“Thanks.”
We stand there, me still on his front porch, him in his doorway, until I make a slight motion with my hand.
“Oh, shit.” He chuckles as he moves out of the doorway. “Come in. Please.”
Following him in, I smile when I see the inside of this house. Everything looks updated with fresh paint and refinished floors, but there’s still the essence of maleall around thanks to the oversized black leather sectional sofa and matching chair. They’re so large, they pretty much take up the entire space.
The room is open to the kitchen, which looks as though it’s been updated with some kind of stone counters. Marble or granite, Though I can’t be sure. “I like your place.”
“Yeah?” He smiles proudly. “I’ve been working on it.”
“By yourself?”
“Mostly.” Running a hand through his blond waves, he adds, “But there are things that just aren’t in my wheelhouse.”
“Like?”
“Electrical and plumbing. I hired people to do those things.”
“Smart. Flood and fire are two of the worst things that can happen to a home.”
Even though I was serious, he must find it hilarious because he throws his head back and laughs. I don’t hate it. Gage Golden laughing, or with any kind of smile, is magnificent.
When he stops laughing, he points to his couch. “Have a seat. I kept the pizza warm in the oven. Let me grab it.” Turning to head into the kitchen, he asks, “What would you like to drink? I’ve got beer, water, and lemon-lime soda.”
“Water, please.”
“Got it.”
I sit on the sofa and sink in, wiggling until my spine meets with the back. It’s so deep my feet are now sticking straight out in front of me. See what I mean? His sofa his huge. It’s so big there’s no room for a dining table in this space, apparently.
While I wait for him to return from the kitchen, I fiddle with the bottom of my dress—and scream.
From out of nowhere, a cat has jumped onto my lap.
“What’s wrong?” Gage shouts as he races from the kitchen.
“Y-You’ve g-got a cat?” I hate cats. Well, correction. I’m scared of cats. There’s a difference. A slight one.
“Pepper.Get down.” Gage places a hand on the feline’s body and pushes her off my lap. Kneeling in front of me, he looks up at me with worry in his eyes. “Are you okay? I should have warned you about the cat.”
Shaking my head, I reach out and touch his arm. “No. I’m sorry I panicked. Cats and me….” How do I say it? “Cat’s don’t usually like me.”
“Pepper must’ve liked you to come to you.” He smiles. “She’s finicky about who she lets pet her.”
“Really?” If that’s the case, maybe I could try again. “Her name’s Pepper?” It’s a strange name for a yellow cat.
“My mom named her Pepper Anderson.”
I laugh. “She’s got a last name?”
“Yeah.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Pepper Anderson was the name of a character in a show calledPolice Womanback in the 70s, I think. It was one of her favorite shows, and since I’m a cop….”
“Your mom named her?”
“My mom gave her to me as a housewarming gift.” He rolls his eyes. “Who gives cats as gifts?”
I laugh again. “Your mom must be funny.”
