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I wanted to be on the top of my game when I knocked on his door, tomorrow. I wanted to catch him off guard, but now it’s the other way around.
He caught me off guard by walking into the log cabin unannounced.
Why am I stressing about this?
It doesn’t matter what he thinks of me, anyway.
I’m here for work, and that’s it.
He catches up to me, and then uses a flashlight app on his phone to sweep light over a row of hedges on the side of the road. “Okay, hit me with the deets. We’ve got a gray cat… small and pretty. Anything else?”
“She’s skittish. Really shy. It took me months to get her to warm up to me in the first place. When I picked her up from the shelter she was petrified.”
“A sweet little fraidy cat. Got it.” He aims his light up at a tree. “She climb?”
“Anything she can find. Yeah. The first few weeks I had her in my apartment, she kept making her way to the top of my refrigerator, into this cupboard that’s up there. She’d burrow past the boxes of oatmeal and hide out for hours.”
He laughs. “That’s pretty normal.”
What does he know?
“Do you have pets?” I ask, as I aim my flashlight across the pavement, toward a stand of pine trees. Poor Queenie. She could be anywhere.
“Nope.”
“Okay, well, when we spot her can you let me try to catch her? She never even let Mortimer hold her. Every time he entered my apartment she ran and hid.”
“Mortimer.” He snaps his fingers. “That’s right. I couldn’t remember his name. Hey, so, Carly told me you’re doing great. Still in Boston, right?”
“I live and work in Cambridge, yeah.”
“Sweet. Love that part of the city.”
He matches my pace as we start walking along the paved road. The Manning’s ski house is at the top of a loop. Every now and then, the wooded area that lines the road is interrupted by a huge vacation home of one variety or another. We pass a modern stucco-and-stone two story place, then a dark wood log cabin similar to the Mannings. Both look empty, and I don’t feel bad about shining my flashlight beam over all the window ledges and into porticos and front porches.
Beside me, Parker does the same, only he aims his beam across the trees and houses on the other side of the road. Without even talking about it, we’ve split the search duties neatly down the middle.
It’s weird, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with him out here in the dark. We’ve fallen into a silence that feels almost comfortable.
Impossible.
I haven’t seen Parker in six years, since Carly’s graduation from B.U. There’s no way we can be sharing a comfortable silence.
It’s him. He’s doing that thing he does—pumping out the feel-good vibes. People gravitate toward Parker because he’s one of the “easy to be around” types. Friendly and outgoing, When you’re around him, it’s always aboutyou, neverhim.
I used to love that. So have all the other women he’s ever been with, I’m sure. Including all of Carly’s friends, Hannah and whoever else he’s wooed over the years. I’m one more of her friends that fell for his charms.
I can just imagine how Yoga-body Hannah probably ogled Parker out on the mountain, practically drooling while lifting up her mirrored goggles to get a better look at his chiseled jaw and broad shoulders.
Yep, I used to be right there with ya, girl, I think, as I sweep my flashlight along a stone wall that borders a Swiss-style chalet.
This time around, I won’t let him ensnare me in his spider web of charm.
If I have to be out here with him, walking down this peaceful country road without even one car in sight, I better use the time to my advantage.
Time to start working.
I cast a sideways look at him and ready my first matchmaking-related question, but then nearly get blinded when he flashes me a smile.
