It’s been less than twenty-four hours since Cat lost her father, and her anguish leeches out of her and into the walls. The ceiling seems to sag, the patrons quiet and dour.
I check the door again to ensure her hotheaded brother isn’t plowing through it.
Cat waves her martini glass in the air. “Hey, chill. Nino…he’d never think to look here for you, smack dab in the middle of the city.”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry your pretty head about me.” I’m definitely not “fine,” but I’ve never seen Cat like this. I can’t get a read on her.
“Besides.” She leans in and opens her purse to reveal her SIG 9mm. “I brought backup.” She giggles again.
Shit. She’s way too drunk for this. “You shouldn’t be carrying that thing around. It’s not?—”
“It’s not what, Connor?” She arches a sassy brow, but sadder emotions dance in her expressive eyes as she inches closer. “You smell so good. I could literally eat you right now.” As if to prove her point, she sinks her teeth into my bicep.
I’m repulsed by how turned on I am. Seriously, my body can’t control itself for one damn night?
She’s on her ass from two martinis because she’s been up all night crying and probably hasn’t eaten since the hors d’oeuvres at the gala last night. I don’t want to take advantage of her in this state.
I want to be a friend, an ally. A lover, but also more. Someone to take care of her when she needs it.
Instead of fancy work attire, she’s dressed in a tracksuit with her hair loose around her shoulders. Grieving Cat is all kinds of raw and free. Sadness cracked her wide open, and she has nowhere to hide.
Plus, she’s been alone all day in her room with no one to comfort her. So, I understand why she’s coming on to me like this.
I’m partially responsible for the chaos in her life, though, and I’m not going to let her down anymore. I’m not going to make any more mistakes either.
Not with her. Not anymore.
The server drops off our fries, and Cat immediately starts eating them by the handful. Small relief.
“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be feeling right now, you know?” She pounds the bottom of the ketchup bottle. “When my mom died, I was just a kid. I was simply sad. I only had that one emotion to manage.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” I shrug, then decide that’s not enough. So, stupid me, I open my mouth again and say, “My mom checked out when I was a kid, so in a way I’d already lost her, but she didn’t actually die until I was in my teens.”
Cat pauses with a ketchup-dipped fry halfway to her mouth. “I thought your mom was alive?”
“Nope.”
Pursing her lips, Cat sets the fry down.
Shit.
“You said your parents,plural, love art,present tense.”
Fuck me. I forgot all about that. “We’ve established I’m a liar. Sorry about that. But Dane Ryder has two living, loving parents who adore art.”
Her expression suggests she’s considering accepting this bullshit excuse, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.
I take her hand. “I wasn’t trying to pull anything…else…over on you in that regard. It was just a story. Just…”
I trail off, frowning. I’m really not sure why I said my mother was still alive. There was no reason Dane’s mom couldn’t be dead.
Cat leans in, gazing up at me with wide, innocent eyes. “You wanted to feel your mom’s presence one more time, didn’t you?”
A lump forms in my throat, and my heart gallops in my ears.
It’s a little terrifying how much she gets me.
I swallow around that damn lump. “My mom was an alcoholic for years and died of a drug overdose. My younger sister was more of a mother to me. So…yeah. I guess I figured aslong as I was playing someone else for the night, why not give him a better backstory?”
