“You’re not to blame, Cami.” His voice wraps around my name, low and certain, and something inside me hitches.
I glance up and catch him watching me, then quickly flick my attention back to Mama Cat. “I should’ve gone up as soon as I heard those loud squeaks.”
“They did sound pretty eerie, though.”
His timely validation feels like a bear hug to my withering conscience.
“Besides,” he adds, his gruff tone tempered, “you’re with hernow, alongside her kittens, sitting back there like a seasoned cat whisperer.”
A snort-laugh slips past my lips. “You’re the one who was able to coax Mama Cat…”
“While you soothed her kittens.” A beat goes by. “We make a good team.”
He says it so casually as if we’ve been rescuing cats together for ages.
My stupid pulse stumbles.
Pretty sure the temperature has risen at least twenty-seven degrees back here.
Is it normal to have this kind of reaction to a man I barely know? One who’s got to bemarried. To a woman who probably wouldn’t flinch at silly attic noises.
Knox slows at a red light, the clicks of his turn signal echoing through the silence.
Steady. Calm. Like him.
He makes a left turn, and Crystal Cove Animal Clinic comes into view up ahead, glass doors lit, parking lot half-empty.
Fingers still lightly stroking Mama Cat, I lean in closer and whisper, “Hold tight, girl. We’re almost there.”
I hope it’s not too late.
Knox pulls into a spot near the entrance and throws the Range Rover into park.
Overhead lights cast a bluish glow across the dashboard, and for a second, neither of us moves.
I glance down at Mama Cat, still curled motionless in her bin.
Her chest rises in slow, shallow lifts, like each breath is stealing what little energy she has left.
Knox turns in his seat. “Ready?”
I nod even though I don’t feel ready.
Before I know it, the back door swings open, and brisk night air rushes in, cool, tinged with the scent of briny salt.
I shift to lift the bin, but Knox is already reaching for it with a careful hand.
“You take the kittens,” he says, composed. “I’ll carry her.”
He’s bossy but not in an overly aggressive way. He’s assured. Protective, in a way that sneaks past my guard.
His wife is one helluva lucky woman.
Although…there’s no ring. No family photos on the dash. No lingering scent of perfume in the car.
Edging forward, my flip-flops slap the black pavement.
I pause as a wave of dizziness sweeps through me, my vision dimming at the edges before snapping back. Probably nerves about tonight.
