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***
My heart was still aching by the time I arrived at the office on Wednesday morning. I hadn’t seen him in twenty-one days, and I missed my big tiger boy. I missed picking up coffees for both of us and watching him inhale ten maple glazed donuts on the spot.
The little hopeful bubble that had swelled in my chest while my HagBook booted and I’d opened my email programburst, leaving me sad and frustrated. He hadn’t even replied to the last shop and website updates I sent.
I answered a few mails, and helped Hector with a few texts he needed for a project. It was almost eleven when my phone pinged. Too focused on the ‘about me’ for a romance author called Allegra Fawn, I didn’t realise at first who’d sent the text.
Roy: I know it’s short notice but could we have our meeting at my office today?
I stared at the screen for a long moment, then scrambled to type out my answer. I was desperate to see him again, to tell him…what? That I was sorry…not sorry at all for speaking up?
Kat: Yeah, wanna have lunch with me first?
Roy: Meet you at Hosier’s in an hour?
Kat: Deal!
***
The church bells chimed noon when I arrived at the chic restaurant overlooking the river bay. Roy was already waiting, claws digging into his forearms as he stared down at me. Nervousness oozed from him in waves.
“Hey, big guy.” Making sure to keep my voice open, I squeezed his elbow briefly before establishing the distance between us again.
“Hey.” He sounded numb, and I looked him over more closely. His clothes were wrinkled, his head topped with a ball cap that did nothing to hide his identity. He was too tall, too impressive to not be on everybody’s radar straight away. And even in his bedraggled state, he was too gorgeous to be allowed.
Roy, ever the gentleman, held open the door for me, and together we entered the dimly lit restaurant. Spotting us, the manager hurried over.
“Mr. Sinclair, it’s good to see you again.” He shook the offered paw enthusiastically, then did a slight double take when his eyes fell on me. “Welcome to Hosier’s, Madam.” The wide smile he gave me turned from surprised to genuine, and he squeezed my much smaller hand gently, before taking us to our table. Situated right by the windows, it gave us a beautiful view over the river Arnadh that split Kirkmuir in two.
“Thanks for,” he began, then broke off. He didn’t look at me but outside at the glittering water, and the glass and chrome riverside new-builds.
For what?
“Do you think it’s nice, living in one of those?”
I followed his gaze over to the apartments that surely cost an arm and a leg, or a kidney, in rent per week. “I suppose so. If you like…that.”
Personally, I wasn’t a fan. I’d grown up in a crooked Brighton beachside mid-terraced house, and had lived in a quirky studio apartment before moving into Lo’sgorgeous loft. Those sorts of buildings lacked character, and I’d rather live in a tiny house than in a soulless concrete box, no matter how fancy it was .
“You don’t like it?” His eyes narrowed briefly on the row of expensive houses, then came to rest on me.
Being around Roy was always intense, but his gaze ignited me. His eyes widened, the pupils blown and heat suddenly blazed in the irises the colour of a polished gold coin. I hadn’t meant to lick my lips, but couldn’t stop my tongue darting out to wet them. A low growl rumbled in his broad chest in answer as he leaned in.
“Hi, I’m Caroline, I’ll be your server today!” The chipper voice from right next to our table made both of us flinch hard.
He, who was never rude to anyone, kept staring at me as he answered her. “Hi, Caroline, nice to meet you.”
I was tempted to laugh, but found I couldn’t. All the wetness in my body had abandoned ship to pool in my core, and I was mesmerised by his intense gaze.
“Can we get two of the alcohol free IPAs, the spare ribs for me, and—?” One eyebrow cocked, he silently waited for me to order.
“Spare ribs,” I breathed.
Caroline chuckled as she collected the menus from our table. “Coming right up.”
Neither of us spoke, neither looked away. Our server brought the beers that we drank in silence, then our spare ribs, forcing us to eventually let go of each other’s gaze. I’dnever before been aroused by someone eating, but watching a four hundred pound Tigris devouring a plate full of spare ribs was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen.
The way he licked his lips and fingers clean, foot long tongue rasping as it brushed over his fur, had me shift restlessly on my chair.
