Page 39 of Falling for You

“Maybe I’ll be here next time you eat it.”

Mmm. I like the sound of that. I wonder how desperate I would sound if I said it out loud. But he’s the one who mentioned it, who brought up being here again, right?

My sleepy brain can’t compute all this. His presence is messing with my head and ability to think straight.

Stretching again, he grunts through the last of it, dropping his arms afterwards like they weigh a thousand pounds. Malcom comes lumbering into the kitchen, rubs his furry little side against his new favorite person on the planet and begins purring.

Rex picks him up and Malcom touches his nose to Rex’s before curling into him.

“Oh for real, he is so pathetic!”

“He likes me,” Rex mutters into his fur.

I don’t deny it but I also don’t agree. No need to feed his ego when it comes to my cat.

Gently placing him down on the floor, Malcom meows his displeasure up at Rex before slowly walking away, giving him an angry look over his shoulder before continuing down the hall.

“Well, he used to.”

I giggle. He really is an asshole cat. There’s no other way to describe him.

“Come on, I’ll see you to the door.”

“Thanks. I didn’t want to get lost.”

He’s not just cute. He’s funny. Sarcastic. A smart ass. And intelligent.

On his way through the living room, he grabs his phone off the end table and snags his shirt off the floor, keeping it gripped in his hand. At the door, he shoves his feet into his shoes, he opens the door, and stands at the threshold. I lean my head against the open edge of the door, tap my toe on the floor, wondering what his next step is. We didn’t have the date tonight — er, last night — like we’d originally planned. Yesterday was screwed up from the moment I walked into New You until I got home, but then he salvaged the rest of my evening. Just like he did the first night we met and I’d had the third worst day of my life — third only to when my mother passed away and the day of her funeral — and he came riding in on his noble steed, feeding me desserts and making me laugh. And the same with my water heater and him helping me get a hold of someone who could fix it on the cheap.

A gentleman.

A fixer.

Quite the white knight, isn’t he?

“Do you think I’m a charity case?” I blurt out. His lazy gaze snaps up to my face, narrowing slightly, trying to figure out wherethatjust came from.

“No,” he says like I’m ridiculous. Which, I am. Neurotic, really. But it’s not my fault because I’m still half asleep and the thoughts that roll through my head can’t be helped.

“Are you sure? Do you have some complex where you find women who need saving and you can’t leave them alone?”

“Again.No.”

I feel like my asshole cat, only I’m positive he has no remorse for his actions. I, on the other hand, truly feel awful. He’s only been nice to me and I just accused him of treating me like a charity case.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m not used to people really being there for me. And since we met, that’s what you’ve been. Kind of swooped in and saved the day on multiple occasions. I don’t understand. My friends are, sure, but they have their own lives going on, too. And you, well, you keep showing up when I need you, I mean someone.” My shoulders drop and I wince. “When I need someone,” I explain, hoping I don’t sound as if I’m rambling too much.

“Chloe?”

“Yeah?”

He reaches for my hands, fiddles with my fingertips, something that feels far more intimate than it is. “I’m here for you, helping you, because I want to be. I think you’re gorgeous, funny, and you’re entertaining as hell to me. I never feel connections to anyone and yet, I do with you.”

“So you don’t think I’m in need of rescuing?”

“No. Not in the way that you’re thinking.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” I admit.

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