8
"Thanks for this," Nathan said as I got down on all fours in the living room. I was glad I was wearing jeans and not a skirt. I might have given him a much too intimate view.
Although maybe that wasn't such a concern, considering the last time he'd seen my ass I'd been stark naked.
"It's no problem at all," I said. "I just hope there's nothing wrong with Cleo."
Even as I said the words, I knew it was a problem. I had no idea what I thought I was doing. My evening with Nathan was supposed to have been a one-time thing. But now, here I was, at his place — or, his mom's place — crawling along the floor, trying to coax his cat out from underneath a china cabinet.
"I've tried dangling toys in front of her and leaving trails of treats, but nothing I do works," Nathan said. "She won't come out as long as I'm here. Maybe it's better if I stay away. I can hire someone else to feed her and change her litter box."
"I don't think you need to go that far."
I managed to convince the cat to come out with soft, cooing words and a spoonful of tuna. She poked her head out, sniffing. I didn't move, just stayed there with the spoon extended.
Cleo was an adorable thing, a multi-colored calico with huge, round eyes. Her pupils were so wide I could almost see my own reflection in the black orbs.
I'd always liked cats. They weren't as loyal or unconditionally-loving like dogs. They needed a softer touch. You needed to earn their affection.
Maybe I just liked the challenge.
"So do you think she's sick?" Nathan asked, worried.
"I don't think so. She looks healthy. She's probably just being cautious around you."
Cleo took a few more steps forward. I brought the spoon a few inches closer. She froze, then took a small paw-step forward. She lapped at the tuna with her pink tongue. When she'd finished the treat, she rubbed her forehead against my hand. I scratched her under the chin. She carefully climbed into my lap, purring loudly, and curled up against my hip, tail twitching.
"You really are a cat-whisperer," Nathan said.
He reached out to pet her. Cleo's back arched and she hissed, swiping out with her claws. He yanked his hand back.
"That cat is determined not to like me," he said, lips pursing in a sour expression.
"Give it time," I said, stroking a calming hand down her back. "I'm sure she'll warm up to you eventually."
"Hope so. It's already been weeks."
"How long do you need to take care of your mom's place, anyway?" I asked. "Is she on vacation or traveling or something?"
A pained look flashed across his face.
"No, she's…"
Trepidation filled my chest even as Cleo's soft purrs threatened to lull me into relaxing. I had a feeling whatever reason his mom had for being away wasn't good.
"You don't have to talk about it," I said. "I won't push. But if you want, I'm here to listen."
"My mom's the one I've been visiting in the hospital," he said in a rush.
A pang of sympathy hit me. "I'm so sorry."
I wanted to ask more. Was she sick, or was she injured? Had there been an accident? Or was she ill? Was it serious? How much longer was she going to have to stay?
I mostly stuck to the children's ward, but I sometimes helped out with the adult patients, too. Maybe I'd met his mother before.
But I stayed silent, letting Nathan decide how much he wanted to tell me.
"She was sick a lot when I was growing up," he said. "So I'm kind of used to being in hospitals."
