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It was a strange and sad statement. How could a beautiful, rich girl like Waverley Abbott feel so insecure?
“I think you overestimate the average American man,” he said, choosing to keep things light instead of attempting to delve deep into her psyche.
She smiled wryly. “Right.”
She clearly didn’t believe him. It was crazy.
Although he admittedly didn’t know her very well, their few conversations had demonstrated a quick and intelligent mind—despite her poor choice in a husband. But now that he knew how she’d gotten tangled up with Spencer, he could forgive her that transgression.
He pulled up to the curb in front of her building and looked up. The place looked even worse than he remembered.
He was almost afraid to see what it looked like inside.
She grabbed the tin of sardines and opened the door. “Thanks for the ride, Reynolds,” she said, getting out. “Even if I would have been perfectly safe walking home on my own. But it is nice to be home earlier than I expected.”
Her appreciation was overwhelming. “See you tomorrow.”
She shut the door and, carrying the sardines far in front of her, marched up to the entrance of the building and disappeared inside.
He pulled away, keeping the windows down to get the stink of sardines from his nose as his mind played over tonight’s adventure.
Waverley Abbott was definitely not who he’d initially thought she was. There were no airs, no snobbery, just an almost childlike excitement and exuberance for life and a heart that, although bruised, was still open to helping others. People and cats.
One thing he did know about Waverley Abbott was, one way or another, she was going to be trouble.
Chapter 8
Waverley rearranged the plate of chocolate chip cookies a second time, keeping an eye on the door for Reynolds’s arrival. She’d decided last night as Mouse, her newly named kitty, snuggled up on her lap that she needed to step up her game today and make sure Reynolds couldn’t find a reason to fire her. Which was why she’d made a batch of her mom’s chocolate chip cookies to bring today. No one could resist them.
Hopefully not even Reynolds.
The chortling sounds coming from the coffeemaker she’d found in the tiny kitchen located between Reynolds’s office and the bathroom told her the coffee was nearly done brewing. Another surprise she was praying would put the guy in better spirits.
She looked around the office space in satisfaction. In the three days since he’d been gone, she’d given the entire office a deep cleaning, washing the walls, the blinds, and the floors, and dusted every cobweb-ridden corner until the place practically shined. The coffeepot had needed a good scrubbing, too, as she had doubts Reynolds had ever cleaned it before, or at least hadn’t cleaned it in the last six months. Same with the fridge and sink.
There were still a few things she’d like to change, like a new rug for the front office and fresh paint on all the walls, but that would have to wait until after she made sure she still had a job here.
A shadow crossed the front window, and she turned to see Reynolds passing it, looking casually sexy in jeans and a long-sleeved navy shirt. He opened the door and stepped in, and her stomach swirled in nervous tension.
Last night when they’d been standing in the shed together, she’d acted on instinct when she kicked him, using a move she’d learned in a self-defense class she took in college but never had reason to use before. It might have stunned her as much as him that she’d managed to land a solid kick.
When he’d gasped and looked up, giving her a glimpse of his face, she nearly hadn’t recognized it as the usually smooth jawline was covered with dark scruff. Scruff that was all gone today as he stood in front of her, those dark brown eyes staring moodily back.
Her stomach fluttered as the nervous energy that she felt when he was near her returned. Smiling, she lifted the plate toward him. “Cookie? I made them myself.”
He practically growled as he passed her, not even pausing to look at her efforts. She wouldn’t let that stop her. “Coffee is brewing. Can I bring you a cup when it’s done?”
He grunted, which was as close to a yes as she’d probably get.
When she came into his office a couple minutes later bearing a mug filled with fresh black coffee, he was typing away at his computer.
“Here you go. If there’s anything else you need, let me know,” she said, setting the mug of coffee next to him.
“Why don’t you have a seat.”
Immediately her spirits sank. That didn’t sound good.
Waverley tried not to look worried as she took the seat across from him. She could understand why Reynolds would be unhappy with her for taking a case he’d declined. It was reckless, she supposed, even though it wasn’t like she’d taken a case for a bail-bond jumper or a blackmailer. It had been a lost cat, for crying out loud.
