Movement catches my attention, and I look to see the cat batting at the window I’ve cracked open for fresh air.
“No. Hey!”
I jump up. My lease doesn’t allow pets, and the landlord is just waiting for a reason to evict me. She shouldn’t even be near the windows, in case someone sees her.
I reach to nudge her aside, but she hisses at me, all snaggleteeth and enraged wonky eyes, fur on end. She bats at the window again and it nudges open a crack.
“Stop that,” I shoo her. “You can’t be near the window.”
She pushes the window open an inch more, and without thinking I grab her and pick her up.
Big mistake.
The cat makes a noise straight out of the underworld and the claws come out. She swipes those razor blades across the back of my hand and I drop her on the floor. She takes off, a streak of dark fur, and hides beneath the table again.
CHAPTER 11
TATE
Jordan strollsinto my office the next morning carrying two to-go coffee cups, wearing that thin jacket that isn’t warm enough even for our mild Vancouver winter.
And it definitely isn’t warm enough for the arena.
“Good morning. Look at you.” I give her the pleasant smile that irritates her, and her jaw twitches. “On time.”
“I’m early.” They’re probably the first words she’s said this morning, judging by the rasp to her voice.
I wonder what Jordan looks like when she wakes up. Does she sleep on her stomach, face buried in the pillows, or on her back, arms and legs sprawled across the bed?
What does she sleep in? A t-shirt and underwear? Naked?
An unwelcome pang of arousal hits me in the groin, and I glance at the clock. It’s six twenty-eight. “Early is on time.”
She glowers. “I’m sorry we don’t all go to bed at sevenpm.”
My smile hitches higher but my gaze strays to the dark circles under her eyes. Does she have problems sleeping, too?
Or maybe she’s still working at the bar.
“Two coffees.” I raise my eyebrows at her. “That’s a lot of caffeine. But whatever gets you out of bed and at the arena for pretend o’clock.”
“Oh, they’re not both for me.” She slides the coffee toward me, a sparkle in her eye. “One’s for you.”
“Really.” Something isn’t right.
“Yep.” The corner of her pretty mouth is turned up. “I thought we could start fresh today. I’m sorry I called you annoying yesterday.”
No, she isn’t. What’s she up to?
“That’s kind of you,” I tell her, trying not to smile as something playful and interested jumps around in my chest. “But unfortunately I don’t drink coffee.”
She holds my eyes, challenge rising in hers. “It’s matcha.”
“Matcha, huh?” I pick up the cup, studying it. Her name is scribbled on the side in marker.
“Mhm.” She watches me, careful and curious. Waiting.
I take a tentative sip and use every ounce of control not to react.
