Page 16 of In Step

Shit. She was usually a lot more friendly, at least toward me. The thought made me frown. “Has he been giving you a hard time?” Feral most of her life since my dad banished her from the house and stopped feeding her while I was away at university, the barn had become Possum’s home and she didn’t trust easily.

I shuffled into a sit and kept my arm extended, telling her about where I was living, how beautiful her babies were and how they were doing in their new homes. As I talked, she slowly crossed the distance between us, and I finally managed a few strokes of her head and one along the worrying line of her ribs. She’d been a good ratter in her youth, but age had caught up, and I’d been feeding her daily before I left.

A door slammed somewhere in the house and Possum darted out of reach. I froze, listening for any sign my father was coming, but all was quiet. I finally blew a relieved sigh and reached my hand back between the bales, but Possum ignored it.

“You can’t stay here.” We stared at each other. “You need to come with me.” I stretched my arm and tried to squeeze further between the bales, but Possum backed away. My stomach dropped.Dammit.

Loud laughter followed by a string of obscenities made me jump. I had to get out of there and return with a better plan.

I pulled the vet bag from my coat, opened a small can of Possum’s favourite tin food, and upended it between the bales, shoving some worm and flea tablets into the middle. Her nose twitched but she didn’t move.

“Really, girl?” I sighed. “It’s Chicken Delite, your favourite.”

She mewled pitifully but stayed where she was.

“Bugger.” I stood and ripped a large hole in the bulk bag of cat biscuits I’d brought and then hid it well around the back of the bales, hoping my father wouldn’t go exploring. The rats would eat their fill, but it was the best I could do.

Then I returned to Possum, who was still eyeing the cat food from a distance. “Soon, girl,” I whispered. “I’ll come back for you soon.” More laughter floated from the house, and I gathered my rubbish to leave. “Stay out of his way,” I warned her in parting and then headed back.

I’d got as far as the carport when the back door flew open and my uncle stumbled outside. I jumped back around the corner of the house as fast as I could, my heart thundering in my chest, but he’d clearly had a few and didn’t even look my way. He lumbered to the beer fridge, grabbed a fresh slab of cans, and carried it inside, the screen door slamming shut behind him. I blew a couple of calming breaths and sprinted for my car.

* * *

Two hours later, a knock startled me from the deep sleep I’d fallen into when I returned, a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo open on my chest. I slipped my bookmark in place and scrambled off the couch, running my fingers through my messy thatch of hair. Hopefully it was Cora with another meal Martha had miraculously over-catered and I wouldn’t have to cook.

The second I opened the door, Bossy was through it, twining his slinky body around a set of bare ankles and misshapen feet that certainly didn’t belong to Cora.

“Well, hello there, kitty.” Abe crouched to pet Bossy who positively gloated at the attention and promptly flopped on his side and exposed his belly in a display of complete hussidom. The embarrassing performance provided me with a much needed few seconds to recover from the shock of finding Abe on my doorstep.

I gave my hair another hopeless tug and tried to check my instant lust at having the subject of all my fantasies currently on his knees at my feet. Epic fail.

I swallowed half the Sahara Desert and cleared my throat. “Abe?”

He looked up and smiled. “Hi.” Then he went back to loving on my cat while I ran a hand over my mouth in the hope of clearing any crusty sleep drool that might be lurking in the corners.

Jesus Christ.I’d barely talked myself down from the itch the man had put under my skin as I’d watched him dance the night before. So sexy. So beautiful. So at home in his body. So... everything I wasn’t. And so irresistible that I’d come scarily close to saying something completely stupid the night before.

The man was dangerous, like nuclear-level dangerous, at least to me. And here he was, on my doorstep, smelling fresh from the shower. And that clawing itch was back, my skin too tight on my bones, my nerves prickling with that familiar but unwelcome awareness I’d locked down for more years than I cared to think about, and I needed him gone before those shrewd, fascinating eyes saw straight through me, again.

No one knew about me. No one guessed. No one got behind my walls. And then Abe Tyler talks to me for five fucking minutes and I’m blushing and flirting and making a complete twat of myself. I had a job, a good one, and a reasonable life I was settling into, and I couldn’t afford to lose either of them, not yet.

“Does she have a name?” Abe glanced up as he continued to pet Bossy who was now rubbing his head shamelessly against Abe’s thigh, his very fucking muscular thigh.

I blinked several times to clear the image and then scrambled to remember what Abe had just said. Another fail. “Sorry?”

Abe grinned. “The cat. Does she have a name?”

“Oh, right.” I leaned against the doorjamb in an effort to not look as flustered as I was. “Bostock. Bossy. And she’s a he.”

Abe gave Bossy a final scratch, then slowly got to his feet, his gaze tracking up my sleep-rumpled clothes, lighting dozens of tiny fires under my skin along the way. No matter how you measured it, Abe was a beautiful man. And standing in worn, soft, grey sweats topped with a white T-shirt under an open black shirt, his dark waves hanging damp around his nape and that sexy scruff I itched to feel against my face, he looked nothing short of mouth-watering.

If you were into that kind of thing.

“The name fits, in case you were wondering.” I reached for Bossy before he headed for the stairs and set him back inside. “He thinks he runs the place.”

“Cats are always in charge, right?” Abe’s warm smile returned, sparking another round of fluster and dialling up the burn on my cheeks. Because seriously, could he be more fucking perfect?

“You like cats then?”

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