“Good thing that we’re not friends…” he said in a hushed and telling whisper, hoping she understood that this banter back and forth between them was everything he’d come to hope and wish for – and more. “It’d be a real shame if all this flirting led to us doing something else…”
“Like what?”
Oh yes – she was breathless and he felt his hands clench at the rush of desire in her voice. Yeah, that sweet tone had nothing to do with an injured toe.
“Playing doctor…”
“Do you want to play doctor with me, Tate? Are we taking this relationship to a new level now – with role playing?”
“We’re barely friends, remember? Who said anything about a relationship?” he chuckled knowingly. “A Podiatrist is a doctor. Can you move your toe? Is it swelling or turning colors?”
“A podiatrist, huh?” Nettie chuckled. “So much for pillow talk and flirting?”
“You’ll know,” he whispered roughly, his voice deep and full of emotion as he closed his eyes at the image that came unbidden to his mind. He could picture her dark brown locks across his pillow, imagine her sweet smile, and the way she’d close her eyes when he kissed her. “And if we ever are in bed, I’m not sure how much talking there would be… but if you want to hear all the sweet words – I’ll give it a shot.”
“Um, my toe is purplish…” she said hoarsely, ignoring his last comment.
“Broken,” he replied softly, knowing she’d drawn a line. “Tape it to your other toe. I’ve broken mine twice. If it’s the knuckle, then see a doctor. If it’s the digit, don’t bother.”
“Says Doctor Cassidy…”
“I’m not the doctor in the family. Call my sister and test her medical knowledge.”
“No – the last time I injured myself she made me strip…”
“Oh then you shoulddefinitelycall her - and I’m on my way over right now.”
“You’re making this weird.”
“Should I yell or get mad that you’re refusing to get medical attention… because you’re shy, Sticks?” he chuckled knowingly, imagining just how pink and embarrassed she probably was right now at his blatant interest.
Nettie had to know by now that despite his initial misgivings, the worry, the intense rejection deep down of anyone or anything that could take away from his focus on his career.
Nettie was there – and she wasn’t alone.
He wasn’t alone.
As Tate lay back on the couch, Mulligan immediately moved into position, his favorite spot, lying on his sternum – and purring. It wasn’t a problem now, but he was growing, and eventually, it would be a ten or twenty pound mass of sassy attitude in that spot.
A spot that would always be his kitten’s… and hers.
“So, will you come watch Mulligan for me?” he invited softly. “You could make yourself at home, stick around for a while, and sleep over… if you wanted.”
“So you decided to go from‘cute and needy’ to ‘creepy’,” she replied flatly – and that didn’t sit well with him in the slightest.
“And maybe this conversation needs to end,” he clapped back hotly, realizing she wasn’t going to budge an inch. No, something was bothering her, or it was him. And if it was him,he really didn’t want to know or hear about it. He was already frustrated about his attempts at knitting to find out why she enjoyed doing that stupid project so much - and he really needed her to feed Mulligan.
He refused to ask Gina again after last time and really didn’t want his mother coming over because then she’d start in on him – again – about how he should add some color, get out more, or meet a sweet girl.
Well, that box was already checked off; she was just being stubborn about it.
“Maybe it does…”
“Are you feeding Mulligan for me tomorrow night or not?”
“Is this how you ask a favor of me?” Nettie scoffed in disbelief and then paused before replying a terse and quiet, “Then your answer is ‘no’.”
“Whaddya mean ‘NO’?”
