Lexi controls her jelly legs and makes it down to the safety of the pavement. She reaches out to Sam to steady herself, and he lets her put the palm of her hand on his chest. Instantly, that treacherous spark of something like electricity is back. She wants to lean against him with her full weight and have him hold her, let the rhythmic beating of his heart steady her. But she hates him. So she doesn’t.
‘I know it’s pathetic,’ she tells him, by way of apology, reluctantly removing her hand.
‘It’s not pathetic,’ he says, in a soft voice. ‘We all have things we’re afraid of. Fears that make us do irrational things.’
‘You’re not afraid of anything, though.’
Sam snorts. ‘I’m afraid of plenty.’
‘Like what?’
She wonders if he might be on the brink of telling her, but then Pippin resumes his meowing, as if to remind Sam and Lexi why they’re there. It’s not for a heart-to-heart about their inner lives. It’s to get his silly little self out of that silly big tree.
‘Cats,’ Sam says. ‘I’m afraid of cats.’
Lexi laughs. ‘This one’s nice,’ she tells him. ‘I promise.’
‘Okay.’
She reluctantly lets go of Sam and holds the ladder instead.
As if it were nothing, as if he were on firm ground, Sam climbs up one, two, four, eight steps.
‘Here, little kitty,’ he says tenderly. He makes the kissing cat calling noises and Pippin meows uncertainly. ‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he says. ‘I’m nice, I promise.’
Unless you own a bookshop, Lexi wants to clarify.Then he might. But it doesn’t quite seem like the right moment to bring that up.
Chapter Forty-Five
Sam’s up there for what seems like an interminably long time, both he and Lexi coaxing Pippin down. And then, finally, Pippin caves, and lets Sam pick him up. By the light of the street lamp, Lexi watches him painstakingly climb down, with one arm around her cat and one arm to steady himself on the ladder. It’s a relief when they both make it down.
‘Pippin,’ she says, taking him from Sam. ‘You silly goose. What’s with all this adventuring all of a sudden?’
He strains against her, wanting to be let down onto firm ground. Frankly, she doesn’t blame him. She puts him down and he stays put, probably enjoying the feeling of solid ground. It must be nice. It’s been a while since Lexi had that experience. He brushes against her legs, over and over, and she bends down to stroke him, reassure him.
Sam leans the ladder against the tree and exhales. ‘Anything else you need me for?’
Standing in the moonlight on this quiet Capitol Hill street, she can think of a few things she needs him for. But she swallows hard and restrains herself. He’s most likely back with his ex-girlfriend, after all. He’s decided that Lexi is playing games and he refuses to believe her when she tells him otherwise. She has no business thinking the thoughts currently running through her mind.
‘No more cats stuck up trees,’ she tells him. ‘So I think we’re good.’
‘Okay.’
‘But seriously.’ She waits for him to meet her gaze. ‘That was pretty heroic. Thank you.’
‘All part of the service,’ he says. ‘We like to provide a holistic experience at Great Expectations. If that includes rescuing pets, well... that’s what we do.’
‘Even pets belonging to rival bookstores?’
She wishes she hadn’t said that– reminded him how much they hate each other and all the reasons why. Because right here in the moonlight, with him having just rescued her grandmother’s cat, she doesn’t particularly want to hate him. Or for him to hate her.
‘We don’t discriminate,’ he says finally, after way too long a pause. ‘All cats matter.’
Lexi wants to hug him, but she’s scared to. She doesn’t trust herself.
‘I better be going, I guess,’ he says. ‘If you’re sure about theno more cats up treesthing.’
‘I’m sure,’ she says regretfully.
