They dissolve into laughter.
I step into the doorway, and both women go quiet. Keisha turns, her expression shifting smoothly from gossip to innocence.
“Oh, Imani. Getting your supplies?”
“Yep.” I move past them to the shelves where we keep the cleaning kits. Spray bottles, microfiber cloths, scrub brushes. I start loading them into my bag, trying to look like I wasn’t just eavesdropping.
But my mind is spinning.
The grumpy bear shifter from the school. The one who yelled at children for singing. Is that the same Tolin I’m about to spend a weekend with?
And Earl... that’s a different bear shifter entirely. Old guy with delusions of swagger. Not my problem.
But if Tolin is the one who made a scene at the elementary school, what else is he capable of?
“You know,” Keisha says, her voice syrupy sweet, “you can still back out. Derrick would probably be thrilled if you changed your mind. He could find someone else.”
“I’m good.” I zip up my bag and sling it over my shoulder. “Thanks for the concern.”
“Just looking out for you.” She smiles, all teeth. “We girls have to stick together, right?”
I don’t dignify that with a response. I just head for the door, supplies in hand, mind already running through everything I need to do before tomorrow morning.
Shop for groceries. Go home and pack. Get a good night’s sleep.
And prepare myself to spend a weekend with a grumpy bear shifter who apparently terrorizes children and makes cleaning ladies cry.
Should be fun.
At least I’ll be away from Keisha for a few days. At this point, I’d rather deal with a grumpy bear than her passive-aggressive comments and nasty little smiles.
I push through the front door and head for my car, the shopping list clutched in my hand.
It’s long. Detailed. But there’s no column for alternatives. No notes about brand preferences or substitutions. Just a bare-bones list of items and quantities.
I have his phone number, scrawled at the bottom of the page in Derrick’s handwriting. I could call and ask.
The thought makes me cringe.
If this guy is as bad as everyone says, the last thing I want to do is give him a reason to complain before I even show up. Better to just make my best guesses and hope for the best.
I slide into the driver’s seat and look at the list one more time.
Double pay. That’s what matters. Double pay means the green velvet chair might be in my apartment by February. Double pay means I’m one step closer to the life I’m building for myself.
One weekend. One grumpy bear shifter. One chance to prove I can handle anything this town throws at me.
I start the engine and pull out of the lot.
How bad can it really be?
5
TOLIN
She’s late.
One hour. One full hour past when she was supposed to arrive, and I’ve been standing in the cold like an idiot, splitting wood I don’t need to split, waiting for a car that should have been here at four o’clock.
