J.P. grumbled incoherently under his breath.
“Well, hello there,” the brunette on the end crooned as she rocked forward in her chair, peering to get a closer look. “How can we help you?”
“I…” J.P. twisted his hands together, his funny bone smacking the hammer slung in his leather tool belt. He choked on a painful groan. “I’m here to speak with the owner of the beehives out back.” His swollen lip inhibited the delivery, and suddenly he worried he sounded as though he spoke with an uncharacteristic lisp.
“That would be me.” Confirming his hunch, the woman in the center of the group lifted to her feet with two-parts grace, one-part determination and a splash of something else he couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe intrigue? “Nora Paisley. What can I do for you?”
“J.P,” he replied. “For starters, you can keep your bees on your own property.”
Her green eyes popped into a widened glare. “For starters?”
“Yes, considering you’re a beekeeper and all. Isn’t it your job to actuallykeepyour bees?”
“I can’t control where they travel,” she said firmly.
“Yeah, that’s really not going to work for me.”
“Excuse me?” Her arms bound over her middle in a defiant stance that matched the scowl forming on her mouth. “That’s not going toworkfor you?”
“Considering I can’t getmywork done since I’m repeatedly being stung, no, that’s not going to work.”
“Ah,” the darker haired woman piped up again. She pushed the rocking chair with a foot planted on the ground and waved her hand in a circular motion over J.P.’s face. “So that’s what this whole pouty lip thing is about. I thought maybe it was collagen injections, but a bee sting makes more sense.”
He didn’t appreciate the not-so-subtle mockery and was hopeful his eye roll indicated it.
“Those might not even be my bees,” Nora said with a little waggle of her head.
“Yeah? Even though you have dozens of hives in your backyard?”
“They really have no reason to leave my property this time of year. They have a water source and plenty of options for collecting pollen. And even when they do go exploring elsewhere, they don’t just go around stinging people unprovoked. Something has to set them off.”
“So you’re saying this is my fault?” J.P. hooked his finger around and pointed at his fat lip.
“I’m saying your lips aren’t really worth dying for.”
The more boisterous friend coughed out a laugh and smothered her mouth with her cupped hand before the guffaw had a chance to fully escape. “Sorry,” she said quickly when Nora glowered in her direction.
“Bees die when they sting,” Nora clarified, like J.P. hadn’t been taught this very well-known fact when he was in the fourth grade. “And my bees don’t go around just sacrificing themselves willy-nilly.”
Now it was the redhead’s turn to giggle.
Nora’s hands hooked around her hips. “I’m sorry you’re getting stung, but I think you should ask yourself why you’re being stung in the first place.”
“I’m being stung because there are literally hundreds of bees flying around my workspace!” J.P. thumbed his bottom lip, the lingering pain making him flinch. He dropped his hand, jamming it into his pocket.
“That’s funny because there arethousandsof bees flying around my workspace and I haven’t been stung a single time.”
He wasn’t getting anywhere with Nora’s stubborn will a twin match for his own.
“I can see you’re not willing to admit your obvious role in this,” he pieced together. “I guess I’ll just have to take things up with the county.”
Nora’s brow line hiked up her forehead. “You’re going to go to the county because you got stung by a bee? That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”
“I’m going to the county because your bee operation is prohibiting me from getting my job done. The job I was hired to do. I’m on a six-month deadline here and these bee-sting setbacks aren’t helping.”
Something resembling empathy softened her expression for a breath, but then her lips pursed into a pinched line and she shook her head. “No.” Her hand sliced through the air. “Do not go to the county with this.”
He caught her gaze shift back to the farmhouse and instantly understood her insistence. The amount of building code violations and unpermitted construction projects had to be in the double digits. A county worker snooping around her property could mean more than just the removal of her beehives. It could set into motion an entire series of wrongs to be righted, and for a pretty penny at that.
