Page 26 of Love Fast

I’m a fucking idiot and I need to get a grip.

I take the steps down from her porch and head back to my cabin. It doesn’t feel good, but walking away is the right thing. It was just a kiss and it will all be forgotten in a few days. I need to keep my focus on my business—the stakes are too high to get distracted.

As I’m climbing the steps to my porch, the door to her cabin opens.

I freeze as she comes out.

“Frank was my boss,” she says. “And he had all the money and power, and I know we just shared a couple of conversations and an almost-kiss. It’s not like we’re getting married or even… having sex.” Her voice skyrockets on the last word. “I just can’t get into that. I can’t have someone be the boss of me like that again. I need to stand on my own two feet and not be so dependent on someone else for… everything.”

My insides curl up, hating that she felt so out of control and dependent on someone else. It’s exactly how I felt when my dad died and I discovered we didn’t own the farm anymore. That the loans were all being called in and we faced eviction. And even then we were left with the grief over a man who should have been a better father and husband. I ranawayfrom Star Falls. She rantoStar Falls. But we both ran looking for the same thing—control over our own destiny.

She doesn’t talk about Frank badly. There’s nothing to suggest he abused his power. But it doesn’t mean it didn’t impact their relationship. I’ve never thought about the effect my money and power have on relationships. Partly because I’ve never been serious about anyone. I’m so thankful she told me—that she didn’t just walk away leaving me with a thousand questions.

“I get it,” I say. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more open with you.”

“We’ve known each other five minutes. It’s completely understandable why you might not want strangers to know.”

I’ve told her more than most, and I want to tell her more. What is it about this woman?

“Thank you for understanding. But I’m still sorry that it hurt you.”

We stand, looking at each other from our respective porches.

And then the cat jumps onto the porch railings in front of her, ruining the moment. Again.

Fucking cat.

“Looks like you got the pet you always wanted,” I say.

She laughs, stroking the cat along its back. “It’s like she’s adopted me. I have a day off on Saturday. If she’s still around, I’ll take her into town and see if anyone’s missing a cat.”

“There’s a vet practice on Main Street. You can see if she’s microchipped.”

“Good idea,” she says.

“I’m full of them,” I say.

“I’m going to go to bed now before…” She pulls in a breath. “Before… before things get complicated.”

She turns and leaves, and I have to use all my willpower not to ask her to stay.

TWELVE

Rosey

I take my morning coffee to the porch, breathing in the crisp Colorado air. I need to pick up some more clothes today, and I also need to take the cat into the vet. I’d walk if it was just me, but given my new feline friend, I’ve ordered a cab.

I glance over at Byron’s cabin. I haven’t seen him since our conversation on the steps. His truck is gone by the time I wake up in the morning, and I’m in bed every night when I hear him pull up. It doesn’t mean I’ve done anything but think about him every moment since. More than once I’ve managed to convince myself that the connection we seem to share is worth pursuing. Then I remember he’s my boss, the owner of the Colorado Club—and I remember why I need to keep away from him. It’s a frustrating cycle of hope and disappointment.

I need to shake it off. Reboot. Move forward.

I need to get on with my day off. I have a cat to take care of. Part of me is hoping the vet will have details about an owner missing this kitty. Next week, I’ll be moving into staff housing, where pets are strictly prohibited. Another part of me hopes I get to keep her for a few more days.

“Come on. You need to get into your pet carrier so I can take you to the vet,” I say, like she can really understand me. “Please, Fluffball.” I’ve been trying out different names. She certainly looks like a fluffball. But I’m not sure the name suits her. She’s more Athena than Titania.

She looks at me and then sits down exactly where she is and begins to lick her front paw. It’s like she’s telling me to fuck all the way off. I can’t blame her. I’m asking her to step into a plastic prison. She has no idea whether she’ll ever get out. Why would she willingly do that? I’ll figure it out once I’ve had my coffee.

A couple of sips into my drink, Fluffball/Snowy/Athena stops licking, looks at me, and saunters off in the direction of the cat carrier. I’m half expecting her to strike a match and burn the thing to the ground, but instead, she sniffs around the entrance and then heads inside, curling up into a ball as if it’s her favorite place in the world.

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