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“Good luck then,” Dev said.
“Thanks. Thoughts and prayers wouldn’t hurt either, if you’ve got any to spare.” Casey glanced at the walkway that led to the summer kitchen with what looked like real trepidation. “Or maybe spells and incantations. Because trust me, I need all the help I can get.”
His morning latte heating one hand and a frosty bottle of water chilling the other, Casey loitered by the Market’s screen door, counting down the seconds.
Three… two… one…
“Bye, Kat,” he called to the Market’s prickly proprietor. “See you tomorrow.”
Kat, arranging artisan Scottish shortbread next to the Oreos on her eclectic cookie shelves, merely hmmphed, but he detected a twinkle in her eyes above her cheaters.
Yeah, he wasn’t fooling her for a second.
As he had for the two weeks since he’d arrived in Home, Casey stepped out onto the porch at precisely 7:35, the exact time Dev trotted into view next to the Historical Society building.
Gotta love a man committed to a routine.
Casey didn’t bother to pretend it was an accident, the way he had the first couple of days, because, for one thing, water bottle. For another, there was no point. Nobody could be here at exactly the same time every day without some effort.
When he was feeling optimistic, Casey dared hope that Dev timed his runs to end at 7:35 just so they’d run into one another, but he figured that was wishful thinking. After all, Dev probably made this same run every day of the year. Casey had only been privileged to catch the end of it for fourteen days.
“Morning, Dev.” He held out the water. “Good run?”
Dev grinned and accepted the bottle. “Yep.” He uncapped the water and gulped about half of it down. Casey forbore from sighing at the way his throat worked, the sheen of sweat that made his dark skin glow, the curls rumpled by his workout. Sadly, he hadn’t been shirtless since that first day. Casey wondered if there was some way to encourage a repeat, but since he didn’t know what had caused it in the first place, he contented himself with appreciating the play of Dev’s muscles under the snug fabric.
The two of them fell into step as usual, heading back toward Harrison House and Casey’s daily purgatory. Mid-June in Home was even more glorious than the end of May had been, the air softer, the breeze lighter, the grass greener. Also as usual, Randolph Scott appeared out of nowhere to trot along between them like some kind of furry ginger chaperone.
Dev glanced down at the cat and chuckled. “He’s really taken a liking to you.”
“I think he’s taken a liking to the treats I slip him, not me per se.” Casey bit his lip. “It won’t hurt him, will it? People food?”
“I don’t think so, although Ty’s the one you ought to check with.” Dev chuckled again, a seductive burr that made Casey want to join in. “I’ve lost count of the times he’s informed me that cats are obligate carnivores.”
“They’re what now?”
Dev grinned down at Casey and Casey had to suppress another sigh. “Means they need meat to survive. You should have heard him ranting at the vegan couple who were insisting that everyone in their household—including their newly adopted kitten—eat vegan too.”
Casey laughed. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well.”
“Not for the couple. Ty accused them of animal cruelty, which, considering, you know, vegan, was quite the shock for them.”
“Did they agree to feed the cat meat?”
“They didn’t get the chance. Ty rescinded their adoption, took the kitten back, and found a different home for her.”
Casey shook his head. “I’ve gotta say that always surprises me.”
“About Ty getting militant? You’ve been here long enough to know how he feels about his patients.”
“No. I mean how much everybody in Home cares. About their friends, their neighbors, their jobs. I bet something like a poorly matched kitten adoption happening in New York would pass unnoticed.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But the people who live in Home are invested in the place, in what it’s always stood for.”
Casey smiled up at him. “Making Home a home, whether you have two legs or four.”
Dev grimaced. “Although the six-legged residents can be a big pain in the ass. Black fly season is no joke. And the mosquitos? Well, let’s just say that Ty’s bat house initiative got a lot of support!”
They reached Harrison House’s drive, and Casey sighed, shoulders sagging.
