Page 31 of Speak of the Devil

“You shouldn’t be offering your code to every stalker you meet.”

I’m starting to think she’s testing the same waters I am. “I judged you too quickly.”

“Can’t be sure these days. It’s best to take it slow and get to know someone first.” She tips the glass back but receives a cruel reminder when not a drop falls out. Lowering it down, she says, “I should go.”

Between her, the beer, and the full stomach, I’m getting too comfortable in her company, and my thoughts are all over the place. “I’m not a relationship guy.”What the fuck am I saying?

She had just set her feet on the decking but doesn’t get up. Instead, with an empty plate in one hand and a wineglass in the other, she says, “I know.” She stands as if nothing was said at all and walks inside the house.

Maybe she’s doing me a favor by not making it a big deal. It was stupid to say anything, so I don’t know why I did.

I trail her inside and set my plate next to hers on the counter. Appearing to start washing them, she positions herself in front of the sink and turns on the water. I turn it off. “I can clean up after us. You’re a guest.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I reply with a grin and shake my head. “I’m sure.” Staring at each other in the smaller space of the cooking area, I’m at a loss for words with her. I want to warn her to stay away from me but turn around that message and have her stay. Am I lonely?

It’s not loneliness.

It’s Cat Farin.

She has me feeling differently about being home.

“It’s been fun to catch up,” I say, still feeling like she’ll believe the bad press if I don’t confess first.

She grips the edge of the counter, leaning back against it. “Why is this so awkward, Shane?” Tilting her head, she asks, “It’s been so easy between us—to talk, to spend time together, to deal with the marriage mess. And now . . . and now it’s not. Is it because we have to get a divorce?” She crosses the space between us, invading mine with full intention. “It’s just paperwork. I’ve said it before, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not asking for anything. In return, you’ll get your freedom back.”

“I’m not free. I never will be again. You saw the paparazzi at the clerk’s office.”

With a soft laugh, she pats me on the chest. “Free from me, silly.” She turns to walk away, but I catch her by the wrist.

“With you is the freest I’ve felt in years.” Our eyes are latched, her browns to my blues. The long hair hanging over her shoulders doesn’t hide the rise and fall of her chest from heavier breaths.

She licks her lips, captivating me to watch the sexiest of gestures. She doesn’t even have to try, and I’m mesmerized by her. “Shane—” Her gaze drops to the phone on the counter, the vibration making it buzz. Her expression falls as disillusionment settles in. I’ve seen that face enough to recognize it. Pulling herwrist away, she exhales an exhaustive breath. “I have a long drive.”

“What just happened?”

“Nothing.” She walks around the counter and grabs the bottle of water she started before the wine. “Nothing at all.”

The phone buzzes again. This time, I glance down at it to find a screen full of messages. Fuck.

“You should get it. It must be important for Teri with an I to send so many texts.”

Teri was insistent that I spelled her name with an I on the end the first time we met. It became a running joke all two times we’ve hooked up. “It’s not important.”

Her eyebrows rise as if she thought I’d say something else. She grabs her keys off the coffee table, then levels me with a look. “That makes it worse.”

She starts for the door before I catch up—with her meaning and her steps. “What’s worse?”

“She was worth your time when you were sleeping with her but not after. I feel sorry for Teri with an I.”

I stop at the entrance to the hallway and lean against the wall. “I’m not chasing you, Cat.”

“Thank God.”

“I won’t apologize for how I live my life either.”

She turns back. “No one says you need to, but you should be honest with her.”

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