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“I just—you don’t?” A considering look fills her eyes, and I’ll bet she’s mentally rifling through all my visits to the library, searching for a time when there was a laptop at my elbow. I already know she’s going to come up empty. The light dawns, and I’m expecting a piteous look. Instead, she just huffs an impatient breath and waves me on again. “Fine. We don’t need a computer right away. I can look up some stuff on my phone to start.”
I slide the key home, but pause again, earning myself an adorable growl from Summer. I meet her eyes over my shoulder.
“First thing you need to do when you get inside is strip.”
That sets her off balance. She gapes at me as her entire face flushes a deep red. “Horny much? I’m all about seeing you sans clothes, but I seriously want to tell you my ideas first. I’m not sure I’ll be able to concentrate if we’re nude.”
I bite my bottom lip to keep a smile at bay. “You need to change because you handled all those cats at the shelter. It’s better if Smaug isn’t exposed. It’s a health thing.”
Summer smirks. “Of course. A health thing. I promise to immediately remove my clothes when we get inside for your cat’s health. Now open the flipping door, slowpoke!”
She wasn’t lying. I’ve barely shut the door behind us and her sneakers, T-shirt, and pants are tossed into a pile beside the threshold. Summer strolls across the room in her sports bra and flowery panties. The edge of her tattoo peeks out from the lacy edge.
Suddenly, my mind gives a shit about money. All I want is to get her under me, her hands stroking my skin, her voice moaning my name. But when I follow her into the bedroom, I find my spot in her arms already claimed by my goddamn cat. Smaug lets out a content purr.
Little fucker.
“Put him down and get in the bed,” I command.
Summer shakes her head and sways her body as if she’s rocking a baby instead of an abundantly fluffy feline.
“Give me one of your shirts. I want to tell you my ideas.”
“Sex first. Then ideas.”
Summer snorts, then starts humming a Christmas song to my cat, essentially ignoring me. Can’t a guy get respect in his own home? Giving in, for now, I pull a T-shirt out of my drawer and toss it on the bed for her, specifically choosing one that shrank in the dryer. When she sets Smaug down and pulls it on, the bottom of her ass peaks out. My librarian glares at me, but I keep my face as blankly innocent as I can.
“Fine. Play dirty. And to think, I’m going to give you my genius ideas and solve all your problems.”
“All my problems?” My eyes dip to my waistband. Since I handled a shit-ton more animals than Summer did, it was even more important I not contaminate my place, meaning I stripped a second after she did. Wearing nothing other than a set of briefs, it’s pretty clear what the sight of her is doing to me. A problem quickly arising that needs her fixing.
“That’s it! No more talking near a bed!” Summer saunters out of the room, and I follow like the tamed animal I am. I find her in my kitchen, washing her hands at the sink. Good idea. Want to get clean before we fool around.
She flicks water at me, the cool drops on my bare chest making me shiver. I lean down to kiss her shoulder before nudging her out of the way with my hip and grabbing the soap. As I build up a decent layer of suds, Summer starts talking.
“Are you ready? Ready to hear my genius?”
“Hope you’re not overselling.” I tease her, knowing that even if it’s an impossibly lame idea, I’ll still make as if she’s detailed the cure for cancer.
“Never. Here it goes. Two-pronged plan. Save your job and increase your income so you can help your dad with his bills.”
Yeah. That’s the dream. A larger advance from selling my book would’ve helped with number two. But that dream is already spent. I stay quiet and let Summer keep talking as my hands find a dish towel.
“You work at a nonprofit. So why not apply for a grant? And not just one! I’m betting that I could find tons of grants related to animal shelters.”
The world around me rocks at her words. The idea didn’t even occur to me.
Probably because I’m shitty at asking for help, and that’s basically what a grant is.
“You mean, fund my salary with a grant?”
“Maybe!” Summer’s hands are flying every which way. She reaches for the cereal boxes I keep on the top of my fridge. But she doesn’t move to pour herself a bowl, or even grab a dry handful like I prefer. She just clutches the boxes to her chest like the Honey Nut Cheerios are somehow going to contain her excitement. “But maybe it would be enough to find a few to offset other costs in the shelter. So your boss isn’t dealing with such a tight budget.”
“That…could work.”
“Right? And I could help, and I bet Jasmine would, too. She’s written a few grant proposals for her library that got accepted. I think we could do this, Cole!”
I don’t want to get excited about something that might not work out, but just having something to do, not sitting by passively while my life crumbles, is enough to give me hope.
