I didn’t know.
Maybe I was afraid to disappoint yet another human being after what had happened with Abi and Rachel. Maybe I particularly didn’t want to make Parker any madder. Maybe I was just tired and afraid I smelled like rotten potatoes, even though I was pretty sure the scent was just stuck in my nose.
Finally, I sank down on the couch with an old-fashioned—it had to be five o’clock somewhere—and checked my phone.
Nothing.
I’d dozed off when the doorbell rang.
A quick glance in the peephole, and I saw ... Parker.
“Hey,” he said, shuffling on the other side of the glass door. “Thanks for our gifts.”
“You’re welcome.”
He was waiting for me to ask him in. Did I want to ask him in?
“Come on in if you’re not afraid of the smell,” I said, surprising myself.
“Smell?” He stepped into the foyer, not quite sure what to do with himself. I could see the moment the lingering scent of the potatoes hit him. “Uh, what is that?”
“Rotten potatoes.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Probably not, but I’ll tell you anyway. They were part of my campaign to convince Mitch to live somewhere that is else. Unfortunately, he found them and dragged them across the house. Karma, I guess.”
I waited for fear or disgust to mar his features, but he kept his expression neutral as he processed that information, finally shrugging with an “Okay then.”
“Want an old-fashioned?” I asked. “I already have the stuff out.”
“Sure,” he said, his shoulders relaxing.
I gestured toward the couch and went to make another drink.
When I came back, he was sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward slightly as though he needed to be ready for escape at all times.
I handed him his drink. He took a sip. “This is quite good.”
“I used the quality bourbon,” I said as I leaned back into the couch on the side opposite from him. No need for me to be uncomfortable in my own house.
But I was.
He was just so handsome, and a part of me, in spite of past protestations of feminism and independence, was so afraid I would die alone with my cat. Not only would Lucky not go for help, but I couldn’t trust her not to eat me before help arrived.
Note to self: Add cremation request to will because cat can’t be trusted to leave your body in a state suitable for visitation.
As if summoned, Lucky jumped up into my lap with a tiny chirp.
“Oh, hi, cat,” Parker said, leaning back a little.
“You’re not allergic, are you?” I asked.
“No, just never been much of a cat person before.”
I tried to get Lucky to sit in my lap, but she sashayed over to Parker’s lap instead because ... cat.
“What’s his name?”
