Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 18063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 90(@200wpm)___ 72(@250wpm)___ 60(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 90(@200wpm)___ 72(@250wpm)___ 60(@300wpm)
The juices that came out of the burger were my favorite part.
5
My apartment was… clean. It was also sparse. When he picked up my cat, which Hannah had given me—a little black kitten she’d named Beelzebub, shortened to Bubs now—he tucked him against his chest like the cat was in danger.
“He’s fine, you know.”
The way his eyes darted around made me defensive again.
“You don’t hafta hold him like you’re in fear for his life.”
“I have a spare box and cat litter at my house,” he told me. “Just grab his food and his toys and let’s go.”
“Why do you have cat litter and a box if you have dogs?”
“Because you never know when you’ll be out and pick up a stray. I keep cans of dog and cat food in my car as well. Doesn’t everyone?”
“No,” I assured him. “And I think Hannah got him some toys, but they’re still in the bag.”
“Of course they are,” he replied, sounding placating. “Get the food, then, and clothes for you, of course. I have a toothbrush and other things, but any personal items, perhaps your moisturizer or––”
“My what?”
He looked stunned. “Sunblock, anything? I mean, you go all over the world to save people and don’t take care of your skin when you’re home?”
“Listen, I’m not a––”
“God, do you need me,” he muttered, crossing the floor, heading for my bedroom.
I could tell when he reached it because he said, “Are you kidding?” really loud. “You must be really good in bed to have people not care what this room looks like,” he called to me.
“You’re awfully judgmental for a person who wants to go to bed with me,” I yelled back.
“Yes,” he agreed, leaning out to look at me. “I want you in my bed, not yours. I’d need a shot of penicillin before I got into that.”
“I’ll have you know those sheets are clean.”
He nodded quickly, like I was a crazy person, and ducked back out of sight. “Where is your dresser?” he asked after another minute.
Since there wasn’t one, everything was hung up except my underwear, which was in a basket on the floor of the closet. I went in, ordered him out, along with my cat—still being carried by Kurt and who was purring so loudly he sounded like an outboard motor on a speedboat—and packed enough clothes for two days of doing nothing. Because even though he was being awfully judgmental at the moment, all I wanted to do was stay with him. Just… stay.
“Won’t your dogs eat my cat?” I asked as I followed him back out the front door of my apartment, bag and kitten food in hand.
“My dogs don’t eat cats, only intruders and snarky special ops snipers.”
“Oh, so funny,” I mocked him, which only made him laugh.
* * *
So his house in Elk Grove Village, which I hadn’t been able to make out from the street, was stunning. The grounds were lovely—he had his own mini-forest going on in the front yard—and the back opened out into a preserve. The quiet of it, the lanterns he had hanging in the backyard, the table and chairs on the deck, and no fence, only trees and bushes creating a natural barrier, was amazing. The inside was even better.
His dogs were beautiful. Two gorgeous Dobermans that greeted him, checked me over, asked for pats, and then gave all their attention to Bubs. For his part, my kitten attached himself to his dog Jeri’s face. When the huge dog lifted his head and the kitten hung on and then crawled up his muzzle to his head and perched there, Kurt said that yeah, this was good.
He set up my kitten’s litter box in an out-of-the-way spot in the laundry room, put his food across the kitchen from where the dogs ate, and then led me to his bedroom. Once there, he had me take a seat on the end of his bed, helped me off with my shirt and jacket, and wrapped my shoulder in plastic wrap to keep my bandage dry in the shower. He had one of those that didn’t need a door because the entry was so long, and there were four different streams of water, so all the places that were bruised and hurting could get some hot water on them. I stayed in much longer than I should have, but he didn’t come in and rush me, so I figured it was fine.
Once I was out, I heard him talking to someone and followed the sound back out to the kitchen, where he had his cell tucked next to his ear with a raised shoulder as he made tea. Between the reassuring tone and his repeated promises that I was fine, I knew it was Hannah.
“Is she okay?” I asked when he was done, placing his iPhone down on the counter.