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Then another.
On the phone, Carly chatters on about how I’ve always been too “influenced” by her brother’s charms.
But now I’m barely listening. My eyes widen as Queenie paces back and forth across the metal roof, each time drawing nearer to waiting Parker. I give a happy gasp when she then puts both paws up on his knee.
He reaches out and scoops her gently into his arms.
“What’s happening?” Carly asks.
“He got her! He got Queenie!”
“Do I need to, like, drive up there and stage an intervention or something? I’m starting to worry about you.”
“You don’t have to worry.”I’mnot worried right now, for once. Parker has my cat safely in his arms and I feel a warm glow of happiness swirling in my chest. “We’re good.”
“There shouldn’t be a ‘we’, Gemma. There’s you, my best friend, and there’s my irresponsible, off-the-rails, trouble-making brother. He’s a walking disaster. Don’t let yourself get caught up in his mess of a life, okay?”
I murmur my agreement and then hurriedly get off the line in time to accept the warm bundle of fur that Parker carefully hands over to me.
Queenie starts up with her loud purring the minute I hold her to my chest. I can feel the vibration travel through my body, as therapeutic as any medicine I’ve ever taken. “How did you do that? I swear, she’s terrified of most people.”
“Patience,” he says. “I let her make the first move. Always.”
“Now I feel like you’re talking about how you get with women, too.”
“You know it.”
“Parker’s secrets of seduction.”
“Works every time. The girls aren’t usually all about the fresh-water Salmon cat treats, though,” he says with an easy laugh, as he tugs a bag out of his sweatshirt pocket. He takes a treat out and offers it to Queenie. Of course, my cat eats it right out of his palm. “Though, hey, maybe I should give it a try one day.”
I grin. I can’t help it. I’m holding Queenie nice and safe in my arms, and joking around with Parker feels right. Also—he has cat treats in his pocket, all because of my cat. Maybe he bought them today. How thoughtful is that?
Carly’s warning feels a million miles away as Parker reaches out to pet Queenie’s head. Her purrs get about ten-times louder with his touch.
“Maybe some dinner, to celebrate?” he says. “I picked up stuff for a Chinese stir fry. Broccoli, red peppers, carrots… Figure we could eat some veggies to make up for the pizza, last night.”
“Mm. I love Asian food.”
“I know.” He runs his fingers gently under Queenie’s chin.
Okay… he picked up cat treatsandingredients for my favorite cuisine? He’s racking up some major points right now.
My quandary about mixed signals is at an all-time high right now, with Parker standing close, petting my kitty while she rests in my arms, and promising to fix us one of my favorite meals.
“You are being way too nice,” I tell him.
“Nah. That’s not possible. I’m happy you’re here and I want you to have fun—even if you are intent on badgering me ruthlessly for the entire visit.”
Right. I’m supposed to be badgering him about his dating life, not trying to insert myself into it.
I have a life in Cambridge, and a man that fits perfectly into that life. Mortimer is successful, sophisticated, smart, and—most importantly of all—he’s my 93% match.
Parker is crashing at his parent’s second home, working haphazardly at a bar whenever he feels like it, and serial dating women in Pines Peak. He narrowly avoided getting sent to jail a couple weeks ago, if I can believe Annie’s gossip.
Which, now that I think about it, perhaps I shouldn’t.
“Hey, speaking of badgering. I do have a couple more questions for you.”
