Chapter 14
Cali’s phone alarm cried out at six a.m., dragging them both from sleep—her fault for forgetting to silence it on her day off.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
The blanket had slipped off between them in the middle of the night, so she curled deeper into the curve of his body to guard against the chilly morning. He brushed a kiss to her shoulder, hoping she wouldn’t notice the hard-on pressed against her hip. His body had reacted before his mind caught up.
For a moment her brain burned with the thought of rolling over and sweeping her hand along the tent in his jeans, picking up where they’d left off last night, making him climax. But his lips brushed against her ear and he whispered, “Breakfast?”
She swallowed hard. “But what about your …?”
“Coffee first. Everything else can wait until things have …settled.”
Cali relented with a smile and a stretch. “Well, I’ve got the usual. Eggs. Bagels and toast. Whatever you’d had in mind.”
“Oh, I noticed last night,” he reminded her. “You’re well stocked. Let’s go with eggs. Any style but scrambled. Too easy.”
“I’ll take an omelet then.”
“Two omelets coming right up.” He shimmied out from behind her and made his way to the kitchen, turning the lights to dim. “Oh nice. I thought I saw potatoes in there. How about some home fries, too?”
“Sounds delicious,” she said, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “But don’t you have to go into work soon?”
“It’s okay. I clocked some extra hours last week. Carl owes me. He said I could come in late today.”
She wondered when he’d had a chance to text Carl. Probably before he ever knocked on her door. Maybe, somewhere between grabbing the wine and his keys, he’d already hoped he’d be waking up beside her.
Her house soon filled with the smells of melting butter, cheese, and brewing coffee, and the pink of morning blushed the walls. Cali thoughtI could get used to thisas she watched Ethan cook. Glimmers of slow Sundays, when they would both be off work, unfolding just like today, dashed through her mind. They could fill themselves and retreat to bed and stay under the covers until they were exhausted. Laundry be damned.
Then that pesky little voice interrupted.If that was even a possibility.
Ethan pulled her from her daydream. “I noticed a broken plank on your back deck last night.”
Cali turned her gaze toward the large windows facing the lake at the base of the hill. The splintered plank looked like broken bone under tan skin. “Yeah, it’s been like that for a while,” she confessed. “I drank coffee out there in the mornings when I first moved in. But one day over the summer, I woke to that. I haven’t been out there since.
“Yeah, it’s kinda dangerous. And a shame,” he added. “I’ll size it and grab some boards before the weekend and repair it next time I’m over.”
A coy smile crossed Cali’s face. “I see. Already inviting yourself back for the weekend?”
Ethan smiled back. “If you’ll have me. I kind of like it here, with you and Max.” A warm gaze passed between them. “Breakfast’s ready. Come and get it.”
Cali wolfed down half her plate before freezing mid-bite, fork clattering against the dish.
“Something wrong?” Ethan asked.
She swallowed down a chunk of potato without chewing. “Max. Have you seen him this morning? I haven’t seen him yet.” Panic tightened in her belly. “Max! Maaaax!” she called out.
They split up without a word. Ethan rushed up the stairs to the loft and Cali ran down into the basement. After a few minutes they met again, empty-handed, on the middle floor outside the kitchen.
“Bedroom!” Cali gasped, rushing past him.
He bounded after her when they both halted in the doorway. At first it didn’t register—the open gap, the breeze—until her eyes caught on the torn mesh and her stomach dropped. Beyond her bed, the window screen hung crooked, its frame bowed outward as if something had pushed through from inside. A few claw marks scratched the sill where paws must have scrambled for leverage.
“Oh no. No,” Cali whispered to herself, “I left the windows open.”
Ethan placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Cali.”
“But it is!” Her voice trembled under the weight of guilt. The curtains swayed in a breeze that shouldn’t have existed.
