Before leaving, I promised to take her out to lunch with my first paycheck. She laughed and waved with one hand and tucked Ms. Shelby under her left arm …
My thoughts trail off.
“Ms. Shelby,” I blurt out.
The officer looks at me like I’m crazy.
“Her cat. Ms. Baldwin had a cat. Ms. Shelby always sleeps in her bed. Did she?—”
I can’t get the words out. Ms. Baldwin loved that cat. She would have been devastated if anything happened to her.
“Is she …”
“We’ve got the flames under control,” someone says behind me.
I spin to face a firefighter, noticing his arms folded against his body with a smoked-stained blanket covering something.
“The medics are about to take off. But we need to find something to do with this.” The firefighter removes the blanket to reveal a grey ball in the firefighter’s arms.
I gasp, my heart racing at the stillness.
The sound must jar her because Ms. Shelby’s eyes open, revealing her pair of cerulean irises.
“Ms. Shelby,” I cry, unable to stop the tears.
She meows, lifting her head in my direction, as if she also needs the connection. I take Ms. Shelby from the firefighter’s arms and hold her to my chest. She meows before laying her head against me.
The poor thing trembles and it’s not because she’s cold.
It’s as if she knows she’s lost her owner … for all intents and purposes, her mother.
“It’s okay,” I mumble, walking away from the officer and firefighter. “It’ll be okay. I promise,” I tell her although I’m not certain I can trust my own words.
CHAPTER 2
Andreas
“And when did they start hiring contestants from Miss America for receptionist positions?” I flatter Marilyn as I enter InTuition’s main office building.
The receptionist huffs and rolls her eyes although her cheeks redden. “Andreas, you’re such a flirt,” Marilyn retorts.
“Only for you, sweetie.” I stick out my arm. “And to prove it, I swung by the coffee shop you like and picked up your favorite chocolate croissant.” Just as I predicted, Marilyn’s eyes flash in interest at the bag in my hand.
“Is that coffee, too?”
“One small flat white, just for you.” I offer the to-go cup in the carton holder with the bag holding the croissant on top.
“I’ve been married for thirty years, and my husband still can’t get my coffee order right. You, on the other hand …”
“Are you saying I’m thirty years too late?” I raise an eyebrow.
She laughs. “You weren’t even born thirty years ago.”
I shrug. “If I had known what I was losing out on, I would’ve made an earlier appearance.”
Her cheeks flush red once again at my wink.
“You’re impossible,” she says before taking her first sip of her drink. Her eyes close in appreciation as she hums. “I skipped my coffee this morning because I knew you were scheduled to come in for a fitting today.”
