactics now?”

The wind kicked up at that very moment, as if in cahoots with Edwin to make sure they both succumbed to the panic the weathermen liked to force on the island for ratings.

“Acacia, not now. I need to get these up, immediately.”

“No.” I held on to the other side. “Not until you tell me why after years of making fun of me, treating me like I’m the asshole for wanting to protect my place of business, would you suddenly come running out here with your hands up screaming in terror over a few drops of rain.”

He pressed the shutter back against the closet, frustration making his arms flex and his jaw tick. I watched him take three deep breaths and count as he exhaled. It didn’t take more than five seconds, yet it felt as if it stretched on for eternity. I’d never seen him that agitated, especially not directed toward me. I wondered offhand if it was because I was such a jerk the night before.

“Look, if this is about last night…” I hedged.

“Jesus Christ! Acacia—look at the clouds. There is a named tropical storm heading this way. They think it might strengthen into a hurricane by the time it hits the Keys. You need to get your storm shutters up right now.”

He tried to maneuver around me, but there was nowhere for him to go. And I was not done with my questions. I needed more information than just whatever Mr. Overbearing deigned to throw my way in the midst of a tornado of activity.

“No.”

I pressed my hand to his chest. I felt him shiver beneath his shirt. The heat of his chest against the cool of my fingers sent a warm wave of longing through my bloodstream as well.

“Acacia.” He forced through gritted teeth. “We need to get a move on.”

“Absolutely not. You put those storm shutters up, and you’ll scare off all of the people coming to my event. They’ll think it’s canceled, and it will be ruined. We don’t need the storm shutters. You always say they’re blowing smoke up our asses, and it will be a few droplets of rain, and then we’ll all look like morons falling for it again.”

We’d acquired an audience. Klaus and Felicity stood at the back door, watching us go back and forth. My head cook and several of the line chefs joined us on the grass and were trying to sneak around Edwin to help pull shutters out. Those traitors. Who were they to take Edwin’s side?

“Acacia, all of those beautiful picture windows, the ones that you can open and close so people can take in the sea breeze on picture perfect days—they cost a small fortune to install. I remember when you put them in. You told Charlie and Hank that they’d pay off when people flocked to your little inlet to sit at your bar and just bask in the glory of gorgeous sunsets and postcard-worthy ocean views. Do you remember?”

He gathered the hand that was pressing against his chest and cradled it against his face. His lips pressed against my pulse point, unspooling long ribbons of desire up my arm and through my nervous system.

“Can you imagine what a horrible loss it would be if the wind from the storm shattered them? And what happens if you’re at the bar, laughing and talking to party goers when that gust of wind hits? I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt over something that could have been easily prevented by these pieces of wood. Let us put them up? Okay? Just to be safe. If the storm blows over, well—I’ll let you decide what to do with me.”

He smirked a devil may care smile at me and winked. He already knew he’d won. I didn’t even put up a fight as he pulled the piece of wood out from beneath my other hand and set to getting them all hung.

ChapterTwenty-One

With every passinghour the sky got darker. And with each update of the proximity of the storm to us, Acacia dug her heels in deeper. Thankfully my mom and most of the elderly ladies of the island had taken heed that morning and evacuated toward the mainland just to be safe. The storm wasn’t expected to be massive, a Cat One at most, but any suggestion of a powerful storm needed to be taken seriously.

Klaus and I quietly had let Acacia’s staff go home so they could take care of storm proofing their own houses and getting to their families. Everyone knew what Acacia refused to acknowledge. There would be no party. Mother Nature had other plans. Temperance had, however, become the gathering place for a few of us with nowhere else to go. Felicity practically vibrated with excitement, mentioning every thirty minutes or so that she’d always wanted to experience a hurricane.

Asher, Marley, and her husband Bear arrived some time ago, and we were all seated in a horseshoe booth along with Felicity and Klaus. Asher had regaled them all with hours of stories about his years at Dartmouth and the Shakespeare festival. They’d moved on to Marley’s recounting of giving birth to her twins two years ago at that very festival where she’d gone in search of Asher.

Now faced with the hurricane, she turned to Bear every so often to tell him she wished that they wouldn’t have come, and that she worried if their kids would be okay with someone named Raven and Penn if something happened to them.

“The word hurricane sounds scary,” I told them, interrupting their conversation. “But more than likely this will stay a tropical storm, which is probably akin to a really bad thunderstorm. If it bumps up to a Cat One, it will be a really bad thunderstorm with some scary sounding wind. But we’ll be okay. Most of the danger will be from falling trees, or from the tide getting pushed up against the breakers. Since we’re in an inlet, we’ll be safe from the worst of the tidewaters, and we’re in a steel building so the chances of a tree doing any damage are minimal. We’ll be just fine.”

They all seemed to take comfort in what I said, returning to their stories about theaters, plays, and the old Bard—which was apparently Shakespeare’s nickname. They couldn’t hold my attention. Not when Acacia wore a path in her wood floors, pacing back and forth from the windows to the door, and back again.

“Acacia,” I gathered her shoulders in my hands, trying to hold her still and quiet her nervous energy. “I need you to listen to me.”

She refused to meet my eyes. Even when I took her chin between my fingers and tilted her face up. Stubbornly she tilted her eyes toward the door, as if any moment a rush of people would come rushing in bemoaning the high winds and potential thunderstorm.

“They aren’t coming, sweetheart.” I pressed my lips to her forehead, as if that single act would take away all of her disappointment.

“Of course, they’re going to come. It’s Hemingway’s one hundred and twenty-fifth birthday. It’s too important to miss. We have a video this year—and we changed the whole program because you thought it was boring and needed to be refreshed. Asher worked so hard on getting all of the details just so. It’s going to happen. Maybe people will be a little delayed because traffic always gums up when there’s a rainstorm, but they’ll be here any minute now and we need to be ready.”

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