This was bad.
So very, very bad.
It took a few minutes, but she managed to slip out of bed without waking him. A few more minutes and she managed to get dressed—in yesterday’s clothes, no less—not bothering with a shower or makeup. That could wait. For the moment, the only thing she wanted to do was get as far away from this man as possible. He was dangerous to her heart, and the last thing either of them needed was for her to go and fall in love with him.
Because she didn’t want to fail as a cat mom, she poured a little bit of kibble in Harry’s and Hermione’s bowls, patting them on the head as she headed for the door. She backtracked to grab her cell phone and keys. She could practically see the judgment in Harry’s eyes as he sat on the couch arm, watching her. Yes, she was sneaking out of her own house. She had no choice.
“Be good,” she whispered. “And don’t fight with the Roomba today.”
With that, she slipped out the door.
Thankfully, Simon hadn’t parked behind her. If he had, she would’ve been screwed. That or forced to walk three miles into town. She wasn’t completely opposed to it, but she preferred not to.
Ten minutes later, she was letting herself into her store, grateful no one wanted to stop and chat. It was still early, butBatter & Bliss was open already, as they were every morning. It was Saturday, so there would be a larger swarm than usual at the bakery since Ramona Weber made her famous cronuts—part croissant, part donut. They were so popular that she’d resorted to only making them one day a week to manage demand.
Once inside the bookstore, Violet breathed a sigh of relief.
Yeah, maybe she looked like a lunatic by sneaking out of her own house, but hey, it beat the alternative. Another round with Simon would likely seal the deal, but she wasn’t ready for that. The last thing she wanted was to pine for a man who, thanks to the curse, would probably be two hundred miles away by noon.
•••••
Simon opened his eyes to find anenormous cat staring back at him from its perch on Violet’s pillow.
“Hello,” he said softly. “Are you Harry or Hermione?”
The cat meowed back at him.
Since he didn’t speak feline, he would have to rely on Violet to help him out.
Violet.
Fuck.
Memories from last night rushed through his gray matter, flooding his system with adrenaline. His cock was instantly rock hard, just as it had been through most of the night. Considering how many times he’d come last night, he was surprised the damn thing wasn’t broken.
He peered around, listening for sounds coming from another room. Was she in the shower? The kitchen? Was she thinking about last night the way he was? About how easy it’d beenbetween them. There’d been no first-time hesitance. Not that he’d noticed anyway. Had she noticed that, too?
Figuring there was only one way to find out, Simon sat up, dropping his legs over the side of the bed. He sat still for a moment, not sure what he was waiting for.
The cat moved closer, rubbing against his bare back, its purr so strong he could feel the vibrations.
“Let’s just hope your mom feels the same about me this mornin’,” he muttered as he reached down to grab his boxers. He pulled them on and headed for the bathroom.
Violet wasn’t there, so he detoured to the toilet to relieve himself. Not an easy feat since his damn cock was fucking hard. Afterward, he took a moment to splash his face with water, rinse his mouth with the mouthwash sitting on the counter, and tame his hair with water.
A few minutes later, he went in search of her.
Not in the kitchen.
Or the laundry room.
No Violet in the living room or the second bedroom, which she was clearly using as an office/library. As he turned, his gaze snagged on two canvas paintings mounted on the wall. He stopped to admire them. The one on the left was of Walker Park—the sign a dead giveaway—and the one on the right was of Harry and Hermione. He leaned in to see if he could decipher the signature.
“Violet Anderson. Aren’t you just full of surprises,” he whispered. Not only was she an entrepreneur, a sassy conversationalist, a very fine dinner companion, and a wild cat in the bedroom, but she was also an artist.
As if he could’ve liked her any more than he already did.
Returning to his quest to find her, he left the bedroom and checked the second bathroom just to be sure before returning to the living room.
