Page 4 of Swept Away
It could be dark brown.
He’s cute as the devil, and a birthmark, or maybe a small tattoo, marks the spot beneath his left temple.
Suddenly, my heart beats faster, and I want to know more about him.
He makes himself busy with his phone, swiping the screen with languor in his moves as if he’s suddenly bored.
Or is he waiting for someone?
His eyes trailing that moving car may have suggested that.
Who is he waiting for?
And why is he sitting on those stairs?
I lift my gaze and check the house.
Most windows are dark, but a night light glows on the upper floor. That light has been there since I moved here.
I move my eyes up, but can’t see the cat.
Even if he peeks at me, he clearly has no intention of coming down.
Okay.
So, the cat ignores me.
And the man has no idea that I’m here.
The reasonable thing to do is to spin around, go back, and resume my work.
“You, men…” I mutter, fleetingly considering changing my bathrobe for something more flattering and cute before whisking that thought away with a wave of my hand and a few silent words I mostly keep to myself.
I barely reach my desk and pick up my headphones when I hear the distinct sound of something falling through the leaves and scratching at the tree.
I toss my headphones on my desk, sprint to the window, and desperately look for the kitten.
His meowing comes from down below at the bottom of the tree. I can’t see him before I finally do, and I almost have a heart attack.
“Stay there. Do not move,” I bark as the little bundle of naughtiness is about to make a run for the other side of the street while the bright lights of an oncoming car sweep the road.
I don’t have time to look at the house across the street as my heart drums like a hammer.
If anything happens to that cat, it’ll be on me. The thought makes me spin around and sprint to the door, not even caring to run a brush through my hair.
There’s no time for that, I’m thinking to myself, yanking the door open, sprinting down the hallway, taking the stairs down, and exiting the building like a mad woman.
No matter how fast I move, it still feels like forever to reach the street.
To make things worse, I run into a wall of light, the car traveling past me fleetingly blinding me.
My heart hits my chest wall in a fit of panic as I think the worst.
Good grief. Why are cats so stubborn?
I don’t even have the time to jump in front of the car and warn the driver that a cat might be in the middle of the road, when the vehicle zooms by, probably faster than it should, and I clamp a hand over my face in despair, waiting to see what has come of my little friend.
A long sigh leaves my chest when all is over, and the street is silent and dim again, and I see no casualties.
