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She brightened a little at that. The faintest smile passed over her lips, and I could tell she wasn’t sure if she should show too much relief in front of me. She was probably worried I was going to bite her head off.
I stiffened again before the elevator dinged and she led me to yet another elevator to take us higher in the building. I was playing a dangerous game with Kenzie. The chemistry between us crackled in the air, thick and powerful. All it took was a glance or a smile and I could feel the nerves just under my skin lighting up in anticipation of her touch. Worse still, I could see she felt the same way.
A primal part of me knew all it would take is one touch and we’d both spiral out of control. We’d be fucking before we knew what hit us, and I wasn’t sure I’d be strong enough to keep her at arm’s length if we took it there. Again.
The elevator doors dinged and Kenzie had to bang on an inner door once we exited. “Travis! Let us in!”
A lock rattled, and the doors opened to reveal a man around my height, which was uncommon. He had messy hair, blue eyes, and a way of holding his features that said this man rarely took life more seriously than he had to. I instantly disliked him.
“Oh look,” Travis said. “It’s the author. Bicep to meet you,” he said, reaching out and shaking my hand. He winked, so I pulled my hand back abruptly, glaring.
“Travis, please try to be normal. For once,” Kenzie said.
“What would be the fun in that?” he asked.
“Where’s the cat,” Kenzie said. She was shorter than him by almost a full foot, but when she advanced on him with a raised finger, he took a step back, holding up his palms.
“I know nothing about a—”
Mr. Meatball meowed softly and came flopping into view.
I felt my mouth hang open and Kenzie’s glare intensified.
Travis’ lips pressed together and turned down at the edges as he tried to hold back a smile. “Okay. So I stole the cat! Sue me.”
“I might,” I grated.
He scratched the back of his head. “Let’s examine the situation, here. You’ve got a cat you clearly don’t want to take care of. My sister being the evidence to that point,” he said, gesturing to Kenzie with both hands. “Mr. Meatball and I happen to get along swimmingly. If you ask me, I’ve just solved a problem for you.”
“Clarify,” I said. I was watching Kenzie’s brother carefully. Part of me wasn’t sure if I was about to let the liquid rage surging through my veins boil over. I could hit him. I could grip him by his shirt and shove him against the wall. But part of me wanted to hear him out. A bigger part of me suspected Kenzie wouldn’t forgive me for attacking her brother.
“What if I keep the cat?” Travis asked. He clapped his palms together, shrugging and pursing his lips as if it was a crazy, but reasonable suggestion.
“You stole my cat and you want me to say you can keep it?” Punching was definitely going to be the best option here.
“Steal is a strong word. Mr. Meatball and I had a great time and he wanted to come hang out at my place. I let him. I was going to bring him back eventually, anyway.”
“You stole my cat,” I repeated.
“Alright.” Travis pulled out a checkbook. “How much do you want for him? A million dollars? Two?”
I stared. “I don’t want your money.”
Kenzie was watching our conversation like a tennis match, her head whipping back and forth between us.
“But I want your cat,” Travis said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I like unique things. This is a unique cat. He’s completely helpless, picky as hell, and when he meows it sounds like he’s trying to talk like a human. Who wouldn’t want him?”
Kenzie was chewing her lip, and I could tell she wanted to say something.
“What is it?” I asked her.
“Well,” she said with a sigh. “I know this isn’t in my best interest, but Travis really does take good care of his pets. They’re like his children. If you let Mr. Meatball stay with him, I’m sure he’d be happy. You did say if one of your caretakers ever took a liking to him, you would consider adoption.”
“One,” Sebastian said. “He’s not one of my caretakers. He stole the cat. Two, you’d be out of the job.”
“From the sounds of it, you were only keeping Mr. Meatball because you felt obligated, right? This would be a win-win for you,” I said.
“And a lose for you.”
“Why are you so concerned about me?” I asked. “Last time I checked, you seemed to want nothing to do with me. This should make you happy. It fixes two problems. You don’t have to keep looking for cat sitters because your cat is in a loving home and you don’t have to deal with me anymore.”
