Page 27 of The Beekeeper

“It’s a business arrangement,” I repeated the phrase I must’ve said two dozen times in the last two days as I feverishly framed the narrative to my family around Blaze and Paisley moving into the farmhouse with me.

The house was plenty big enough.

He was giving me free marketing for my honey.

How could I say no when Paisley was afraid to go back to the apartment every night?

Max offered them his place, why can’t I?

Lou’s reply was the same as everyone else. “I know, but⁠—”

“It was his idea, Lou. Not mine.” Another point I emphasized with phonetic bold, italics, underline, and three exclamation points at the end: He asked, not me. “And it’s just temporary until he can find something more ideal, but right now, he doesn’t have another choice. Not without jeopardizing his case.”

“And what is it jeopardizing for you?” she asked, seeing right through all my reasons.

“Nothing,” I said firmly. Rehearsed. “I’ll never get an opportunity like this for my business. There’s no way Adam can claim I stole this idea from him, and I can finally just move on from this cloud he’s hung over my dreams.”

Lou looked at me silently; I’d said too much—rambled. Even if it was all true, it wasn’t the whole truth. But I didn’t want to admit out loud that maybe my attraction to the man wasn’t as buried as I’d tried to make everyone believe. Including myself.

“You don’t need to convince me, Harper. I just…” Lou sighed heavily. “Just because you didn’t create the cliff you’re standing on doesn’t mean I won’t worry you might go off the edge.”

“I’ll be fine,” I clipped, blowing right past plummeting to my death analogy. I’d already suffered the consequences of falling for Blaze Stevens once, I wouldn’t be making that jump again. “Wait for me, Pais,” I called and picked up my pace; the worker bees were no longer stinger-free, and I didn’t want her to get stung.

The bees were the only thing that could tempt both Paisley and me from the house while Blaze, Wade, and my brothers helped him move in. With all of us in the house, it was too many people trying to help at once. The house was big, but cut up in a floor plan that made it feel small. Rooms, hallways, doorways dated back to not long after the Revolutionary era, the house was cozily cramped with six adults and one child trying to move along the same path.

Translation: By the third time Blaze and I had bodily crashed into each other in the stairwell—both of us, I think, rushing to avoid the other—he firmly insisted that he didn’t need my help. And then suggested I take Paisley outside with Lou so the rest of them could move in the big stuff.

“Are we going to check on the queen?” Paisley asked.

“No, not today.”

Instant fear marred her expression. “What if she’s not okay?”

My throat tightened. Ever since I’d shown her that first honeybee queen, she’d been Paisley’s first concern. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why—or to worry about what could happen. It wasn’t common for a queen to die, but it was possible…and entirely out of my control.

“We know she’s okay because all her daughters are still here, working away like normal,” I explained and crouched down, watching with her where the bees entered and exited the hive, off to forage for pollen. “Remember how I told you the bees know who lives in the hive because of their scent?”

She nodded.

“Well, that scent comes from the queen, so if she wasn’t okay, the other bees would be confused and not working like normal.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. “Kind of like people.”

Whether it was a question or a statement, it was achingly perceptive for someone so young.

“We all work different when someone important to us isn’t okay,” I said just as Lou joined us.

“So, are you excited for your new room, Paisley?” my cousin asked, crouching next to her niece. Whether she’d heard the last strains of our conversation or not, I was grateful for the change of topics.

Her head bobbed and she smiled for a second before snapping her head to me with a fresh coat of worry. “Won’t you be afraid? To be downstairs by yourself?”

I caught Lou’s lifted brows over Paisley’s head.

“Oh, no,” I assured her. “I was upstairs by myself before. Now, downstairs, I’ll just be closer to the ice cream.” I winked, and she broke into giggles. “Why don’t you introduce Aunt Lou to all the bees? I don’t think she knows all the names you’ve given them.”

Paisley grabbed my cousin’s hand and pulled her along. Lou shot me a look over her shoulder, its message clear: I couldn’t avoid a conversation with her forever.

The whole bedroom arrangement had been an unexpected ordeal this morning.