“Maybe we should practice—” Rose gasps. “Reed.”
“Yes?” Pretty sure my ears swivel toward her like satellite dishes to hear whatever it is she wants to practice.
She grimaces. “I mean Cat-Reed. He’s downstairs.”
She nods behind me, and I look over my shoulder. A fluffy white-and-gray cat sits at the bottom of the stairs, blue eyes staring at us like we’re the top slots on its hit list.
She’s right. He does look like a grouch.
“Is this unusual?”
The couch dips next to me as Rose slides over to sit directly beside me. She’s moving slowly, craning her neck to see the cat better. Her bare leg presses against mine, lighting my skin on fire.
“No,” she whispers. “He hates me.”
She named a cat with a permanent stink-face who she thinkshatesher after me. The unflattering comparison clunks around in my gut. If she only knew the half of it. But if she did, she wouldn’t be discussing potential PDA in our pretend relationship—she’d probably be looking for a new job.
“I think maybe he was feral before, or almost.” She’s still whispering, speaking slowly for the cat’s sake. “He’s at least a few years old. I felt bad for him in the shelter. People mostly only want kittens.”
“They didn’t have any info on him?” He looks scraggly to me. Like he’s seen some things. A little thin, maybe, but it’s hard to tell with all that fur.
“No.” She leans even closer, reaching one arm across me to wiggle her fingers at him. He stares blankly as if he’s not interested, which defies all logic. “Maybe he’s learned that people hurt him, or they move and leave him behind. It’s natural it might take a while to get him to trust me.”
“It sounds like you’re doing everything right.”
“I’m trying to be patient,” she whispers. Then she exhales a soft laugh. “I’m really not, honestly. I want him to love me back so badly.”
She turns her head to meet my gaze. She’s so close, she might as well be in my lap. I’d barely have to move to touch her face. Hold her. Kiss her. We breathe the same air for a moment before she shifts away, putting a few inches of space between us on the couch.
“He’ll be devoted to you soon enough,” I tell her. “Just give him time.”
I’ve got a sinking feeling I could be talking about either male in the room right now.
Her smile works straight through my ribs. “I hope you’re right.”
Ahurk-hurksound breaks the soft moment. I turn as the cat loses its dinner all over the entry runner.
“Oh, Reed,” Rose sighs. Her gaze darts to mine. I lift an eyebrow. “Okay, you’re right. We’ll find him a new name.”
text thread
Rose: We should do some Q&A
Rose: Study up on each other
Rose: I need to dig around in your brain
Reed: Not creepy at all
Rose: Are you a morning person or a night owl?
Reed: Morning
Rose: I figured. You always look happy when you open
Reed: Happy?
Rose: Less like you’re imagining our customers meeting unfortunate accidents
