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“You’re all done,” she says after deftly attaching the bandage to the inside of my forearm.
“Thank you.” I feel dazed as I make my way down to my car. It has little to do with my injury, which isn’t as bad as it first looked. A couple of good scratches, but nothing that won’t heal in a couple of days. I suspect the feeling has everything to do with the memory of her fingers smoothing the bandage across my arm and those rosy lips of hers.
13
FIONA
I’m about to head out the door, running late for work, when my phone rings.
“Joe, I’m heading out now. I’ll be at the office in twenty minutes, tops.” It means skipping my coffee run and relying on the brew at the office, but that’s what I get for hitting the snooze button one too many times.
“Oh, good. I was hoping you hadn’t left yet. My car won’t start. Would you mind giving me a ride?”
“Sure. Where are you?” I grab my purse, phone, and keys.
“Down in the parking lot.”
“I’ll be right down,” I say, walking out of my place and locking the door.
I see him standing next to my car, holding a cardboard box.
“What happened?” I ask when I notice a rustling sound coming from the box.
“I left the interior light on. It was dark by the time I got back from the pet store, and I had to dig around for all of Spike’s stuff. I guess I forgot to turn it back off and this morning the battery was dead.”
“I can give you a jump,” I offer, looking at the box suspiciously.
“There’s no time this morning for a long ride to recharge it, but if the offer still stands when we get back, I’ll take you up on it. For now, Spike and I would appreciate a ride to the office.”
“Spike? Appropriate name. How’s the arm?” I unlock the car and get in, waiting for Joe to get settled with the cat in his lap before pulling out onto the road.
“It’s healing nicely. Thanks for the first aid. This won’t be a problem?” he asks when I sneeze.
“I hope not.” My eyes are watering. I open the window, and it helps keep it from getting worse. Apparently, I’m allergic to cats. We’ve always been dog people, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this close to a feline.
“I’ll make sure he stays in the writer’s room and keep him in the box as much as possible.” Joe adjusts his seatbelt and coos at the kitten in the box. He’s petting its little head, and Spike purrs.
“He’s cute. Do you mind if we make a quick coffee run?” I ask, desperate for a caffeine and sugar fix.
“Not a problem at all. I wonder if they would mind pouring Spike a little cream.”
“Are you sure that’s okay?” I ask. I don’t know much about cats, but I’m pretty sure the whole cream thing is a myth.
The barista at the drive-through is happy to pour a small to-go cup of heavy cream, and I’m relieved when Joe keeps it closed until we get to the office.
I am not so patient and promptly burn my tongue when I take a quick gulp at a traffic light.
By the time we make it into the office, I’m a hot mess, trying to juggle my purse, keys, and two large cups.
“Oh, my goodness. He’s adorable.” Cara takes one look at Spike the cat and is a goner.
I shake my head, hand Joe his coffee, and head to my office.
“Everything okay with you?” Cara asks when she steps inside and closes the door behind her half an hour later.
“Of course, why wouldn’t it?” My eyes are still watering and my nose won’t stop running, but other than that, I’m good.
“You’re not upset that I helped Joe set up his apartment. I promise nothing is going on between us. I ran into him at the store, and he looked so lost—”
