Sawyer shrugs. “I don’t know. That’s why I brought him here.”
Laughing, I gently wrap the kitten in a kitchen towel, then hand him back to Sawyer. “You are hopeless.”
“Without you—absolutely.” Sawyer flashes me a grin, and I stand right where I am for a moment, afraid to take my eyes from his, but also terrified of losing myself in them. In him.
“Well, let’s see what Google says.” After typing If you find a kitten in the middle of the night, what do you do? into the search bar, I wait as the results populate. Then I skim through them, picking the one that looks the most legitimate. “Okay, so we shouldn’t feed him.”
“What about milk?” Sawyer asks.
I glance back as he cuddles the helpless kitten to his chest. Oh, be still my racing heart. Seeing such a strong, masculine man tending to a little kitten as though it’s the most important thing in the world? Catnip for me.
Shifting my attention back to the article before my mind wanders into dangerous territory, I keep reading. “Cow milk is dangerous, apparently. This says we should keep him warm and safe. Then get him to a vet as soon as we can.”
“Check on the warm and safe. Right, little buddy?” Sawyer carries Axel into the living room and takes a seat on the couch.
“Want some tea?” I ask.
“That would be great, thanks.”
“You’ve got it.” I fill and start the kettle, then head back into the living room and take a seat on the couch next to Sawyer. I tuck both feet up under myself and lean in to run my finger over the little kitten’s head.
He’s purring softly, his eyes partially closed as he rests in Sawyer’s arms like they’re the safest place in the world.
“So, Axel, huh?” I ask.
“Seemed fitting,” Sawyer replies softly. “I thought maybe you could keep him.”
“Me?” I stare up at him. “Why me? You found him.”
“I don’t keep hours for a kitten,” he says. “Between the shop and whatever orders come in, he would be so lonely.” The way Sawyer looks at me gives me the impression he might be lonely, too.
Is he?
“I can take care of him for you.”
“I’d rather you keep him safe. You’re good at that.”
“Taking care of kittens?” I ask with a smile.
Sawyer’s gaze locks on mine. “Making someone feel safe.”
A cup of coffee in my hand, I stand near my kitchen window, staring out at Sawyer’s shop. I hate that I can’t tear my attention away from it. Hate that I’m sitting here, waiting for just a single look at the man who has had me up, tossing and turning for the last two nights. The random midnight hang-up phone calls haven’t helped, either. But that’s something I can confront him about later since I imagine they’re just some childish way to get my attention.
I even missed church on Sunday. And now I’m on day two of not working in my own coffee shop because I just need a break. Katelyn and Garrison are both downstairs, running it for me. Of course, they think it’s Jack leaving that has me in the dumps. Little do they know it’s not the FBI Agent who has me tangled in knots.
Sawyer. As I watch, one of his bay doors opens, and he steps out. My lips part, and I lean in as close as I can without coming into view of the window myself. He’s folded his grey coveralls down around his waist. The white tank top he wears is streaked with motor oil, and his baseball cap is turned backward.
Oh boy.
His gorgeous, caramel eyes haunt me even from what should be a safe distance.
The desire I’d seen reflected in them Saturday night hasn’t left my mind since.
The need.
The restraint.
I’d wanted to push him into making a move. Wanted to prove Jack wrong, yet Sawyer didn’t do a single thing.
