by Vivian Arend
“Most of the cats don’t get a lot of one-on-one affection. That’s where we come in. I do some chores to help Brett take care of them but also I get to play with them.” She hands me a calico kitten nicknamed “Patches.”
“Wait, what am I supposed to do?” A tickle of panic threatens. I’ve never had a pet. My mom could barely afford to feed us, let alone an animal.
“Just give them some love. I’m going to help Brett clean out a few cages.”
Give them some love. Right. Like I know what that means.
Emma moves away, chatting easily with Brett. The other man squeezes her arm, his touch lingering a bit longer than necessary. I look down at the calico kitten currently trying to climb the front of my T-shirt.
“This is not going the way I’d hoped, cat. I’m supposed to be charming her, convincing her to give me a chance and now she’s off with that guy and I’m stuck here with you.”
Patches meows plaintively.
“It sounds like you agree.” I run a finger experimentally over the kitten’s soft little head. It stretches into the caress. It’s so small it almost looks like a toy. It fits in the palm of my hand. There’s a movement to my right so I turn to see what it is and then immediately jerk backward. A hairless thing stands at my elbow, watching me with narrowed eyes.
“Uh, Emma. What is that?”
She turns to see what I’m talking about. “Oh, that’s Poochie.”
“What’s a poochie? And why is it bald?” The thing blinks at me with huge golden eyes. Now that I’m not so startled it looks less threatening. It’s so ugly it’s almost cute.
“No, that’s her name silly. She’s a cat. A breed called a Sphynx. She’s supposed to be hairless. Unfortunately, her last owner decided she wasn’t cuddly enough and abandoned her outside in the middle of winter. I can’t believe they just left her like that.”
I look back at the cat, now watching me with strangely human eyes. An image comes back to me, watching my dad’s car drive away from the house while my mom sobbed in the background.
“I think I know how she feels.” I stretch out my hand, slowly, tentatively. Poochie’s ears flicker but she doesn’t move.
“Oh dude, she never lets anyone pet her. She’s bitten me like five times.” Brett stops when Poochie walks forward, her head bent, and allows me to stroke the top of her head.
“Well, I’ll be damned. That mean ass cat finally took a liking to somebody.”
“Tank, can you help me? This one is stuck.” Emma points at one of the cages.
I stand carefully and Poochie retreats to the corner of the room. For the next hour, I help Emma and Brett by lifting cages and cleaning. It’s an easy hour, surprisingly. One where I’m not required to think about myself, just what I can do to help out. I’m starting to understand what Emma meant earlier about animals not requiring anything from you other than love. I scratch the kitten Emma’s holding behind the ears. Brett replaces the food and water in the cage we’ve just cleaned out.
I sit back down on the floor and Poochie slinks over. I’m not sure exactly what to do but she doesn’t require me to do anything. She rubs up against my shirt using me as a makeshift rubbing post. Another kitten crawling on the floor nearby climbs into my lap and curls up.
“This is amazing. I’m still in awe. You’re some kind of cat whisperer.” Brett holds out a clipboard. “If you wanted to adopt her, it’s easy. You fill out this form and then just pay the fees. She’s already up to date on all her shots and stuff.”
I’m shaking my head before he’s even done with his spiel. “Adopt? I can’t even keep a plant alive.”
He looks over at Emma. “So, how are you two friends? It seems like a bit of an odd matchup.”
I can’t disagree with him but the way he’s looking at her makes me want to stake my claim anyway. “Opposites attract, right? Besides, I’m sure Emma knows enough about animals for the both of us. I’m just here to help her out.”
I stand up and place the kitten back in its crate. Emma appears at my elbow. “She’s so cute.”
While I’m not an animal lover the way she is, it would take a heart of stone not to be moved by some of these little balls of fluff.
Poochie follows us as we move around the room.
“Come on, cat. It’s time to go.” I try to coax her back to me but she seems to sense it’s a trick. She gives me a mournful look and then retreats to the other side of the room. She presses herself against the wall, looking like she’d rather disappear than get back in the crate.
“She’s not coming. Not that I blame her.”
Emma makes a soft cooing sound. Poochie’s ears twitch but she doesn’t come any closer.
Brett waves a hand. “It’s okay. You can go. Once you leave, I’ll put her back. Thanks for the help today.”
“Of course. See you next week, Brett. Good luck with your exam.” She gives him a quick hug and then retrieves our coats. He watches her movements a little too closely for my taste. I grit my teeth and then shrug into my leather jacket.
There’s a mournful cry from across the room. It’s eerie, like the sound of a wailing ghost. Poochie yowls again when I step out of the room.
Emma doesn’t move. She looks horrified. “Aw, Tank. She’s upset that you’re leaving. Look at her.”
Against my better judgment, I poke my head back in the room and look at the meddlesome cat. She’s still doing that horrendous howling and trying to kamikaze dive against the wall.
“Okay, okay. Come here.” I crouch down and she immediately comes to me. I scratch behind her ears and she emits a rumbling purr. Brett walks up behind us. Poochie opens one eye and hisses at him.
“Good girl,“ I mutter under my breath.
I stand again and Poochie rubs against my leg.
“Wow, I’ve never seen her take to anyone like this.” Brett sounds amazed.
Emma looks up at me, her gray eyes soft. “She obviously has very high standards.”
Before I know what I’m doing, I grab the clipboard. “This is a bad idea.”
It takes a little while to complete the paperwork, pay the fees and then get Poochie into the car. Every few moments, I stop and look over at the cat in question. She looks like someone’s wrinkled grandfather. I have no idea what the hell I was thinking when I started this but it’s too late to back down now.
We stop at the store so I can purchase a cat carrier, food, bowls and a collar. Emma stays in the car while I navigate the pet supply aisle on my own. After I spend more money on cat crap than I’ve spent on myself in a while, I carry the bags back to the car. It takes a minute to coax Poochie over so I can put her in the carrier but she finally gives in. Then I slide back into the passenger side seat.
Emma starts the car. “Thank you for your help today. I know that wasn’t what you were expecting when you came to see me earlier.”
“I had fun.” Shockingly, I’m telling the truth. I enjoyed the experience far more than I’d expected to. I look into the backseat. The cat carrier is made partially of mesh so I can see Poochie in there leaning against the walls of the carrier.
“I even got an attack cat out of the deal.”
A wide grin stretches across her face. “Clearly you got the best end of this bargain.” She glances over at me. “So what now? I can take you home or you could come over for a while. No one is even home.”
There’s a soft invitation in her eyes. She’s never seemed particularly open to spending this much time with me. Spending time with the cats must have softened her up a bit.
“Sure. I can come over.”
All I know is that I’m not ready to go home yet. Being around Emma brings me the most profound peace. Everything inside me seems to settle down into an uncomplicated stillness. I’m not ready to let go of that just yet.
Emma pulls up to her house and turns off the car, leaving us in silence. Lightning streaks across the sky and she jumps. “Okay, we need to get inside the house.”
“You don’t lik
e storms.”
She shakes her head. “I like them best when I’m safe, warm and dry inside.”
Emma climbs out of the car and then leans into the backseat to grab the cat carrier. She’s talking to the cat, telling her where we are and where we’re going.
I follow her up the walkway and wait while she wrestles with the door. There is a sudden boom of thunder that sounds extremely close. Then the skies open up and the rain falls in heavy sheets, the wind splattering the rain in an angry gush across the porch. Emma curses as we’re both instantly drenched.
“Finally,” Emma announces as the key slides into the lock. We stumble across the threshold in a wet heap. Our legs tangle together and I have to twist myself so that when we fall, I take the brunt of the force.
“I’m really glad I didn’t go to your place first, otherwise I would have been driving home in this!”
She pushes up from my chest but goes still when she ends up half-straddling me. There’s no way she’s missing the unmistakable press of my erection beneath her. Her gaze lifts to mine and her cheeks flush pink. But she doesn’t move.
We stay just like that, lost in each other’s eyes until another boom of thunder rends the air, breaking the spell.
I set her to the side gently and stand up. “Well, I’ve never had to go to such lengths to get a woman on top of me before.” She laughs and takes the hand I extend to her and pulls herself up.
She looks out the open door at the storm. “I thought it wasn’t supposed to rain until later tonight.”
I didn’t either but I can’t say I’m upset about the forecast. I shrug out of my wet jacket and hang it on one of the metal hooks by the door. I toe out of my soggy shoes as well.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me for a while.”
EMMA
Crap, crap, crap. What the hell am I supposed to do with Tank Marshall in my house?
After giving Tank a towel and pointing him in the direction of the bathroom, I change clothes into an ancient pair of jeans and a tank top. He still hasn’t come out yet so I flit around the living room, picking up stray items of clothing and fluffing the pillows on the couch. I glance over my shoulder nervously awaiting the moment he’ll appear.
After depositing my armful of junk in the hall closet, I race back to the kitchen. Poochie is still crouching in her carrier, watching me move around the room with her golden eyes. I unzip the carrier so she can come out when she wants to but she doesn’t seem interested in venturing any further just yet.
When I hear the telltale squeak of the bathroom door opening down the hall, I lean casually against the counter. Tank rounds the corner and I have to struggle to hold in a sigh of appreciation. He’s cuffed his pants and removed his sweater, revealing a simple white shirt. It’s tight enough to show the definition of his arms and shoulders. The muscles hinted at under his leather jacket are on full display now.
I force my eyes away from his chest and focus on the wall behind him. “Do you want some coffee or tea or something? I could put on a pot.”
He runs his hands through his hair, the dark strands standing on end. “A cup of tea is fine. As long as it’s no trouble.”
I take a mug down from the cupboard and fill it with water at the sink. I’m all too aware of Tank watching as I move around the small kitchen. His gaze sears into my back and I have to fight the urge to yank my shirt down to cover my bottom.
Just as I’m about to put the cup in the microwave, the lights flicker. We both look up at the light fixture above us. Please tell me this is not happening.
The lights flicker again and a second later we’re plunged into darkness.
“Emma?” Tank's voice comes from my left.
“I’m here. Don’t worry, this happens during every storm. The lights will come back in a second.” I put a hand out in front of me tentatively, walking forward slowly until I touch a hard surface. The counter. I place the cup of water down carefully.
I tap my foot impatiently, willing the electricity to come back. Usually when the lights go out it’s only for a few minutes. It’s strange standing here in the darkness but I’m not going to complain. The last time the power went out I was in the shower. This is a breeze compared to being in the dark while wet and naked.
A series of clicks sounds somewhere to my left before a small flame appears, floating disembodied in the dark. A moment later another flame appears, then another. Tank has obviously found the small lighter and candles I keep near the window for just this purpose.
In the light of the candles I can see him standing next to the window. He flips the small lighter closed and leans against the wall, staring out at the rain. In profile, he looks almost regal.
“This is surprisingly relaxing,” he murmurs.
“Yeah it is.” I clear my throat and looked away from the temptation that is Tank. The universe seems to be conspiring against me, determined to throw us together until I lose all resolve. Between ignoring him at the law office, and now being stranded together in the dark, part of me wants to just give in, rip my panties off and let the universe have the last laugh. But I’m not a femme fatale and seducing a man isn’t something you can study in school.
Sasha taught me to dress up to play a part. At the Black Kitty, it was all about the costume. The illusion. But I don’t want illusions and I don’t want a fantasy. No one can teach me how to be sexy in real life. I’m woefully out of my element.
“Well, I suppose I can’t offer you anything to warm you up. Unless you want a real drink.” I gesture to the row of liquor bottles lined up on a sideboard against the wall. I still have brandy and scotch. They were my father’s and the bottles haven’t been touched since he died. The thought darkens my mood. I really should get rid of those. I’m not much of a drinker but occasionally like a glass of something when I curl up reading. Or when I’ve had a hell of a day.
“Brandy would be good. Only if you join me though.” He looks at me, his dark eyes intense. “It’s not good to drink alone. So they say anyway.”
His eyes follow me as I walk to the sideboard and select a bottle. “One day I would really like to know who ‘they’ are. For people who don’t exist they seem to have a lot of influence.”
His soft chuckle rumbles through me as I pick up the bottle of brandy and stack two glasses together. I carry them over to the table and pour a small portion in each glass. In the dark the beauty of the storm is revealed, the rain and lightning putting on a private show of water and light. I take a sip of the brandy, enjoying the way it warms on my tongue.
“I haven’t done this in ages.” I sit in one of the wooden chairs by the window. “I used to love watching the rain. Whenever there was a storm my parents used to cut off all the lights and we’d all pretend we were camping out in the living room.”
He sat in the chair across from me. He leaned over and took one of my hands. “You miss them.” It was said as a statement.
“Yeah, I do.” Just that quickly, I’m back there, hiding in the closet, terrified. I look up to see Tank watching me. “They were murdered. It was a home invasion.”
His hand tightens around mine. “I’m so sorry, Emma. When you said they died …”
“Most people assume it was a car accident. I usually don’t correct the assumption. It’s just easier that way but somehow with you, I don’t know. It feels like you’d understand.” I take my hand back and tuck it in my lap.
Touching him is becoming too easy, a habit I can’t afford to adopt. But he’s watching me with eyes that seem to reflect the kind of horror that I feel inside. He has the eyes of someone who has seen terrible things and survived. Maybe that’s how I knew I could tell him. Somehow I knew he wouldn’t make me talk about it. Instead he does exactly what I need him to do. Listen and be there.
“So what about you? Did you and Finn grow up around here, too?” I take another sip of brandy feigning calm. I’m way too interested in his story.
“Yeah, we were raised in Norfolk. Mom tried her best to
do it all but she could only do so much.” He sits back and folds his hands behind his head. “I just found out I have three half-brothers, too. My dad was busy after he left us. I didn’t even know they existed until recently.”
Everything he’s saying sounds so foreign from the Maxwell Marshall that I know. How could he not have even known his brothers? Did something happen and they lost contact? It just doesn’t sound right.
“Wow. I can’t even imagine not knowing my sister.”
He coughed and kept his eyes on the storm. “It sucks but that’s life. I’m over it.” Lightning streaks across the sky again and he’s illuminated in the sudden flash of light. He looks tense despite his relaxed pose, the lines around his eyes and mouth more prominent.
I turn away and looked out at the rain. It seems unfair to watch him in such an unguarded moment, like catching him with his clothes off. Tank Marshall naked in any sense is not something I can handle right now.
I reach for the bottle of brandy on the table and pour a little more in my glass. I usually don’t drink hard liquor but under the circumstances I don’t think it would hurt to have seconds. If I’m going to be stranded in the dark with Tank, I need a little liquid courage.
I hold up the bottle and Tank nods. He holds out his glass for more. Even being careful, a little of the dark liquid splashes out onto his hand. He lifts his hand to his mouth and licks up the drops. I can’t look away, the sight of his tongue sliding over his skin igniting a million different fantasies.
“See something you like?” His brown eyes soften as he watches me, his eyes lingering on my mouth.
I flush, the heat in my cheeks going straight between my thighs. It’s bad enough to have these fantasies about him. It’s unbearable for him to know about it. A man like Tank can have any woman he wants and no doubt has plenty, probably more than one at a time. I’m a goody two shoes, former Honor Society president who had only one boyfriend until college. Not exactly a good match.