Chapter 22

TWENTY-TWO

I didn't let him have a second to rethink his yes.

Okay, so it wasn't even really a true yes, but I was taking the win.

Flushed with victory, I rushed around my apartment to get his carrier, favorite toys, and a week's worth of food.

Nolan remained on the couch with him, and the two were definitely bonding.

I had everything stacked up, and I was about to go get dressed when I glanced back to find the both of them out like a light. Nolan's eyes were closed and his hand cupped Gizmo's butt to make sure he didn't fall.

My heart somersaulted as I had to take a step back.

Oh, no.

I wasn't allowed to start falling for this cranky pain in the ass.

But he was so good with Gizmo. In all his grumpy posturing, there wasn't a single bit of it with my cat. In fact, the jerk had actually relaxed enough to sleep.

I wasn't sure I'd ever seen Nolan relax about anything.

Unsure what to do, I tossed my throw blanket on top of them and went down the hall to my bedroom. It wasn't terribly late, but I was in that fuzzy post-drinking tired place.

Maybe if I just rested my eyes for a little bit.

Next thing I knew, there was a cat sitting on my chest, patting my face.

I opened one eye and groaned as sunshine filled my room. Gizmo crawled off me to the other side of my bed where a very large man was on his stomach, one arm under one of my decorative pillows and his face slack with sleep. He still wore his T-shirt and stupid jeans.

How on earth was that comfortable?

I'd been officially naked with him three times, and he still didn't trust I wasn't going to run screaming at his scars.

Then again, maybe he was just being a gentleman since I hadn't invited him to sleep in my room. Gizmo curled up on the small of his back like he had done the day before. I laughed and rolled off the bed quietly.

Knowing it was food time, Gizmo quickly leaped onto the floor.

It wasn't that early, and my mouth felt like my cat's litter box. Gross.

I opened a can of turkey delight for my little troublemaker and set a pot of coffee to brewing while I went to brush the death out of my mouth. My face was next as I got rid of what was left of my makeup and wrangled my hair into a braid. I checked the weather report as I padded back into the kitchen and was happy to see a high of only mid-eighties for the day.

Finally, a little reprieve from the oven we'd been living in.

I fixed two mugs of coffee—my own brew from Macy, thank you very much—and brought them both back to my bedroom. Nolan was still out like a light, but he'd moved diagonally across the bed and stolen my pillow. I grinned down at his scruffy face pressed into the pink satin. His features were softer and younger in sleep.

I set the mug on my nightstand and smoothed away his overlong hair from his eyes.

He hummed out a soft groan, mumbled something, and settled back into slumber.

I took my mug with me to my walk-in closet to find something to wear. I'd need to set up Gizmo at the mansion, and I had a few errands I had to run—the usual things I put off until the weekend, like groceries and picking up a few samples from one of my suppliers. Summer would quickly be passing us by, and I liked to keep abreast on all the new trends.

Designing Women preferred to stay with classic, timeless remodels, but there were always a few people who wanted the next big trend going around on social media.

I settled on white shorts and a breezy cotton shirt in my favorite olive tone. When I turned, I found Nolan awake. He was half sitting up with his hair all spiky, and confusion marring his features.

"Morning."

He spotted the coffee mug and grunted before reaching for the mug for a sip.

Not a morning person. Why was I not surprised?

Then again, I'd had a good thirty minutes on him, as well as a whole mug of coffee. "Impromptu sleepover, huh?"

He gulped down the coffee. "I wasn't taking all that cat crap with me at two in the morning."

"I didn't have the heart to wake you on the couch with Gizmo. You two were too cute."

He grunted again.

Definitely not a morning person. "I'll just take these into the bathroom and get dressed."

"Why?"

He was propped up on his elbow, his long legs taking up my whole bed.

"So, you play shy with your clothes, and I'm supposed to dress in front of you?"

He closed his eyes.

I laughed. "Ass."

He opened one. "What? I can be a gentleman."

Two could play that.

Nonchalantly, I dropped my robe.

He fell flat on his back and pulled my pillow over his face.

I grabbed a cute bra and panty set from my armoire and stepped into the stretchy boy shorts with lace across my butt.

"You're killing me."

"Thought you weren't looking," I said over my shoulder.

"I lied. Goddamn, Hellcat. Your ass should be illegal."

I buckled my bra and turned back to him, tugging up my shorts. It was weirdly intimate to actually put my clothes back on with him in the room, but it didn't feel as strange as it should.

It felt like this could be any other morning.

A morning like couples experienced.

And that was a dangerous way of thinking. Especially when he was anything but a couple kind of guy. Why I kept forgetting that, I'd never know.

I slipped on my shirt and tried not to react to his gaze on me.

On every inch of me, no less.

After sitting up, he swung his legs off the side of the bed. "You took all the drawings down."

"They're not down. I just moved them to the studio."

He reached over for the mug and finished it. "Got any more of this?"

"Kitchen. I brewed a pot."He left the room, and I followed him down the hall. "What do you have going on today?"

"I have to go to a Sunday dinner at Mace's tomorrow." He raked his fingers through his hair. "Hell. Am I supposed to bring food?" He refilled his mug and took another long sip as if it wasn't piping hot. What the hell kind of asbestos tongue did he have?

Or maybe it was ruined from all those Red Hots.

"Did she tell you to bring food?"

"I didn't even know I was being invited until she kicked me out the other day." He took another gulp. "She had to go talk to Gideon. She's pregnant."

Surprise hit me first, followed by a pang. "More babies. My goodness, I figured they were done."

Nolan just lifted his shoulder, but I could tell he wasn't quite sure how to react.

I walked around the kitchen island. "Tell you what, I need to go to the grocery store too. We'll find an easy salad to make."

He frowned. "Make food?"

"Imagine that?"

"Yeah, maybe."

I patted his chest. "Welcome to small town living, pal. Family dinners are a thing."

He just drank his coffee.

I rolled my eyes. "Do you want to stop off at your place first?"

He glanced down at himself, then he shrugged. "I've been in worse states."

"I have an extra toothbrush in the bathroom."

"Why is that?"

"For sleepovers." I patted his chest, but I didn't elaborate. Let him stew on that.

We took his truck and came back to my place with far too many bags. Nolan in a supermarket was a scary endeavor. What was it like to not look at prices at all?

He didn't even blink at the total. Just swiped a card and bagged up three-hundred dollar's worth of food and overpriced things to put the food in because he didn't have any everyday items like bowls and serving utensils.

I'd cheated a little and texted Macy for a heads up on the menu and ended up with an invite.

Guess this was going to be a weekend full of Nolan and the Devereaux-Gideon clan.

And odd domesticity.

We worked well together in the kitchen. He was startlingly adept with a knife.

As if he'd been taught by someone who was far more professional than me.

In the end, we ended up with a kickass pasta salad full of fresh veggies and a homemade Caesar dressing. The way he naturally put things together in a bowl without measurement made me uncomfortable.

Especially since I was baking a dessert, and I could only function with a recipe—the more precise, the better.

He served me up a bowl of the pasta while we waited for my lemon bars to bake.

"Okay, so you weren't lying. You can cook."

He stabbed his pasta and veggies and took a healthy bite. "Yep."

"So, where did you learn?"

"Little here, little there. I did a sculpture for a chef. Asked for lessons instead of a commission."

"What chef?"

"Secret." He took another bite.

"You suck. But that makes sense considering your knife skills."

"Yeah, he liked teaching, but hated chitchat. We got along well."

"Shocker. You not liking conversation? No way."

"I'm having one now, aren't I?" He finished his bowl and rinsed it before tucking it into my dishwasher.

Without being asked.

Stunned didn't even cover it for me today, that was for sure.

The buzzer for the oven saved me from trying to extract any more information out of him. I was stunned he'd offered up the chef detail. I barely knew anything about him—except for his exceptional skills with his mouth.

I took out the lemon bars and set them to cool. "Do you want me to follow you out to your place with Gizmo?"

"Nah, you can hold him on your lap, and I can throw his junk in my back."

He was gruff, yet surprisingly thoughtful. I'd take the win.

Getting Gizmo into his carrier was another thing entirely. It took us twenty minutes of chasing him around the apartment and half a package of treats.

Little stinker probably assumed he was going to the vet.

My guilt ratcheted up at the idea of changing his whole life with this move. I set the carrier on one of the stools at my kitchen island and crouched in front of the mesh opening. "I promise this is going to be so good for you. Mama is giving you a whole mansion to play in. And I bet Harriette will love you."

"You know that ghost won't be bonding with your cat, right?"

"How do you know? Might be just what the ghost needs to be a little happier. Maybe even move on."

Nolan shook his head.

I picked up the carrier. "It's okay, Gizmo, the big grumpy beasty Nolan will love having you. He just doesn't know it yet."

He had a tote bag with treats, food, and toys over one arm and the litter box in his hand. Pretty sure his face was set in stone at this point.

Gizmo was just what he needed, I was sure of it.