I step over a heap of laundry I meant to wash earlier but got distracted by something or other. I brush my teeth, shower, drop my towel on top of the pile, and get ready for bed.
But curious to see if the cat’s gone, I check the back door.
“Meow.”
Still there. Dammit. I don’t want this responsibility, but I fill up a bowl with water and set it down. The cat immediately starts lapping it up.
Probably hungry too. I cut up some leftover waffle and before I can prevent it, she struts right in through the narrow opening. A girl for sure, she’s got that diva energy.
“Uh-uh, you can’t stay,” I tell her as she nibbles the waffle out of my hand. “I’m not good with living things. A cactus died under my watch. Do you know how hard it is to kill a cactus?”
“Meow.”
I feed her small bits of waffle and try ushering her back outside. She looks up at me with pleading eyes. But I refuse to be moved. I’ve never liked cats, even if we do share similar traits—a preference for our own company and living by our own rules.
“You need to go.”
“Meow.”She nuzzles my foot.
Stupid cat.“Fine. One night. Then off to the shelter.” I scoop her up,grab a cushion from the living room sofa, toss a blanket over it, and place it beside my bed. Girlfriend curls right up, looking way too at home.
“Don’t get comfortable. I mean it.”
“Meow.”
I side-eye her, then lie in bed, scrolling the dating app on my phone. If I’m going to be stuck in Bayside, my B.O.B.s will only hold me for so long before I start craving the real thing. I love sex. The physical part. The hot and sweaty kind. I don’t need—or want—the emotional strings. I don’t want to adjust for anybody or count on anyone either. Casual works.
Tre’s profile pops up. He’s a Morris Chestnut knockoff, but still fine. Thirty-eight, works in construction. Says he’s good with his hands and looking for fun. I’m down for both. I hit Like and discover we’re a match and that he’s already sent me a message:
Hey, sweet thing. Would love to meet for drinks.
The winky face has gotta go, but I can overlook that based on the rest of the package. Except I feel… nothing. No spark. No tingles. Instead, my mind swings right back to Dice. To how he’d caged me in at the office. He’s never done anything like that before. And oh man, was I ever tempted to finally get a taste of him. To rub my hands all over that wavy fade, suction-seal my body to his, and kiss those full, beautiful lips until we were both breathless.
When just the mere thought zings my coochie to life, I clench my thighs. How am I going to preserve my peace living in the same town with him again, working in the same place?
Only way is to limit my time at Docks, stay in the office when I’m there and work on my designs. No contact.
I shut my phone off with Tre still pending and glance over at the cat content on the makeshift bed.
Cute or not, she’s leaving tomorrow.
Chapter Three
Dice
Of course it’s her out in the middle of the road.
“Whaddup, Lex?” I ask, stepping to the counter of the Acoustic Café. “My boy still treating you right?”
“Always.” She smiles, her dark-blue eyes sparkling behind her glasses. “How are you?”
“Can’t complain.”
“Hmm.” She cocks her head. “Why don’t I believe you?”
Because I’m lying. Woke up with blue balls and in a foul mood, which pretty much sums up my life in the days since Lot’s been at Docks. I could’ve gone home with Delaney, but I made it a rule never to screw the regulars or anyone close to home. That just gets messy.
The flirty brunette from Chicago who slipped me her number would’ve been a sure thing. I wanted to—if only to shut my brain up—but didn’t. I just pocketed the napkin with a wink and a smile.
