Page 17 of Bear and Order

I immediately regret every decision that led me here. "That's not what's happening."

"It sounded protective."

"It wasn't."

A snicker escapes her — warm, satisfied, entirely too pleased with itself. The sound does something mysterious to my chest that I choose not to examine. Safer that way.

Juniper finally extends her hand across the counter. "So we're partners?"

I look at it. Then at her. Then back at the hand. The partnership feels like a terrible idea — which probably explains why I'm already considering it.

"Temporary partners," I correct.

Her smile widens. "Temporary partners." I shake her hand. The moment lasts longer than necessary — not long, just long enough to notice. Long enough to feel. Juniper notices it too; the realization appears briefly in her eyes before vanishing. Neither of us mentions it.

I release her hand. Immediately. Professionally.

"Remember the rules."

Juniper beams. "I wasn't listening."

Of course she wasn't. The realization should annoy me. Instead, a reluctant smile threatens at the corner of my mouth and I suppress it before she notices.

Judging by the grin spreading across her face, Juniper Bell noticed anyway. She notices everything.

This partnership is going to be a disaster.

9

JUNIPER

The register is empty. Again. I focus on it anyway, as though money might magically appear if I look long enough. The bakery is quiet — a few customers drifting in and out, not nearly enough — and the cancellation from earlier still sits heavily in my chest alongside everything else. The missing inventory, the forged warnings, the complaints, the constant, gnawing feeling that somebody is slowly dismantling everything I've spent years building, one piece at a time.

The bell above the door rings.

I glance up. Brock steps inside, and his gaze finds me immediately. Something about that realization feels oddly comforting, which is ridiculous — the man spent our first meeting looking like he wanted to arrest me.

"Inspector," I say.

His mouth twitches, barely. “You do know my name."

I pretend to consider it. "I'll need documentation before I believe that."

A quiet huff escapes him. Not quite a laugh, but close enough.

"How's business?"

The question takes me off guard, because it sounds genuine — not professional, not investigative. Just genuine. I glance at the empty register, then back at him.

"What do you think?"

His gaze follows mine. "I see."

"That's a polite way of saying terrible." I react calmly. "Any new problems?"

He gives me a look. "I came to check in."

Something warm settles unexpectedly in my chest. I immediately ignore it. "Well, congratulations. I'm still standing."