Chris: Don’t let Hank con you into giving him food. I fed him more than enough breakfast, but he’ll sit by his bowl and meow like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.
Laughing, I text him back.
Me: Okay, I won’t feed him. But I make no guarantees that he won’t get a few treats since I saw where you stash them this morning.
Chris: I hope you’ll feel very bad when I’m abandoned by my cat when he wants to come live with you when you leave…
With a wide grin, I drop my phone into the cupholder. I know this isn’t a normal relationship between an attorney and client, but I remind myself that Chris most likely feels sorry for me. Poor middle-aged woman in an unhappy relationship, facing legal trouble.
I’m probably pathetic to him, and how he’s treating me is because of sympathy and pity, not anything more. That really is the most logical explanation. And I need to remember that.
By the time I pull into the garage, while dejected, at least I have my head on straight. There’s no use in getting lost in some girlish fantasy of the hot attorney falling for me.
Not to mention, my husband was murdered less than a week ago.
Sighing, I get out of my car and head to the elevator with my few purchases. I didn’t need these candles, but they made me happy, so I bought them. Not that I really have anywhere to burn them, since I can’t imagine Chris is into candles.
As I unlock the door and step inside, I’m greeted by a distant meow. Setting my bag on the kitchen counter, I walk around it and enter the kitchen to see Hank sitting exactly where Chris said he’d be. He stares up at me with a flick of his ears.
“I’ve already been warned about your scheming. But I have something else for you.” I open the cabinet to my left and pull out a small bag. Before I can even open it, Hank leaps onto the counter with a loud meow. He sits, politely waiting for me to distribute his treats. After giving him a few, I put the bag back in the cabinet.
Holding up my hands, I show him that I no longer have the bag. “No more, Hank. I don’t want to ruin your dinner.”
I grab my laptop and take a seat on one of the barstools at the counter. Opening it as Hank comes and lies down next to it, I tell him, “I’m going to start looking for places to live, Hankie. Can I call you Hankie?”
He doesn’t answer, so I assume that means I can. I open the browser and freeze, looking at my companion. “Isn’t it sofunny this is the first time I’ve looked for my own place to live in like fourteen years?”
The sound of the front door opening pulls my attention away from my computer. Chris walks in, carrying multiple grocery bags. He’s dressed more casually than I’ve ever seen him, in worn jeans and a long-sleeve Henley. His suits fit him well and accentuate his fit body to perfection, but this outfit really shows off how muscular he is, and my body reacts immediately.
Swallowing down my desire, I force the most casual smile I can. “Hi.”
His cologne wafts around me as he passes, and I inhale deeply, committing it to memory.
“Hello. How was your day at the farmers’ market?” he asks as he sets the bags on the counter.
“It was good.” I gesture to my purchases on the counter next to me. “I got some new candles. Which I realized is stupid since I’m a squatter at this point.”
One side of his lips lifts. He reaches over and picks up each candle, taking his time sniffing each one. It’s clear which is his favorite, with the approving nod to the third one.
He sets the last one down and starts opening drawers, looking for something. As he continues his quest for his unknown item, he juts his chin at my laptop. “You doing some work?”
Shaking my head, I bury my fingers in Hank’s fur, enjoying the softness against my palm. “I probably should, but no. I was just looking at options for places to live. I didn’t get very far.”
His frown is severe when he says, “I don’t want you to do that.”
I hold my breath for a moment as my stomach flips.
“For your safety,” he rushes out.
I press my lips together, my heart stuttering, even as I remind myself that he’s just trying to keep me safe. “You’re right. That can wait.”
Another thought crosses my mind as I close my laptop. I guess I might not need a place to live if my new home turns out to be prison. I swallow down the nausea.
The click of a lighter pulls me from the dark place my mind has gone. Chris is lighting the candle that he seemed to like the best.
I huff a laugh. “Chris, you don’t have to do that.”
He gives me a mock scowl. “But I want to. So don’t take enjoying this candle away from me.”
