“Cat, you made it!” Roxy exclaims, rushing forward to greet me. She’s one of about twenty people bustling around the gym to prepare for tonight’s festivities.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” I answer, stepping forward and holding out my arms as Roxy seizes me.
She hugs as enthusiastically as she does everything else, sunshiny, bubbly, her warmth radiating straight into me. The Wa-she-shu beauty has long, thick, ebony braids, golden-tan skin, and dancing black eyes endlessly sparkling with mirth.
“How are you?” she asks affectionately, pulling back enough to look me in the face without letting go.
“I’m good. And you?”
“So busy. How about we decorate while we talk?”
I nod, following her towards a table she’s taping hearts and cupids to.
Where do I even start after the day I had?
Roxy eyes me. “What’s got you looking like the cat who swallowed the canary?”
We went to school together from elementary through high school, which means she can read me like an open book.
“This day… It was wild! I went home for lunch, but then Dumpling got out when I opened the door.Again.”
“Oh no!”
“Yeah, only this time, the neighbor’s dog started barking. Dumpling bolted, climbed the old pine, and I tried to follow … Let’s just say Gran ended up calling the fire department.”
She chuckles, eyes rounding. “Seriously?”
“Yep. Fortunately, they sent out Ambrose Dutch, you know the?—”
“Ambrose Dutch? No! That guy is so …” Her eyes dart around the room, looking for her husband, Hawk. “So adorable. Oh my goodness, and he’s also the sweetest, most generous guy. If you knew how much he donated to the rescue.”
“Seriously?” All I can think of is Dumpling sprawled on his hard, angular chest, and my insistent, though illogical, need to take her spot. Add “envying my diabetic cat” to today’s list of humiliations.
She nods emphatically. “When he first showed up in town a month ago, we were running low on food and various supplies. Without hesitation, he bought everything we neededout of pocket.” Roxy swings her glossy, raven-hued braids from side to side.
My cheeks burn, and I bite down even harder on my bottom lip to suppress the goofy smile that demands claim over my face.
“You should bid on him,” she urges.
I snort. “No way. I’ll donate money and time to the rescue all day long. But bidding on human beings? Not my thing.”
“But he’s gorgeous!”
Too gorgeous for me.The kind of man women write fan mail to. And yet, when his text buzzed my phone earlier, I loved the adrenaline rush of knowingit wasonly for me.
Hawk saunters up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and planting a kiss on her cheek. “You talking about me again, Wife?” he flirts, his onyx eyes radiating affection.
“Of course,” Roxy agrees with a guilty smile.
“Hmm … With all the small-town bachelors about to line up on the auction block, I’ve got to watch you,” he teases. Roxy may be the town flirt, but Hawk’s her world.
She shoos him off to hang more decorations, and I ruminate on what’s missing from my life. Warm words, kisses heavy with promise, strong arms. Loneliness aches through me.
I tell myself it’s just the decorations, the smell of sugar, the crowd noise. But it’s him.Only him.
Roxy says, “So, back to Ambrose …”
“That’s really about it.” I straighten the pink stack of hearts before grabbing another one to tape to the paper tablecloth. “Oh, and he did offer to look for Dumpling, feed her, and give her insulin because I had to return to work.”
