Chapter 8
After a night of cuddles in bed together, the Maine Coon kitten seemed calmer at the library the next day. However, the minute any of the staff caught wind of their new guest, they had to visit Cali’s office, which meant a revolving door of visitors on one of the busiest days of the week.
By the time Ethan arrived for the vet appointment pickup, she was behind and torn between three competing priorities.
Consistency checks became a rabbit hole, and a simple story time event was complicated by unexpected turnout and accessibility needs.
She couldn’t even meet him at the front desk.
So, as promised, one of the staff led him back to collect the little furball.
When she finally found a moment to breathe and refresh her coffee in her office, one of her co-workers, Russell, appeared in her doorway. “Cali,” he said sternly, “you did not warn us about that man who came to pick up your new kitten.”
Cali’s mind raced with all that could have gone wrong. Had Ethan insulted someone in an effort to be cute? Had he been demanding, or worse, aloof? The staff always kept an eye out for dangerous people in public spaces. She hung her head. “Oh no. What did he say?”
“Nothing. But you failed to tell us how hot this guy was going to be. Bernadette nearly passed out on the circulation desk.”
“For crying out loud, guys.”
“Is he yours?” he asked.
Cali nearly spit her coffee back into her Purride and Purrjudice mug. “Ethan?”
“Who else? Have you been holding out on us? And here I thought we were all like family.”
“Russell, he is not my boyfriend. And I’ve got a lot of work to do still before 6 p.m. So if you don’t mind.” She waved a hand toward the door.
“Right. So the six-foot-tall Superman lookalike—whom you have no interest in —volunteers to bring your new rescue—who was putty in his hands, by the way—to the vet while you’re at work. Because. It’s. Completely. Platonic.”
“Russ!”
“Nope. Got it. Cool cool cool. I’m just trying to avoid a crisis here. Bernadette’s zhuzhing up her makeup in the unisex bathroom, anticipating his return as we speak. If she doesn’t stand a chance, I need to know now. You saw how she cried at the end of La La Land.”
Cali cleared her throat. “He’s not dropping off the cat here.”
“He’s not?”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “No, he’s dropping it off at my place.” Russell stared, gape-mouthed, at her for several moments. “Out!” she demanded.
He turned indignantly and shut the door behind him.
That conversation with Russell was all she could think about as she drove home on the winding, painted-leaf streets back to the lake.
It was all she could think about when she spotted Ethan’s truck already sitting in her driveway, him standing just outside his door, the kitten calm and out of its carrier and cuddled in his large hands.
It wasn’t fleeing at all. It was thoroughly enjoying head scratches when she rolled up and parked the car in front of them.
Ethan was wearing dark jeans and another gray Henley, as though he’d ordered them in bulk just to torment her.
“Do you have a thing for gray?” she asked him. “Or are you secretly colorblind?”
“I’ve been told it brings out my eyes,” he teased.
She pointed at the cat, which he’d yet to hand over. “Well, at least you and the cat match today. But don’t go getting any ideas. She chose me. Remember?”
“Oh, by the way,” Ethan said, stealing his gaze momentarily from the cat snuggled in his arms, “your girl is a boy.”
Cali’s mouth dropped open. She was mortified, especially after bragging in the group chat. “Well, you could’ve texted me that!” she scoffed.
“But then I’d miss your reaction,” Ethan countered. “Priceless.” He served her a smile, lips curved wide, teeth flashing, but it was the crinkle at the corners of his eyes that made the smile feel real. Ethan was handsome already, but when he smiled like that, he became positively devastating.
Ethan cuddled the nearly-asleep cat into the carrier again, passed it into her hands, and walked with her until she reached her front door.
Cali fumbled with her keys while balancing the carrier. Ethan’s hand shot out before she could protest, steadying the box as she nudged the door open. The kitten gave a pitiful mewl.
“Relax, you’re home,” Ethan murmured down at it, then glanced up at her with that infuriating half-smile. “You sure you don’t want me to help you get him inside?”
“I’ve managed fine with cats and doors for years,” she said, taking the carrier back once they stepped into the kitchen. Still, the way his presence filled the threshold made her pulse kick.
He lingered a moment longer, leaning against the doorframe, as she released the kitten from its box.
She opened a can of cat food and coaxed it over, and Ethan watched as the kitten dove into its dish like it hadn’t eaten in weeks.
She petted its back and its purr kicked into gear. Ethan’s thumb grazed his jaw.
“Lucky little guy,” he said softly and paused. “Speaking of lucky … you doing anything tonight?”
Cali narrowed her eyes, though she couldn’t stop the curve of her mouth. “You’re insufferable.”
“Maybe. But your hair is already washed and perfect. You have no more excuses. And look at him.” He pointed down at the kitten. “The little guy is so tired after that appointment, he’ll be curled up in your bed and conked out long before you get home.”
Cali crossed her arms and nervously fiddled with the button at the top of her polka dot cardigan. “What did you have in mind?” she asked.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly appearing nervous. “I wondered if you wanted to hit up the Fall Festival. I’ve never been. But if I just get back in my truck and go hang out with Catsby, I’ll miss my chance.”
Had he spoken to Leo? How did he know the Fall Festival was her catnip? Had Minka let that slip one morning?
It sounded casual. But the look on his face didn’t seem casual at all.
Ethan Cross was standing in her doorway.
Not a parking lot. Not at the library. And he was trying his damnedest not to seem too hopeful as he waited for her answer.
She was dangerously close to admitting Russell might’ve been right about Ethan’s intentions.
She sighed. “Give me ten minutes to freshen up. You wait in the truck, not in here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, saluting her as he walked back over to his truck.
She closed the door and leaned her forehead against it. Ten minutes. That was barely enough time to freshen her lipstick, let alone learn how to play with fire.