Why is the cat on his side?
“Stop that.” I point at my brother, then the cat. “I’mnotstalking her. I was just making sure she got home safely.”
They continue staring at me.
“You don’t know anything.”
“Of course I don’t.” Sarcasm drips from my brother’s tone. “It’s not like I married my stalker.”
I blink at him.
“That doesn’t mean I found a stalker, too,” I huff. “She didn’t even follow me.”
That sounded much more convincing in my head.
He arches a brow. “You sure?”
I stand there for a moment, then hurry to the living room and jerk the curtain back. I scan the street, but don’t see anything.
“Well?”
My shoulders relax. “See. Nothing.”
Sebastian’s footsteps stop behind me. “You’re in trouble.”
I turn and glare at him. “I’m not in trouble. She’s not stalking me.”
Mr. Pickles lets out a soft, unimpressed meow.
I look between them. “You’re both being ridiculous.”
“You’re the one arguing with me… and a cat.”
I huff, then cross the room to the patio door, hesitating only a moment before I flick on the light.
No redhead is standing on the deck.
I breathe out a sigh of relief. “See? She’s not here.”
Why do I sound disappointed?
Sebastian and Mr. Pickles exchange a look.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
I huff out an annoyed breath.
“I seem to remember someone telling me my situation wasn’t normal.”
I glare. “That’s because it wasn't.” I point at the deck outside. “Ivy literally climbed over it and made you coffee.”
He smiles. “I remember.”
“Stop smiling. That’s abnormal.”
“Interesting.”
“And stop saying interesting.”
