AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I still don’t know why she ever stooped down to my level and let me kiss her, for those few crazy weeks after she graduated high school.
She was probably bored with the Wayland guys. Once she hit that fancy college of hers she definitely moved on. These days, I’ve heard, she’s dating some big-name author. What’s his name again? I think Carly’s mentioned it.
Morbid Phlegm-face.
No. Mort…. Mort-something. Cough-face. Coughlin.Laughlin. That’s it. Laughlin.
I stare at the closed guest room door that Gemma disappeared behind. When she emerges, she’s in matching purple sweat-suit and wool socks, and she’s carrying a flashlight.
“Wow. From Granny Gown to this. Looking good, Lafferty.”
She narrows her eyes at me as she shoves her feet into her boots. “I am going to look for my cat, whom you let out into the cold, dark night.”
She’s scrubbed the green stuff off her face, and now I can definitely tell that she’s flustered. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes keep darting over to me and then away as though I make her nervous.
Well, maybe it’s not me making her nervous. Why should I make her nervous? It’s probably her concern for this cat of hers that I’m picking up on,.
She crouches to zip her boots and then stands, stomps over to the door, and yanks it open. A drafty chill sweeps through the room. “She is a house cat and she doesn’t know how to deal with wolves or… or… grizzly bears.”
Laughter rakes through me. Man, is it nice to see this girl. Hear her voice say the silly things I used to get such a kick out of. “Gem, there are no wolves in Vermont. Or Grizzly Bears. Seriously, take a deep breath, have some food with me, and we’ll figure out how to get Queenie back.”
I’m about to explain how good a piping hot pizza from Moe’s will taste when she steps outside and pulls the door closed behind her with a bang.
I give one last, longing look at the grease stained white box on the chair beside me. My stomach growls, but I ignore it and follow Gemma out the door.
Chapter4
Gemma
Do not freak out. Do not freak out. Do not freak out.
Maybe if I tell myself that on repeat, I’ll get my blood pressure down and manage to have a single clear, logical thought. As I traipse across the cracked pavement of the log cabin’s driveway, my mind feels cloudy.
Parker’s here.
At the log cabin.
And he just saw me in my old-lady nightgown.
I make my way past my own car, then a monstrous hunk of rusty metal that must be Parker’s current vehicle. I’m too distracted to pay much attention to the truck’s lift or knobby tires.
Ishouldbe distracted by the fact that my poor kitty is out in the wild. Even if Parker’s right and there are no wolves or grizzly bears out here, it’s still dark and cold and dangerous outside. There are owls out here. And… what? Moose eager to stampede over dainty cats, probably. I don’t know. I’ve hardly ventured out of Boston for the past decade.
Queenie probably doesn’t even know which house to return to, once she gets it in her kitty-brain that she should try to retrace her steps.
But it’s not Queenie’s predicament that’s filling up my head with clouds of worry at the moment.
It’s the dawning realization that after years of successfully avoiding Parker, I just ran into him while wearing a seaweed face mask and a plaid, flannel gown so big and bulky that I must have looked like a sailboat, waiting for the next gust of wind.
And what’s worse than my mortifying display of sleep-apparel nerdiness is the fact that he’s as built, tattooed, handsome, and relaxed as ever.
Mr. Cool in that white t-shirt and baseball hat pulled down low over his brow. Who wears a t-shirt when it’s this cold outside? Parker, that’s who. And I made a total idiot out of myself by screeching about Queenie and then storming out the door.
I hear the house’s door close softly behind me, and then his deep, slightly croaky voice floats out from under the eves. “Hey, Gem? Wait up.”
I turn and see him jogging toward me.
Oh, god. The embarrassing night continues. Now he’s going to try to help me find my cat, and I’m sure I’m not going to give a good impression, given the fact that I’m shivering and flustered and slowly starting to actually worry about my fur baby.
