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Chapter 17

ChapterSeventeen

Nick

She’s sitting passenger seat in my truck, her hands tucked between her legs, her eyes cast to the view outside the window. I’d been looking forward to seeing what her version of ‘getting herself ready’ meant. I thought about it, about what she’d looked like when I got back inside. The entire time I plowed mine and my two neighbors’ drives, I wondered if her hair would be curled out to there or poker straight. I wondered if she’d have so much cover-up on her face, she’d look like a porcelain doll instead of the phenomenal woman who spent her days baking in my kitchen. The woman who smelled like vanilla, and lavender, and cookies. The woman who tasted like sugar, and honey, and sin.

When she asked me how long it would take to do what I needed to do outside, figuring that she’d need all that time to get herself presentable. I’d been wrong, because when I came back inside, I found her laying on my couch, her legs swung up over the back, her feet bouncing to a tune in her own mind, her eyes on her Kindle. She’d clearly been that way for some time as she had a half-eaten cookie on a plate on the coffee table and an empty mug of coffee.

She looked gorgeous in an entirely natural, entirely seductive way. Patricia had always been gorgeous. Always. She was like glass—a model every moment of every day—and she took hours to get herself ready for anything and everything. She never left the house unless she was perfectly done up. In the beginning, I’d liked that. Maybe that was my own immaturity, because as time went on, it annoyed the fuck out of me.

So, while I plowed, I’d wondered if I’d be annoyed by Sadie. I wondered if this would be the thing that would make her less attractive to me, only to come in, boots covered in snow, to find her lounging on my couch, entirely at home in my space—looking like a goddess in a cute red sweater dress that clung to all the right curves over black leggings. She’d straightened her hair, that was obvious, but her makeup wasn’t thick. It didn’t cover her skin like butter. I’m not even sure she’s wearing eyeshadow. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s wearing mascara, a little cover up, and some blush. Most men wouldn’t know this, but if a man spent a few years with Patricia, he’d know.

So, I know. And I like what I see. I like that she cares enough to put some effort into her appearance, but she doesn’t care so much that she obsesses. She’s perfect. Balance and beauty. At the end of it, she still looks like the woman I’m falling for. I think my most favorite part is that through the dust of her cover up, I can see her freckles. She’s natural, and I like that. I’m starting to think I like everything about her when she straightens in her seat, her lips parting, her hands lifting to the door like she’s going to, what? Jump?

“Oh my God,” she says, panic in her voice. “What is that? What is that? Oh, Nick. Nick, I think that’s a cat.”

My foot is already on the brake when she cries, “Stop! Stop the truck!”

“It’s a cat, baby. People have cats.”

“No, people don’t have cats laying in snowbanks on the side of the road,” she argues.

I can already sense that this is going to turn into something I’m not going to like. Maybe she isn’t so attractive, after all. Maybe I’ve found the one thing that’s going to ruin her for me—her bleeding heart.

Maybe I’ll get my head back under control. My thoughts under wraps.

“Stop the truck,” she commands again, even though I’m already veering to the side, already slowing down. As soon as the truck stops, her door is open, and her body is sliding down. I twist in my seat to see that she’s running back towards the animal. I’m surprised to see that it doesn’t even lift its head at her presence.

“Fuck,” I mutter. I hope the thing isn’t dead. If it’s dead, I think she’s the kind of woman that might freak.

After the last few days and the storm, if that’s a house cat, it probably didn’t survive. My hand is on the handle, pushing the door open to join her outside. I can already see she’s crouched down next to the animal. It’s all black, or we probably wouldn’t have seen it laying in the snow. She’s cooing softly, so the thing must be alive.

Oddly, I find myself grateful. I’m grateful because I don’t want to see her heart hurt. And I know it would have hurt to have found that it hadn’t made it.

“Oh baby, it’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll get you warm,” she promises the cat.

As I come up close, she must hear the snow crunch under my feet because she flips her head to the side, her eyes finding me. There is so much in those eyes. She’s pleading with me for help. As if I’m not already at her mercy, she spears me with words too. “We have to help him. We can’t leave him here like this.”

“Baby.” When did she become baby? I try to reason with her—or maybe I’m reasoning with myself. “He’s probably somebody’s cat.”

She shakes her head. “Nobody would just let their cat stay out like this. Not in that storm. And he’s been out in that storm.” Her eyes plead with me. “Nick he’s been out and he’s cold. And he’s tired. He didn’t even try and run from me. Cats aren’t like that. They always try and run. We have to take him in—at least to the vet. Or a shelter. There has to be somewhere that we can take him.”

I can feel my eyebrows inching up my face. “You want to take him to a vet in my truck? What if he pees?”

“He’s not going to pee.” She rolls her eyes. “And if he does, he’ll pee on me. Because I’m going to hold him the whole time.”

For a moment, I just stand there and stare at her. I’m not sure I’d win even if I argued, and that’s a first because I always win. But there’s something in her eyes that tells me she’s not walking away from this cat. She’s not leaving him here in the snow.

And if I’m being honest with myself now that I’m standing here looking at the poor thing, I wouldn’t either. “All right. There’s a vet in town. Let’s go.”

She smiles and it lights my world. Then she reaches her hands around the cat and brings him close to her chest. He relaxes against her even though I know by the wide green eyes that he’s scared.

She’s not wrong. The poor thing has been out in the blizzard. He’s probably a dump, but I don’t tell her that. We get them up here from time to time. Shitty people doing shitty things. People that should never have had animals in the first place dump them when they get too old, or start dating someone who doesn’t ‘like’ them, or sign a lease for a place that doesn’t accept animals. It’s all shit. It’s all an excuse. It’s fucked up, but it’s reality.

My closest neighbor, Bonny and Jim—they feed the strays and the dumps—housing them in old barns and sheds. They’ve got a few cats, so I wonder if maybe he roamed from there. But I don’t think so. He’s got a wild look in his eyes.

A look that says he had a home, and he was dumped by someone he trusted. Poor sucker.

Sadie climbs into the passenger seat, holding on tight to the cat.

Her thumb is stroking his head, and she’s cooing softly to him. He isn’t purring, but he isn’t fighting her either. So, I figure that’s a good thing as I put the truck in drive and head to town. I figure we’re not going to the mall today.

We drive for a good five minutes before she turns to me, her eyes bright with emotion. “Do you think he just got turned around in the storm? Lost in the blizzard?” There’s so much hope in her eyes—too much. “Do you think someone’s looking for him?”

I hate that she’s asked me this. Because, no, I don’t think someone’s looking for him. I think he came from a shit place. I think some asshole dumped him. I don’t even think they looked back when they did it. They probably thought the storm would eat him up just like it eats up so many others.

“I don’t know,” I say. It’s an evasion, and she sees right through it. So I add, “I guess we’ll see when we get to the vet.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. Then she murmurs to the cat again, “If you have a home, we’ll get you back there.” She nibbles her lip, thinking. “And if you don’t have a home, or if they left you there—then I’ll be your home.”

Wait, what?She’d be his home? She was going to take him back to Arizona with her?

“What do you mean you’ll be his home?”

“Well, we can’t just leave him, can we?”

She’s talking crazy, so it’s on me to be the voice of reason. “I’m sure there’s a shelter that’ll take him.”

She shakes her head, unconvinced. “They’re always full.”

Well, shit. “So, what if he doesn’t have a home? You want him to come home with us?”

I can’t believe I’m asking this. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.

I’m going to murder my mother. Painfully.

“I don’t want to leave him.”

“Sadie,” I try again to reason, but I’m already pulling into the vet parking lot. I cast my gaze to the building and hope they can do something for the poor guy, because I’ve never had a cat. I’m not sure if I want one. They are a lot of work.

There’s litter, and food—and what if he’s an asshole who scratches at things?

No. I don’t want a cat.

Sadie is already out the door, already walking for the building. She’s on a mission, and I’m hot on her tail.

Inside, the receptionist greets us with a smile. “Do you have an appointment?

Sadie shake shakes her head with a cute little wince. “No. We just found this little guy on the highway. He was freezing. We couldn’t leave him.”

Why the fuck do I think she’s cute right now?

Sadie presses on, “I’m hoping that somebody can help us. Maybe see if he has a microchip or a tattoo. If he’s missed.”

“Oh. Oh yeah, sure. We’ll get you right in.” The receptionist bobs her head with a sympathetic look in the cat’s direction, like he knows what she’s thinking—like he can read the sympathy on her face.

“Thank you.” Sadie says, pulling my scowl from the receptionist.

We’re guided into a room. It’s small, it smells, and I want to be about anywhere but here. The cat in Sadie’s arms meows a long and agonized wail. Clearly, he’s not a fan of this place, and in this I share his sentiment. His eyes are wild now as he looks around the room, suddenly energetic enough to wiggle in Sadie’s embrace.

She releases him, bending low to give him a scratch. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

The more promises she makes to the cat, the more trouble I know I’m in if he is in fact a dump without a home.

I watch Sadie try and win over the frightened cat with love until a knock sounds on the door. I’m relieved until I see the man who enters. I remember him from high school, but have seen him around town plenty since. Cottonwood Hollow isn’t big, and Robert Weisbrood gets around. He likes new toys, and he’s looking at her right now like she’s a shiny new toy come to town. He hasn’t even seen me yet, even though I know I’m no wallflower. With a face like mine, I’m more the beast you fear in the shadows—and everyone is aware of me as they try not to stare—try not to catch my eye as they sneak glances in my direction, hoping I won’t lunge.

I can’t say I’ve ever liked Robert, and I definitely don’t like the way he’s looking at her right now. Something low and unpleasant burns in my gut, simmering in my chest. Jealousy? Possession? I’ve never felt this for any woman in my life. If I’m being honest, I’d found it thrilling when men looked at Patricia as she stood on my arm.

I’m not the same man that I was, and this woman—Sadie—is mine.

Or I want her to be mine.

Fuck.

“Well, what do we have here?” Robert asks, his eyes sliding over Sadie as she crouches low to pet the cat again. Heat fills his too-pale blue eyes as she teeters, dropping to her knees before she looks up at him to answer.

“We found this little guy on the side of the road,” she explains as Robert looks down at her. I know what he’s thinking, what he’s imagining as she stays where she is on her knees, one hand stroking the cat. I want to hit him, but the sound of her voice stops me. “We couldn’t leave him there.”

“Poor little guy,” Robert sympathizes. “You did the right thing, bringing him in.”

“We’re hoping someone misses him. That maybe he has a microchip or tattoo.”

“I can check that for you.” He pulls a device from his pocket and waves it over the cat’s body. The thing doesn’t go off, and Robert looks again to Sadie. “I’m not detecting a chip.”

“A tattoo maybe?” Sadie hasn’t lost hope yet. I never had any to begin with. Again, it’s glaringly clear how opposite we are.

“Let’s get the old guy on the table. I’ll do an exam, and we can go from there.”

“Great.” Sadie is already trying to lift the cat, but he escapes her hands at the last second and she’s forced to turn, giving Robert a nice view of her ass. His eyes drop and fix on her, and I know what he’s seeing because I’ve looked. She’s got a great ass, but I’m not amused.

“There a shelter that can take him if he’s homeless?” I ask, my voice not even remotely friendly.

Robert’s eyes bounce to me for the first time, and I’m fucking stunned that this sucker honestly hadn’t taken notice of me before. His eyes move over my face, lingering on the scars that branded me three years ago. “Unfortunately, the shelters are full. As are the rescues.”

His eyes move from me to Sadie and back again as she lets out a puff of air, finally having caught the slippery little guy, lifting him onto the table.

“Got him,” she tells us what we can clearly see. “Let’s hope someone’s missing him then, shall we?”

“Yes, lets,” Robert agrees. There’s a furrow to his brow, like he can’t understand what a woman like her is doing with a man like me. She’s beautiful. There’s not a man alive who wouldn’t look at her with me and wonder the same. And I hate it. I hate that even though I want her to a point of obsession, I know she’s too good for me.

Robert begins his exam as Sadie continues holding the cat in place. The thing is quivering. Even through my irritation at the way Robert keeps looking at her, I feel sorry for the cat. It’s been through a lot in the last few days, and this isn’t helping.

I’m irritated, but not entirely surprised when Robert, clearly unable to help himself—the weasel—asks, “So, what are you in town for?”

“Me?” Sadie asks, surprised. When Robert nods, smiling at her, she answers, “The holiday.”

“You have family here?” His eyes flick quickly to her face. “I only ask because I’ve lived here my entire life and I’ve never seen you.”

“No family.”

Again, there’s a flash of surprise. But I’m done with this shit. “She’s staying with me, Robert.”

The little shit clearly doesn’t take the hint, because he has the balls to ask, “How do you know Nick?”

“We’re—” she pauses, like she doesn’t know what to say. From where I’m leaning on the wall by the door, my arms crossed over my chest, one ankle hooked around the other, I can see them both clearly. And I see when Sadie pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, her teeth biting down in thought. I also see the way Robert responds when she does that—like she’s a Christmas treat, and he wants to eat her up.

I’ve already had a taste, and I’m not giving her up. It’s time I’ve made myself clear to this asshole. So, I push from the wall to crowd Sadie’s back, my hands moving possessively to her hips. Again, I say, “She’s staying with me.”

There’s not a man alive who can miss what I’m saying here, and Robert most definitely gets what I’m putting out there as his eyes fall to my hands at her hips. They linger too long on my left, on the scars—the ugly that dare to mar her beauty with a touch, but I don’t pull away. And I think Sadie sees the look too, because she lifts one hand from the cat to cover my scarred hand on her hip, curling her fingers between mine to give me a squeeze before she tips her head to the side and back, looking up at me.

When I drop my eyes to her face, I’m shaken by the look I see in her gaze. It’s soft and filled with surrender. It screams loudly that if I want her, she’s free for the taking—however I want to take her.

The blood in my veins heats and Robert clears his throat. “There’s a tattoo. I’ll just step out and see if I can locate the owners for you.”

I don’t move from behind Sadie as he does just that, and when the door closes, I lift my scarred hand from her hip, up her throat as her breath hitches, catching her chin. I turn her head to the side again until I catch her eyes with my own. Searching them, I rumble, “I want it, Sadie.”

“What?” she breathes, her chest rising and falling heavily.

“Everything. All of you.” Her lips part, and I drop my mouth to hers, kissing her with a brutal possession that shocks me and leaves her mouth swollen and red. “Mine.”

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