I sighed. She obviously didn’t intend to make this easy, and I couldn’t go without getting a better read on her state of mind. “Can I come in?”

She hesitated, visibly reluctant.

“Please.” God, I couldn’t believe I was actually asking. Not only that, but wanting her to say yes.

Her shoulders slumped and her hands fell away from the door. “Fine. But I don’t have the energy to fight, so can we declare a temporary truce? I won’t try to talk about the past, and you don’t mention it either?”

“Okay,” I agreed. Better that than give her the chance to unleash whatever it was she’d been waiting for a chance to say. Although I did have to wonder, if she was giving up the perfect opportunity to force me to listen, just how upset was she?

“I’m making a grilled cheese,” she said, moving away from the door so I could enter. “You want one?”

“Sure.” I hadn’t eaten yet, so I may as well. “Thanks.”

I leaned against the kitchen counter while she put together ingredients for a second grilled cheese and started cooking. It was strange to watch her do something so mundane. It wasn’t like I thought she’d be traveling with a massive entourage, but I guess I’d overlooked the basic details of what living in Destiny Falls would be like for her. I was sure she had “people” who took care of things like cooking for her back home.

“How was the rest of the shift?” she asked, not meeting my eyes as she filled the kettle and set it to boil. “Tea?”

“No, thanks.” I looked around the room to avoid letting my gaze linger on her graceful fingers as they prepared a brew. I wondered if it was chamomile, which she used to drink in the evenings, but I didn’t ask. It was better not to know things like whether she still enjoyed chamomile tea. Easier to keep my distance. “The shift was fine. We had a minor kitchen fire that had already been put out by the time we arrived. Then had to warn some kids at the campground about the fire ban. They’d lit a bonfire, and someone called in a complaint. Oh, and Desdemona’s cat Claude got stuck up a tree again.”

“Again?” she asked, interest in her voice.

“It happens every few weeks. The cat is too chunky to be chasing birds, but he doesn’t seem to realize it until he’s ten feet above the ground and can’t figure out a way back down.”

She laughed, the sound throaty and over too soon, but I counted it as a win. “Are you ever tempted to leave him there? I’m sure he’d get down eventually.”