I’d like to say dinner with Cat is short and sweet. More like short and tense.
Still dressed in the suit, I feel obligated to mind my manners. But that isn’t the source of the tension. No, it’s the way those few pieces of her dark hair remain free from her bun, the way she moves so gracefully, even doing the simplest thing like putting pepper on her potatoes, and the way her accent curls over words likeauroraandserendipity.
“Why did you leave France?” I ask, attempting polite conversation.
“At eighteen, I went to London for university and then moved here directly after.”
“Wow. You’re part of the jet set then?”
Her lashes lower. “Non.”
“Right. I suppose then you wouldn’t be working here.”
“Actually, I might. I believe in the value of hard workandprofessional education. My father was a laborer. I studied to be a school teacher, but this position was available and I couldn’t pass it up. The youngest headmistress Blancbourg has ever had.” She lifts her chin with pride.
“Your parents must be proud of you.”
Her lashes lower again and she shakes her head slightly as if she can hardly face that reality. “What about you being a famous football player and all? Your parents must think the world of you.”
“Same answer. Nope. Well, my mother would be proud. She passed away when I was born.”
“I’m so sorry.” Sincerity rains over her features.
Something tickles inside as I realize I’ve never told anyone that before, not even the guys. Sensing I’m getting sentimental, I return to the safe zone and push Cat away. “My father was a lot like you, actually. Strict, disciplined, and rather irrational.”
“Discipline has its merits,” she retorts. “But I take umbrage with irrational, and I have a distinct feeling that I am nothing like the man who raised you.”
Cat is right about that. But I have to widen the narrowing gap between us as I feelirrationallydrawn to her.
“Irrational? Yeah. You thought I put sticky notes all over your office. Why would I waste my time doing something like that?”
“Boredom? Because you’re a rascal? Or you can’t bear to do the right thing?”
“And what’s that?”
“The right thing? Be kind. Contribute. Help in some way instead of wasting resources this school hardly has.”
“My charity does plenty. In fact, since arriving in Concordia, I reached out to a local organization to aid animals—dogs in particular. I fund wolf preserves and animal rescues.” I look around and add, “It doesn’t seem like the school is hurting financially with its plethora of antiques, generous accommodations, and this gourmet food.”
Cateline’s nostrils flare and her eye twitches. “You know nothing of this place or what it means to give. Goodnight, Mr. Wolfe.” She stalks toward the door.
“It will be. I’m a deep sleeper.” I wink.
She mumbles something that sounds an awful lot likewoof.
“Sweet dreams, Kitty Cat.” And I sincerely hope she does, especially if she hate-scrolls her social media later and sees the selfie that I plan to post on @ChicksDigWolves, featuring a shot of my abs from the gym earlier. Maybe to keep things spicy, I’ll include one in my new suit. I’ll caption itMeow.
The next morning,I wake to an itch. An all-over itch. I scratch my arm and pull back quickly. Something bit me...or cut me. No, it’s the distinct burning slice from a paper cut on my pointer finger.
As I slowly lift to sitting, sticky notes cover my entire body. I peel one off and it sayswoofon it. They all do. My jaw drops.
Did Cateline prank me back?
Before I remove any more, I snap another photo of myself and post it with the commentI thought you’d enjoy last night’s selfie with my new haircut, but perhaps you’ll like this one better.I add a cat emoji and post it to@ChicksDigWolves.
With thousands of likes and comments on the post from the night before, my fans adored the cleaned-up look. Cateline didn’t slip up and accidentally like it, but I hope she’ll see this one and be pleased with herself.
However, I have no idea how she pulled this off without waking me up. Then again, I trained myself to sleep through my father’s rages. Plus, her name isCat.With how gracefully she moves, and without those high heels, she could be stealthy.
