Chapter 31
Lila Mae didn’t like the weeks that Hailey was in Amarillo for her vet tech training; it left her shorthanded in a major way, and though she’d hired staff for both Cat House Two and Cat House Three, she needed another person who simply worked at Feline Friends in general—like the controller at Three Rivers.
She immediately wanted to call Clancy and find out what she could title the job. Another voice played in her head, this one belonging to Scarlett, the first person she’d ever hired to work here at Feline Friends.
You used to have a clear vision of this place, Lila Mae, and now you’re letting everyone else dictate what you want. Scarlett had told her that yesterday, and it had been playing on a loop in Lila Mae’s head since.
She bumped over the dirt road between the Intake Center and her tiny house, and when she saw Trap’s truck parked in front of her house, his voice roared to life.
You can’t keep making changes, Lila Mae. You wanted an octagonal building before, and now it’s not good enough?
Of course, he hadn’t actually said those words, but they streamed through her head nonetheless.
Lila Mae honestly wasn’t sure what was good enough and what wasn’t. She’d let too many voices in, but she didn’t know how to get them back out. She’d seen good things at both Shiloh Ridge and Three Rivers, and suddenly everything she’d been doing at Feline Friends felt wrong.
Maybe I shouldn’t even be here, she thought. She pulled up beside Trap’s truck and looked over to it, almost in a stupor of thought. If she gave up this dream of Feline Friends and returned to Dixon’s Delights and the mansion in the suburbs outside of Baltimore, she’d have to give up Trap too.
She bucked against that very idea, dismissing it outright. She had so much competing for her attention, and Lila Mae simply wanted a quiet, restful evening to herself.
The spicy scent of Mexican food met her nose as she approached the front door, and she entered to find Trap sitting at her pull-down table, a half-eaten burrito on a plate in front of him.
She stopped and stared, not quite sure she understood the scene in front of her.
“Hey, there you are,” he said, but he didn’t sound enthusiastic and upbeat the way he usually did. He seemed a bit distant, and he didn’t get up to greet her the way he had multiple times in the past.
“You ate dinner without me?” she asked.
“I just started,” he said. “Lila Mae, it’s almost eight o’clock. I had no idea when you were coming in.”
Her eyes flew to the microwave, which had a big digital clock on the front of it. It read seven forty-seven, and shock flowed through her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t even realize it was getting dark outside.”
Trap cut off another bite of his burrito and stuck it in his mouth.
She finally committed to entering the house, and she set her bag up on the third step, which was shoulder level, and she would take it upstairs with her when she went to bed.
“I’m sorry,” she said, but the words felt hollow. She felt like she was apologizing left and right these days, and the sentiment didn’t hold any meaning.
“It’s fine.” Trap got up and danced around her, being careful to leave distance between them, as if he didn’t want to touch her. “I can heat up your chicken. Go ahead and sit down.”
Lila Mae did that, still stinging at the way Trap wouldn’t even look at her.
He stood with his back to her while her chicken heated up in the microwave, then he put it on top of her salad, and set everything on the table in front of her with the little plastic containers of condiments: one of guacamole, one of sour cream, and two ranch dressings.
He sat back down, his cowboy hat off, but his eyes focused on his food. Lila Mae had already apologized; she didn’t know how to say it in different words that would make him understand.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Don’t mention it,” Trap said.
Lila Mae swallowed down the enormity of this day, though she knew she’d have to carry it with her to bed.
He finished eating and got up. He washed his plate and put their restaurant trash in her garbage can. “I’ll take this with me.” He pulled out the bag and tied the top, then reached for his wallet, phone, and keys, which he’d balanced on the thick square arm of her couch.
Surprise bolted through her. “You’re leaving right now?”
He nodded, his mouth pressed into a thin line.
“Like I said, it’s almost eight, and I’ve got an early start tomorrow, so I can go to the Ranch Owners Meeting.
” Trap barely flicked his gaze toward her.
“So…yeah. I’ve got to get going, because I won’t be home until eight-thirty, and I want to be in bed by nine. ”
Lila Mae nodded, because Trap had an evening routine, and he rarely stayed past eight anyway.
“Okay.” She got to her feet and stepped in front of him before he could pick up her trash. “I’m sorry, Trap. It’s been a crazy day.”
“I get it,” he said. “You’re busy, and I’m busy.”
“I didn’t mean to make things harder for you or Jason,” she said.
He reached past her and plucked his cowboy hat from the hook mounted to the wall beside the door.
She wanted him to say, I know, sweetheart, or It’s all right, honey, or I understand, baby in his sugary, Texan drawl. Instead, he settled his black cowboy hat on his head and pinned her with those dark eyes full of displeasure.
“I just need to know what you want, Lila Mae,” he said.
She sighed and turned away, returning to the table and her taco salad. “I don’t know what I want.”
“You used to,” he said. “Things were humming along fine here. We were checking off projects right and left, and now it feels like you’re trying to build a completely different facility.”
“That’s not true,” Lila Mae said. “I haven’t changed that much.”
Trap chuckled darkly. “I know we’re still new, sweetheart, but it feels like you want things between us to change too.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You dismissed me today, Lila Mae,” he said. “You said, ‘You can go,’ as if I’m just your general contractor, and you have no other use for me.”
She blinked at him.
“And that’s fine. Maybe we moved into just assuming we’d see each other every day too fast. I can go back to setting up dates and taking you somewhere nice instead of just hanging out after work.”
Lila Mae’s heart raced, and she didn’t know how to tell him she was sorry about dismissing him, or coming home so late, and anything else that was bothering him. Why didn’t more words exist that meant I’m sorry?
He bent and picked up her trash, took two steps, and opened the front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the Ranch Owners Meeting,” he said. “Eleven o’clock. It’s in the conference room at the IFA.”
With that, he exited, leaving Lila Mae with a cold kernel in her chest that expanded and expanded and expanded with every breath she took.
Lila Mae pulled up to the IFA the following morning, only to find the parking lot out front packed full. “Wow, this place is popular,” she muttered to herself as she eased between the rows of parked vehicles.
She came to the end and could only turn left.
She did so, but a chain link fence stood there, and she didn’t think she could go behind the IFA, as two signs had been mounted to one of the posts, and she didn’t know what they meant.
It took her several points to turn around, and she eased back the way she’d come, catching someone as they finished loading up their bags of fertilizer and got in their truck to leave.
She took that spot and reached for her bag and her phone, noting that she was now a few minutes late. She wasn’t sure what to expect inside an Intermountain Farm Supply Store, but she bustled in through the front doors, expecting a sign that said Conference Room This Way!
She found nothing but checkout stands, the delicious scent of buttery popcorn, and a cement floor that expanded into aisle upon aisle upon aisle.
A sense of overwhelm washed over her, and Lila Mae couldn’t quite get a full breath.
“Hi, um, excuse me,” she said to the woman checking out a customer buying cat toys, a watering can, and a wrench set. What was this place?
“I think there’s a meeting here today.”
The woman frowned at her. “A meeting?”
“Never mind.” Lila Mae flashed her a smile and moved away from the cash register, taking hesitant steps further into the store. She pulled her phone out of her bag and quickly called Trap.
When he’d first told her about this meeting on the third Thursday of every month, he’d said they could go together.
She hadn’t texted or spoken to him since he’d left her house last night, and Lila Mae had coached herself that she’d moved across the country to open Feline Friends, and she could certainly make the drive to the IFA by herself.
Trap didn’t pick up, and Lila Mae headed down the main thoroughfare of the store, scanning left and right, hoping to see a hallway or portal or sign, indicating some sort of administrative area of the building.
She dialed him again when she saw a sign for restrooms, and she detoured that way, thinking perhaps there would be a set of stairs that led to the second floor and a conference room.
“Hey,” Trap said, his voice low. “Where are you at? We’ve already started.”
“I don’t know where the conference room is,” she said.
“Did you park around back?” he asked.
“Why would I have parked around back?” Lila Mae shot back at him. “No one told me to park around back.”
“I’m coming out now,” he said with a sigh, and sure enough, a moment later, he stepped into the hallway Lila Mae had just entered. He looked in her direction, and she lowered the phone, tapped to end the call, and crisply put it back in her purse.
“Sorry,” he said as he came toward her. “I thought we’d talked about where the conference room was.”
Lila Mae hated this distance between them, but she nodded. “That does sound a little familiar.”