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With a little shake of my shoulders, I leave the gardens in a rush, practically tripping over a striped ball of fur that runs beneath my feet. It’s a thin tabby cat that goes hiding behind good ol’ Archibald, its golden eyes staring at me as the cat tilts his head to the side.
“Aw.” I kneel down, holding my hand out. “Come here, kitty kitty.”
The cat stares and I swear I can feel its silent judgment.
“Come on.” I rub my fingers together in a soft snap and make a tsking noise like I remember my mom doing when I was little. We used to always have cats because Mom loved them. Once she was gone, Dad gave them all away.
Every single one of them.
I keep calling, to the point that the sun is mostly gone and the sky is glowing a mix of purple and pink, tiny stars twinkling. I shift closer and closer to the kitty, until I’m actually touching it—I wish I knew if it was a boy or a girl.
“Come here, cutie,” I murmur, pleased to hear the soft, low rumble of a purr. “You are so sweet, aren’t you? Oh yes, you are.”
I’m even petting the top of its head, eager to coax it into my arms when I hear a deep voice boom from behind me.
“Are you actually communicating with that cat? Pretty sure you’re a fucking fairy princess, Daze.”
Gasping, I leap to my feet and whirl around, the cat scampering off, disappointment filling me for a brief moment at the loss. Just when I was making progress too.
But then I lift my head and find that it’s Arch standing in front of me. Clad in sweatpants and…
Oh my God, nothing else.
He’s all sweaty and there are AirPods in his ears. Very expensive looking Nikes on his feet. It’s obvious he was running and I do my best to keep my gaze trained on his face, but it’s like I can’t. Not when there’s so much bare skin on display.
He appears even bigger without a shirt on. Muscles everywhere the eye can see. His thick shoulders and bulging arms. His firm pecs and flat stomach with a hint of a washboard.
Wait, that’s no hint. His abdomen is at least a six-pack and oh my God, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a fit specimen in the literal flesh in my life. I know we’re basically the same age but he seems so much bigger, so much older.
He looks like a man, while I feel like an inept child.
“You’re staring,” he snaps when I don’t respond.
My gaze flies to his and I see irritation there. With a hint of something else. Something unfamiliar, but somehow, I recognize it. Because I have the same feeling tugging deep in my belly, reminding me that I’m a female and he’s a male and while we may bicker and fight, there’s something else brewing between us that is getting harder to deny.
Attraction.
Chemistry.
Whatever you want to call it.
It’s there, like an invisible string tugging, pulling me closer to him. I take a step forward, like I can’t help myself, and he doesn’t move, his gaze sweeping over me. Lingering in places that leaves me tingling.
“What are you doing out here? Looking for pussy?”
I rear back a little at his dark tone, at the words he just said. “Why are you always so crude?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, his expression almost blank. “I think you bring it out of me.”
“So, it’s my fault that you act like such an ass?” I can’t believe that question just flew out of my mouth, but when I’m around him, it’s as if I can’t help myself.
I just say what I feel, consequences be damned.
The faintest smile curves his lush lips and I swear my heart skips a beat. “Yeah. I’d definitely say it’s your fault.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I roll my eyes and wrap my arms around myself to fight off the sudden chill that wants to steal over me. Or maybe it’s his nearness that’s affecting me, making me all shivery. Pretty sure my nipples are hard too because they’re literally aching and it makes no sense. So, he’s shirtless.
So what?
