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He kills the engine and gets out, and I watch him head into PetSmart. I look down at my bundle, who has now quieted, and she is staring at me with wide green eyes. I reach into the deli bag and pull more meat from my sandwich, breaking it into small pieces and hand-feeding her. She swallows them whole, then demands more.
Meow.
“You’re probably thirsty. Lucas will hook you up.” I use my finger to pet her tiny head and she meows again. She’s completely calm, and I’m surprised she isn’t hissing and bucking. It seems like it takes forever, but Lucas returns with two big bags, putting them into the trunk.
The ride to my house seems long, but when we finally arrive, Lucas retrieves the bags and then opens my door. I punch in the code awkwardly, trying to hold my briefcase and food in one hand and the kitten wrapped in the blanket in the other.
Once inside, Lucas talks more than I’ve ever heard him speak, showing me how to change the litterbox, setting up the little water fountain he plugged in where the cat will have a continuous supply of water, and the bowl for her food.
“Feed her one scoop, once a day, and make sure the water’s filled up.” He sets a carpeted box with a pole in the middle of my living room.
“What the hell is that?”
“It’s a cat tree. Sir, she will tear up your furniture with her claws. Teach her to use this instead.”
“They sharpen their claws?” I ask.
He laughs. “Oh, yes, on every piece of available fabric in your house.”
I look at my leather couches. “Uh, okay, I’ll teach her right away.” I set the cat down and fold the blanket before handing it to Lucas.
He bends down to pet her, and she hisses at him. He laughs. “Hey, I helped you, you little monster.” She stops hissing and he manages to scratch behind her ears before she darts under the couch.
“She might stay there for a while. Cats need a while to acclimate to their surroundings. She’ll come out when she’s hungry or thirsty.”
I blow out a breath. “Guess I’m not getting much work done tonight.”
“You should relax, sir.” Lucas smiles and heads to the door. “Text me if you have any questions.”
“You’ve been a lifesaver. Thanks so much.”
“Of course. Have fun with her.” He glances at the couch, where the kitten watches us from beneath it. “Oh, and I’ll text you the name of a vet. She’ll need shots, spaying, chipping, et cetera.”
I nod. “Very good, appreciate it.”
After he leaves, I lock the door and crouch down, looking at my newest housemate. “Now, what will we do with you?”
She bares her teeth and hisses at me in return.
Seven
Quinn
I stretch my shoulder, wincing at the pain. An agonizing three-hour wait in the emergency room revealed no broken bones. Just a sprain, they said. They told me I could wear it in a sling to keep it still while it healed. I have no interest in that, so I stick to the medicinal salve I got at the smelly weed shop that seems to be keeping my pain tamped down. However, I couldn’t get the really good stuff because I’m not allowed to use any sort of THC products for another year.
Sitting in my office, I input the food discrepancies into the computer from the notebook we use to record them in. I’m afraid the notebook will get lost, torn, or ruined with food or drink with how much it’s dragged around the restaurant, so I make it my goal to get everything into a spreadsheet at least once a week, then I tear the page out and throw it away.
It’s a menial task, so I decide to listen to an audiobook while I work. I click the app on my phone and throw one wireless earbud into my right ear so I can listen while I make sure nobody’s calling for me from up front.
While I’m working, I half pay attention to the steamy romance book and continue putting numbers in. When that report is done, I create new spreadsheets for the alcohol inventory for the rest of the year so I don’t have to create new ones every time I sit down to do the monthly report.
The characters in my book are getting hot and heavy, and it makes me think back to that weird encounter I had with that couple on the mountain biking trail. I’d never been approached like that. It took me off guard, and I squirm in my seat as I think about it. The way her hand touched me. His lips on my neck. I find myself getting aroused, just like the characters in the book I’m listening to.
I’ve never been touched by a woman before. Does that mean I’m bisexual? I do like men but never thought to try things with a woman. Ainsley seemed to know how to touch me in all the right spots. Unlike that lousy prick of an ex-husband of mine. I push Garrett’s ugly face from my mind and close my eyes, trying to analyze these strange feelings. I wonder if Lincoln Silverstone knows how to touch a woman. He seems pretty stuffy, but there’s something behind his eyes I can’t quite figure out. He looks at me like he’s trying to figure me out too, but there’s a blaze of heat inside his eyes that remind me of a sparking swimming pool on a hot day. I admit I’ve looked at his hands on more than one occasion. They’re big, manly hands. Not with callouses and dirt under the nails like my brother and cousins, but there’s a strength there. I wonder if he could touch me there like Ainsley had done. Admittedly, the only orgasms I’ve had in the past three years have been from a couple of toys I bought online. They do the job, but they are no replacement for a soft, warm, human touch. Which causes me to think about the issues I had with Garrett in the bedroom. My ability to shut off my mind due to my hatred of him and how he treated me. How I used to punish him in the bedroom without speaking.
I realize I shouldn’t be thinking about these things at work and try to concentrate on the task at hand. I’ll call my sister later and have a conversation with her about my little encounter at the hot springs. Maybe she’ll have some insight for me.
My cell phone rings with an unknown number, so I disconnect the Bluetooth, pull the earbud out, and lift the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
