21. Chapter 21

Bear isn't moving, and neither am I, because…

What. Just. Happened?

One minute I was in the shower. The next minute, the shower was everywhere but on me. I still have shampoo in my hair.

Water still shoots from the uncovered pipes under the bathroom sink, through the open door, all the way to my hanging rack of clothes and the cheap MDF dresser perpendicular to it. Everything is soaking wet, the water is threatening to spread through the entire apartment, and I'm naked.

And Bear still isn't moving.

I pull my towel off his face—mostly grateful he's unconscious so I can do this without trying to cover up—then gently lift his head and feel for any bleeding. When I don't find any blood, I tuck the towel under him and lower his head to it. Only then do I run to the rack of clothes for my wet bathrobe, dodging the fire hose of water still coming from the sink.

One thing about being around Bear… he's keeping my emergency training skills sharp.

Once I'm not completely naked anymore, I run to the freezer and grab a bag of frozen peas. By the time I make it back to Bear, his eyelids are fluttering.

"Bear?" I pat his cheeks to bring him back to consciousness. "Bear? Are you okay?" Water drips from my wet hair to his cheeks.

He moans and blinks.

"I'm going to put this ice pack under your head." I lift his head with one hand, pressing his face against my chest to keep him upright while I slide the peas underneath him.

As I lay him back down, Bear's eyes come into focus, drop to where my robe has fallen open to my cleavage, and go wide. He quickly moves them back to my face, but not before his cheeks turn bright red.

"Welcome back." I let out a relieved breath and smile, mostly because I'm glad he's okay, but also because he looks so embarrassed I can't stop myself.

With the rushing stream in the background, this could be a very romantic moment.

If the stream wasn't inside, drenching all my clothes, and if I wasn't kneeling naked—mostly—over the guy who's made my life miserable—mostly—since I arrived in Paradise.

First there were mice. Then squirrels. Now a flood.

I've got to hand it to Bear…he doesn't give up easily.

I pull back my smile and focus on the next emergency to address. "Tell me where the main shut-off line is."

"Cassie… I'm sorry… I didn't mean—"

"—Bear, we need to turn off the water."

"I'll get it." He pulls up his knees and tries to sit, but only makes it halfway before moaning and falling backward.

I catch him in time to lower his head gently back to the peas.

"It's outside, on the west wall. You'll need a wrench." Bear points to his toolbox.

"Which one?" I hold up three different ones before he nods.

I grab the flashlight I find with his tools, then clutch my robe over my chest and head for the door, taking only a few seconds to slip on my boots. Cold air hits my bare legs and arms as I step outside, making me gasp.

I consider grabbing my coat, but it's on the rack of clothes that are still getting soaked. Plus, the water is quickly spreading. If it gets any deeper and Bear passes out face down, there's a chance he could drown. The odds are one in a billion, but I'm trained to assess every possibility.

With no time to waste, I take a breath and run outside.

My robe only falls open once when I have to use both hands to wrench the line shut while holding the flashlight in my mouth. But it's dark out, and no one is at the florist next door. At least I hope not.

When I go back inside, Bear is sitting up against the kitchen cabinets where the floor is mostly dry. For now. He presses the peas against his head and squeezes his eyes shut as I close the door.

"I didn't see anything. I swear. I'm so sorry." His shoes and pants are wet, and we're both shivering. "Why are you nak… why aren't you dressed?"

"Because I never shower in my clothes."

"I told you I was working on the pipes."

"You didn't tell me not to shower!"

Bear's eyes flutter open, and I clutch my robe before he shuts them even tighter. He's so young that no wrinkles form at the corners of his eyes as he squeezes them. He's a baby. A huge baby who looks vulnerable, and not scary at all. Which makes my heart pinch in a funny way that I don't enjoy.

"Keep your eyes shut while I find something to wear." I walk past him, watching him closely to make sure he doesn't peek.

Did he cause this flood? Maybe in a last-ditch effort to get me out of the shop or out of revenge for seeking historic status? Maybe he thinks I won't buy the building if there's major water damage. Or maybe he's actually trying to destroy the entire building, so it has to be torn down.

Or, maybe…I'm being paranoid. I honestly don't know anymore. I want to believe Bear, but why do these things keep happening?

I walk to the hanging rack, hoping to find something to put on, but with no luck. Every piece of clothing on it is wet. Not damp. Soaking, sopping wet.

I give up on finding anything there and try the drawers where the rest of my clothes are. The drawers which were also directly in the water's path.

If Bear did this, he's gone too far this time.

I tug on the top drawer—the one with my underwear—but it's already warped and barely budges.

"Did you do this on purpose?" I scowl at him with the same intensity I use to yank the drawer open.

The drawer gives, and the force of my pull throws me backwards. I grab my robe and drop the drawer. Its contents spill onto the wet floor while I land on the bed.

"Are you okay?" Bear asks from the kitchen.

"I'm FINE!" I yank the robe closed and scramble off the bed, shooting him a glare on my way.

I am not fine.

"I didn't do this. The pipes are old. I was trying to fix the blockage." Bear sinks back to the floor. "I was too late."

I scoff, then slosh through the water and pick up the drawer and my underthings from the floor. My underwear may have been damp before, but now they're soaking wet. Every last pair. I don't even bother ringing them out, just toss them back in the drawer.

"I swear, Cassie. I wouldn't do something like this on purpose."

When I look at him, Bear has his eyes pressed closed.

I guess I should give him credit for that. At least he's a gentleman when it comes to not looking at me when I'm naked.

"You only work in mice and squirrel sabotage? Is that it?" I'm sort of teasing, but that gets hidden in my frustration.

The drawers also fall victim to my irritation. I yank the bottom drawer from the dresser and find one pair of sweats that's reasonably dry.

"The squirrel thing wasn't my fault. They needed a new place to live. You told me there weren't any cats left here." Bear's voice is gruff and defensive, which only adds to the anger I'm trying to keep at a low simmer.

"Oh, so it's my fault?" I turn my back to him, kick off my boots, and yank on the sweats underneath my robe. I have no idea what to put on top. "Are you saying I should have known there were squirrels living in the shop?" I turn around with my hand on my hip.

I'm going commando. It doesn't feel great, but at least I don't have to worry about exposing my bottom half again. Plus, I've been pepper-sprayed before. I can take a little panty-less discomfort.

"That's not what I'm saying!" His eyes are still closed, and I hate that it's adorable. "But if you didn't have that stupid cat, there wouldn't have been a problem."

"Cats live indoors, Bjorn. Squirrels don't." My robe is wet, and I shake with cold.

"Unless they're babies who don't have a mother." His eyes fly open. "Then they have to live inside for a few weeks until they're big enough to live on their own." Bear says this as if it's the most reasonable thing in the world. Baby squirrels living inside.

Then I remember: Bear will be motherless soon. Maybe he feels that way already from what I've heard from Georgia. Maybe we're not really talking about baby squirrels.

Despite my best efforts, the robe slips open. I grab it before I expose myself a second time, but I can't stay in this thing all night. I'll have to throw it, and everything else, in the shop's dryer once Bear leaves.

"You should go," I say more gently than I've said anything else, but still not very gently.

Bear's eyes narrow. Seconds pass, and he doesn't move. Then he tosses the peas he's still clutching to the counter and walks past me to the shop door.

He swings it open but doesn't close it behind him. I follow him to see what he's doing but stop in the shop doorway in case the baby squirrels are loose again. I hear their chirping, so I know he hasn't found a new place for them, which means Willy Wonkat has to stay at Georgia's another night.

I'm about to remind him of this when he comes back into the studio holding a hockey jersey that says Paradise Squirrels on the front.

"Put this on." He tosses the jersey to me, then turns around.

I look from Bear to the jersey. It's the same one he was wearing the other day at his hockey game. His name is on the back.

Even if I had another choice, I couldn't resist wearing it. I turn my back to Bear, even though he's not looking, take off my robe and slip the jersey over my head. The sleeves hang past my hands, the neck to the V of my chest, the bottom hem to my thighs. It drowns me with its size and its smell. Bear's smell. Woodsy and citrusy.

I can't help myself. I breathe it in, letting the warmth of Bear's jersey blanket me with a peace I haven't felt in a long time. I have something to wear. I'm not cold anymore. There's comfort in knowing I don't have to figure out at least one thing on my own.

"You ready? We need to go," Bear says, his back still turned to me.

I come back to my senses, and the realization that the only reason Bear is taking care of me is because he has to. He's the one who caused all this. He's the reason I have no clothes.

"Go where?"

"My place. You can't stay here." Bear turns around and stares at me, swallowing hard.

His eyes are a blue flame, burning with the same intensity as the night we kissed. And I almost lose my senses again. His jersey is a reminder of just how much bigger he is than I am. He can't take his eyes off me.

Which are all excellent reasons not to go home with him. Who knows how much stupider I'll get if he does something as simple as open a door for me. Or make me dinner.

"I'm fine here." I cross my arms.

"No, you're not. There's no running water," he says so forcefully that I nearly listen.

Nearly.

"I don't have to take orders from you," I snap back.

Bear's eyes roll back, and he lets out a long sigh. "Today you do."

"No. Not today." My words don't stop him from stepping toward me, and I slowly back away. "Or tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next."

I barely have the last words out before he leans forward, wraps his arms around my waist, and tosses me over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" I scream.

"Tomorrow you can never do what I tell you to do again. But tonight, you are staying at my place. I'll stay at my parents." He grabs my boots from the floor, then carries me to the door.

"Bear! Put me down! I mean it!" I pound my fists against his back.

I may as well be trying to punch my way through the cinderblock walls in the shop. Bear's back is as solid as his chest.

But the truth is, I don't fight him as hard as I should.

I could get out of his hold if I really wanted to. I have moves. But I'm also not an idiot. My hair still has shampoo in it, and I'd really love to rinse off in a shower I don't have to squeeze myself into. I have to assume Bear has a Bear-size shower. Maybe even a Bear-size tub.

So I let him carry me to his Jeep, where he sets me on the driver's side, and hands me the keys.

"You'd better drive." He points to the back of his skull. "Head injury."

His lip twitches as if he might smile, which means I have to force my mouth not to do the same.

"Plus, Georgia's warned everyone you're a terrible backseat driver."

Before I can defend myself, he's already stepping away from the Jeep. "Turn on the heat and get warm. I'm going to get your stuff." He wags his thumb toward the studio.

I open my mouth to tell him not to worry about it, but what comes out is, "Thanks."

"I'll be right back." Bear takes two steps and starts to shut the door, then stops. "Don't leave without me… Please."

He goes to shut the door again when I remember something. "Get my sidearm too, please. I don't want to leave it in an unlocked apartment."

A look comes over his face similar to the one he had when he saw me in a towel, before he knocked himself out, and I have to bite back a laugh.

He turns to leave without bothering with the door, and I swear he mumbles, "That's hot."