You don’t want a man, Romilly. You don’t need a man.
I repeat it in my head like a mantra as I walk to the front door and gently creak it open.
He’s standing there in a wooly blue scarf and olive green jacket, shoulders shrugged against the chilly afternoon air. Bash’s silky blond hair blows around his face, making me want to run my hands through the strands. He’s not even inside yet, but his sandalwood scent invades my nostrils.
“Welcome to my cottage.” I open the door wider.
“Why, thank you.” He walks in and removes his shoes at the entryway without me even having to ask. Despite his gruffness, there’s a refined, classy vibe to him that makes me wonder what his parents are like. “Your home is beautiful, like you,” he says.
I blush. “Thank you. Make yourself comfortable. I’m about to make us sandwiches.”
“Wait a minute…I must be hallucinating. I just complimented you and you didn’t get angry at me.”
I clear my throat. “Sorry. I must need water or something.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I’m—uh—going to step outside for a moment. I desperately need to have a smoke.”
The look in his eyes makes me feel bad for him. It reminds me of the hunger I see in the eyes of the homeless at the soup kitchen. “The yard is that way.” I point, and he heads past the living room to the back door.
I uncover the sourdough loaf I baked last night. Apparently, there’s nothing more comforting than fresh bread. At least, according to my mom. And staring down at my masterpiece, I can’t help but agree.
Bash’s voice cuts through my thoughts from the living room. “Hey there, kitty,” he says.
Oh, no. Jasper is going to break him.Biting my lip to keep from laughing, I peer around the kitchen corner to the living room where Bash is now sitting on my sofa beside Jasper. A lollipop stick juts out of his mouth, and he’s holding a fidget spinner. Bash sets it down and reaches a tentative hand toward Jasper, probably expecting him to sniff it like a normal pet would.
Instead, Jasper bats at him with his paw and—claws fully extended—knocks Bash’s spinner onto the ground, sending it rolling across the room.
“So that’s how it is, huh, you little lion-cat?” Bash mutters under his breath. He gets up and retrieves the toy. He sits back down and rotates it a few times, but Jasper’s tail flicks against his arm. Bash gently pushes him away, but Jasper just swipes at Bash’s spinner, sending it flying from his hands again.
“Seriously, mate?” He glares at the cat.
A giggle bursts from my lips. “Um, Bash?”
He looks at me from the sofa. His expression is unreadable. “Yes?”
“Is Jasper bothering you? Because I can totally move him to my room.”
He gives a half-hearted glare at the cat, who is now lounging as if nothing had happened. “No, no. I think Jasper’s just plotting my demise. No need to worry.”
“Right. And ruining your smoking session?” I nod at his hands with a puzzled smile.
“Alright, then. If you must know, I’ve quit smoking, and this…thinghelps tremendously.”
“So, you didn’t go outside and smoke just now?”
He shrugs. “I meant to, but then I thought about it.” He glares at the spinner in his hand. “Better than wrecking my lungs, right?”
“Oh, absolutely.” My chest feels warm and light. Part of me wants to laugh at Bash holding a child’s toy with those strong, fighter’s hands, but there’s something annoyingly attractive about it.
The only sound in the room is Jasper’s low purr—probably gloating over the chaos he’s caused for Bash.
I put my hands on my hips. “I have to admit, your bad boy look is tarnished in my eyes now.”
“You think I’m a bad boy?” A laugh escapes him. “I guess I’m not surprised. Most people I’ve met assume the same thing.”
“No, no. You used to be one, but now I know you like fidget spinners.”
“What can I say? They really help.”
