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“I have an extra hanger if you’d like to hang up your coat,” she said, relying on good manners to get her through the overwhelming awkwardness she felt.
She went to shrug out of her own and felt his hands peel back the puffy nylon from her shoulders, in a move that felt so intimate and normal at the same time.
Good Lord, if she felt this way now about him taking off a coat, it was going to be a long evening.
She hung them up together in the microscopic hall closet, trying not to overthink the sight of them both together. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Troy check the door handle, then the deadbolt.
A soft bump at her ankle let her know the welcoming committee had arrived.
“Well hello, you,” Troy said, already leaning down and letting Popsicle sniff his knuckles before he scratched behind her ears.
Lincoln wasn’t that far behind. His low, annoyed meow followed a blinking, one eye at a time, meaning he had just been rousted from a nap and wasn’t pleased at the intrusion.
“You’re a big boy, aren’t you?”
Troy was right. The yellow tabby was a solid nineteen pounds and one of the longest cats the vet treated. He and Popsicle, who was a chocolate, runt of the litter pipsqueak, were best friends but total opposites.
“He doesn’t warm up to anyone unless there’s treats involved.”
“Doesn’t suffer fools? I like that in a man.”
“Nope. Come into the kitchen. That’s where I keep the kitty crunchies. You’ll have a friend for life in no time. Can I get you a cup of tea?”
“That sounds nice. Thank you.”
Megan pulled two cups down from the cabinet. They were mismatched and made by a local artist. Hers was her favorite go-to mug with blue swirls that fanned into flowers. His was taller, painted in greens with a leaf pattern that swirled into a tree canopy at the top.
Not being fancy, she filled both cups and nuked them in the microwave, as she always did for herself, and pulled out the various teas.
“Pick your poison?” she asked, turning to find him sprawled out on the floor handing out crunchies one at time, always in a different place to Popsicle’s delight and Lincoln’s annoyance. Popsicle was darting all over the floor, while Lincoln sat back and glared at the crunchy Troy placed just out of his paw’s reach.
“What you got?”
“Black, green, mint, oolong, Darjeeling, and a mishmash of a few others.”
“Darjeeling, please.”
“Excellent choice.” She plopped the bags in the mugs and went to the fridge. “Honey, lemon, cream, sugar?” She wasn’t fancy with heating the water, but tea demanded to have various toppings.
“Black, please.”
She slid a dramatic smile at him, impressed. “A purist. I like it.”
“I like tea. Granted I get coffee more, but I like the flavor.”
“That’s not a surprise given that you’re a foodie. Speaking of, I’m not a great cook, but I do have some cookies around here. They’re cinnamon.”
“Perfect for dipping.”
Grandma would’ve frowned to know her Brown Betty teapot sat up on the high shelf, unused when a gentleman caller was present, but Megan hoped using the saucers, a tray, and lining it with a crisp white tea towel would ingratiate her again.
She walked over to the living room and placed the tray on her thankfully clear coffee table. Troy followed suit, trailed by the cats—Popsicle dying for more affection, Lincoln resigned to entertaining unexpected company.
“You have a nice place here. It’s cozy.”
That was the nice word for small, but it suited her. Of course, to him it probably seemed like a closet compared to his ranch. It really was just her bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and living room, both of which were combined into one open space. She loved the exposed brick, but the water pressure in the bathroom was an area of concern. Actually, all of the fixtures could do with replacing, a fact which had been painfully obvious when Laura had come to stay with Holden and tried to bathe him.
“Thanks. I picked it out because of the location when I moved here,” she said, walking over to the birdcage she had covered when she left. Both birds were asleep.
