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“Fine!” Alanna hollered after the long-gone cat. “I didn’t want to pet you anyway, stupid fleabag.” This new ache in her chest? Nothing. Definitely not hurt feelings or the sting of rejection. Jutting out her chin, she stood and carefully smoothed her Versace high-rise jeans, which required no smoothing, then made her way to the door.
Intending to grab some paper towels from the kitchen to sop up the spilled tea in her bedroom, Alanna made her way down the stairs.
“Stupid cat,” she grumbled. “I SAVED that cat, and does she even have an ounce of gratitude? Hell n—” Suddenly, her foot was in the air, her arms pinwheeling. Alanna made to grab the banister. It tilted drunkenly under her hand, and her other foot slipped. Alanna squawked in protest as she landed on her ass and slid down the last three stairs like she was riding an invisible toboggan. She hit the bottom floor with a jarringthumpand sat, dazed, trying to catch her breath.
“Fuuuuuuuck,” she hissed. Her tail bone throbbed, but nothing else seemed bruised. Not counting her ego, that was. Her sock felt oddly damp, and she turned her head, noting several previously unseen puddles on several of the stairs.
The hellion had pissed on the stairs, setting aHome Alone-worthy pain trap on her retreat to the bottom floor. Because, of course.
“You’d better hide,” Alanna gritted to the unseen cat, who was probably lodged in the smallest, darkest crevice within the house. She slowly released a long, long breath. Didn’t help.
Alanna needed to stand up and dust herself off… only she couldn’t. Something horrifying was happening to her. Something strange and wrong and ghastly. Something that hadn’t occurred since the fourth grade when she’d returned from school just in time to watch a tow truck repossessing the silver Saturn.
Their home.
Alanna Sandoval began to cry.
The tears came fast, hard, and bitter. They raced down her cheeks like they knew their time was fleeting.
No! Alanna Sandoval did not cry. She did not wallow. She did not lose her shit, ever.
“What’s going on?” her mother called from above. “Was that the cat?”
With angry fists, Alanna wiped the tears from her face. “Everything’s fine,” she called up, forcing her voice to sound normal. “Petunia just got scared and peed on the stairs. I’m going to clean it up.”
“Oh, that poor cat,” her mother cooed. “I’ll be right out to help. I just want to get some stain remover on these pants.”
Alanna stifled another sob. “Take your time,” she managed and pulled in a long, fortifying breath.
One win.
She just needed one win for the day. It wasn’t going to be her mother’s hands and it certainly wasn’t going to be her relationship with the demon cat. It had to be something else. Alanna scowled at the banister with fiery hatred.
This. The banister. This was going to be her win. But how would she fix it? She’d never held a hammer in her life.
A face popped into her head. Guy Next Door! Those curious, intelligent eyes heated something deep and delightful in her belly. She remembered his soft mouth and strong jaw from their last encounter. Hadn’t he said something about fixing Tess’s front porch? And his home had practically been a construction zone.
Alanna paused on that last thought. What guy did major home renovations in the middle of the week? Was he unemployed? That would certainly explain the old beater in the driveway.
Gingerly, Alanna stood. After changing her socks, then cleaning the cat piss on the stairs and the spilled tea in her bedroom, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand. She scrolled through her contacts. The Crazy Cat Ladies had swapped numbers at the meeting two days ago. She found Tess’s number and called.
“Alanna?” Tess sounded slightly surprised on the other end of the line.
“I had a question about your neighbor.” Alanna pressed a hand to her aching tailbone and glowered at the space under the bed. Petunia wasn’t there, of course, but it would do as a receptacle for her anger.
“You mean Sully?”
Sully. Alanna let the name settle in her mind.Sully. Yes. That suited him.
“I accidentally knocked on his door instead of yours the other day,” she explained. “He said he did some work on your porch?”
“Yeah, he actually did a ton of work on this house,” Tess answered. “He’s really skilled.”
“Perfect.” Alanna imagined that the previous owner of Tess’s home must have hired Sully to spruce up the house before putting it on the market. He was probably known as the neighborhood handyman. “Next question. Is he an axe murderer?”
Her answer was a throaty laugh from Tess. “Well, I haven’t known him for too long, but so far he seems like a great guy.”
“Good enough,” Alanna said, mostly to herself. “I was thinking of asking him to fix a banister in my house. That is, if he’s not too busy with work.” Maybe Tess would know if he had a job.
