My gaze dropped to his tile floor while I contemplated what to say next. The one solution I came up with was crazy, and he probably wouldn’t go for it, but what was the harm in asking? I lifted my chest and flashed the biggest, most persuasive smile I owned.
“So . . . I have an idea,” I said. “You have pet-friendly space, but no time. I have the time, but no pet-friendly space. Let’s make a deal. I’ll take care of her while you’re gone. I mean, I’m right next door. It’d be easy for me to pop over and check in on her.”
Clay looked at me like I’d just offered to rotate his tires. “I’m sorry, what?”
“We’ll share the cat. I’ll even let you name her.”
His tone was dubious. “You want to . . . own a cat. With me.”
“Sure, why not?”
“Because I’m a stranger?”
I waved a hand, brushing off his silly statement. “No, you’re not.” I smiled widely. “I know where you live, Clay. Just think of it as joint custody. We both get something out of this arrangement. I get to own a cat, and you don’t even have to take care of it.”
He couldn’t have looked more conflicted if he’d tried. “We can’t do that. That idea is . . . crazy.” And yet, it was clear he hadn’t ruled it out. Was he actually considering it?
“Cats are easy,” I added.
His gaze shifted away from me as he thought long and hard about it. “I don’t have any stuff, like cat food, or—”
Hurried excitement crept into my voice. “I can go to the store right now. I’ll pay for everything.”
“It’s not a money thing.” He lifted a hand like he could pluck the answer out of thin air. “How would it even work?”
I tentatively placed a hand on his arm and fought the urge to squeeze the muscle that lurked beneath the damp cotton of his shirt. “I just need a key or your garage door code. I can check on other stuff for you while you’re gone too,” I said, “like I do for my parents. Water your plants, let you know how the remodel is going.”
His attention went to my fingers resting on him, and I couldn’t tell if he liked my touch or not. Part of him seemed excited by it, but a much larger part seemed guarded and uneasy. I retreated, not wanting to turn him off.
“I don’t need an update on the remodel,” he said. “I’m the one redoing the kitchen.”
Really? I stared beyond him to the box of tiles just outside the door. “By yourself?”
He straightened. “Yes. I enjoy the work, and—as I mentioned—I’m a private person. I . . .” His voice went uneven and low. He wasn’t sure he should reveal it. “This is my space. I don’t like strangers in my house.”
My heart quickened.
Had it had been hard for him to ask for my help and let me in? He’d been uncomfortable when he’d caught me in his closet.
“I’m not a stranger,” I said softly and strived for a light, playful tone. “You know where I live.”
“I do,” he said.
I licked my lips and peered up at him. “We could get to know each other better.”
When his gaze drifted back to me, my breath caught.
The desire was back in his eyes, but there was something else too. A strange kind of power. I’d thought I was luring him in, but it made me wonder if he was doing the same to me.
“Maybe we could name her Noir,” he said.
I blinked back my surprise. “Because she’s black and white?” It was a far more original name than ‘Oreo,’ which was what all the tuxedo cats that came into the clinic always seemed to be. I smiled. “Noir. I like that.”
The first few days, my focus was solely on our new cat. As I suspected, she wasn’t microchipped, and there hadn’t been any recent calls to the animal shelter in town inquiring about a missing black-and-white domestic shorthair. After Dr. Johnston gave her a clean bill of health and her vaccinations, I coaxed Noir back into her carrier and took her home.
Well . . . her home, at Clay’s place.
After we’d struck the deal of jointly owning a cat together, we’d gotten into his truck, driven to the nearby Target, and purchased enough supplies to last Noir a week. I fought him on who got to pay, but he insisted, and in the end, I gave in and let him do it.
“Can I ask a question?” I said once we were back in his truck, heading home. “Is there a specific reason you don’t like strangers in your house?”
For a moment, the only sound in the car interior was the soft ticking of his turn signal. Then his quiet voice filled the space. “No, it’s just a general thing.”
I wasn’t sure if he was going to elaborate, but he drew in a deep breath, like he was preparing for a challenge.
“Being around unfamiliar people,” he continued, “makes me uncomfortable. Honestly, sometimes it’s exhausting. I can deal with it when I’m at work or out at a job site, but then I need space afterward.” His hand tightened on the steering wheel. “Not to sound like a jerk, but most of the time I’d rather be alone.”
It was the same for me, but instead of telling him, I bit down on my bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
He took his eyes off the road for a fraction of a second so he could glance at me. “No. Don’t worry, you didn’t.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “I mean, you should. You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, and the most unexpected things come out of your mouth, but for some reason you don’t make me uncomfortable.”
Pleasure washed through me at his compliment, and I shifted in my seat, subtly leaning closer to him. “Why do you think that is?”
He considered his answer for a long moment, and then didn’t give it to me. “Do you like people?”
“Like, am I outgoing?” I shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”
“I mean, do you like being around people?”
I stared out the rain-splattered windshield and into the darkness of the night. “I like animals better, if I’m being honest. They’re less, I don’t know, complicated.”
“Yes.” He nodded.
Seduction slid into my voice. “But I like being around certain people.”
A short laugh punched from his lips. “If you’re in any way implying me, well—I’m about as complicated a person as you can get.”
“Oh, yeah?”
He nodded but didn’t explain.
The short drive ended as he swung the truck into his driveway, and as soon as we got back inside his house, we were focused on getting Noir squared away. After that, he walked me through the process of disarming his home security system, which was so advanced, I had to take notes on my phone.
And once we were done and Noir began exploring her new home, Clay rummaged around in a drawer in his study and extracted a key. He held it in his hand, and his gaze traced over the silver notches on one side. I understood his hesitation. This was a big step for him, and I wanted to do everything I could to make him feel comfortable with me—not just in his home, but as a person.