I look for any sign of a note or indication of where she ran off to, but there’s nothing, even as I listen closely, hoping to hear her moving around downstairs. The only thing to be heard is the sound of the kitten wreaking havoc.
I had every intention of giving Pork back to Peaches. I truly did. Then I stared into his green eyes just a little too long, and he nuzzled up to me just a little too closely, and I knew—he was mine.
I check the clock to see it’s after seven, and I’m shocked that Tootsie isn’t down there causing a ruckus too. I’d better get moving before she comes looking for me.
Muscles I forgot about ache as I crawl from the warmth of my bed and head for the shower. The idea of washing the smell of Odette off me sounds terrible, but I need to go into the town for a few things, and I don’t need to go there reeking of sex.
Odette.
Everything about last night was unexpected, that’s for damn sure. I was sitting up in bed reading when I heard a car on the gravel. I looked out, and all I could see were dimly lit headlights, but I knew. I knew it was her.
She turned off her car, and I stepped back out of view, just watching her for a while. I didn’t expect to see her again, not after I left her in the hallway and hid in the basement until she left the cidery, but there she was.
So I made my way downstairs and let her know I was up. Let her know she was welcome inside. It took a while, but eventually she came to me like I’d hoped, and the rest ... well, the rest was easily the best night of my life.
It was also easily the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, but I can’t seem to want to take it back.
I can’t. Not when I feel like I do. It reminds me of that high I used to get while playing hockey. I’ve missed that feeling, and last night was the closest I’ve come to it in quite some time.
I want it again.
I shake it from my mind before it consumes me and make quick work of getting ready, not bothering with coffee at home today before heading out.
With Pork sitting in the passenger seat, I drive down to the cidery to check on the chickens and am surprised to find they’ve already been fed.
“What the ...” I stare at the food in the feeder, knowing full well I didn’t do that last night before going home.
Maybe it was Ezra, but I don’t see his fancy sports car anywhere, and Stick Taps doesn’t open until noon today.
Was it Odette?
That thought makes me smile. I can picture her out here trying to feed the chickens in her dinosaur pajamas, all to let me sleep in later.
And that’s how I stay the entire drive into town—smiling like a damn loon.
I wipe it from my face as soon as I park my truck along the street near the library, and Mr. Taylor looks at me like I’ve suddenly sprouted elf ears or something.
The last thing I need is everyone talking about how chipper I look. That will lead to nothing but questions from everyone, and I don’t have any answers.
I grab Pork, not wanting to leave the little guy in the truck alone, and head toward the diner.
I don’t come here very often because I usually just grab something at the coffee shop or Sunnie’s, but I’m fucking famished this morning.
Laughter hits my ears as soon as I walk inside. It’s loud, and I instantly remember why I hardly ever come here.
But I’m willing to suffer, especially if it means I can get a fat stack of pancakes drenched in syrup. And bacon. A fuck load of bacon.
“Hey, just you today?” a server asks. I nod, and they point at a booth. “Take that one. I know they’re loud, but they should be gone soon.”
I inwardly groan but scoot into the booth anyway. I’m too hungry to argue for a better table.
Pork shuffles around in the pocket I’ve stuffed him in, poking his little head out the top.
“What’s up, buddy?” I say to him. “Loud, huh? Just settle back in there. We’ll go home soon.”
I flip through the menu even though I know exactly what I want. When the server still hasn’t stopped by, I look out the window and count the number of people who walk past. Anything to distract me from the table—or should I saytables—next to me. They’re laughing raucously, like they’re the only people in here.
“That’s a cat!” one of them screeches. “Oh my gosh, Lucille, look! A cat!”
