Page 104 of The Christmas Fix
“Hey, have you ever thought about redoing your kitchen?” Cat asked, running her fingers through his hair. She liked it messy.
“No, but I can see your wheels turning every time you’re in here.”
Cat grinned. “Guilty as charged. Don’t take offense. I do it to every room I’m in.”
“What would you do in here?”
“I’d kill this peninsula,” she said, slapping the counter she sat on. “Put in an island, a huge one, running length-wise. Bar stools. Black leathered granite. Extend the cabinets on to this wall.” She pointed.
“What? No walk-in pantry?” Noah teased.
“I’m trying to reconfigure that too-tiny-to-be-useable powder room and the space under the stairs into something workable.”
“Your brain is a wonder,” Noah said, placing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“I like your house, Noah. Your kid, too,” Cat admitted.
“I like having you in my house, around my kid.”
“I’m going to miss this,” she said, feeling a pang of sadness. “When we wrap filming next week, when I’m on the road. I’m going to miss nights like this.”
“You say that like you’re confessing some deep, dark secret,” Noah said, rubbing his thumb across her lips.
“I love my life,” Cat said. She was reminding herself as much as him. “I love the hustle and the travel and the cameras.”
“But you like this, too,” he pointed out.
She nodded. “I like you a lot, Noah. More than I’ve ever liked anyone else.” She needed him to know that.
“What’s not to like about a stick-in-the-mud city manager who tried to throw you out of town?”
“You’re a good, kind, smart, sexy, attentive, interesting man, Noah Yates. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“You’re kind of okay yourself,” Noah teased.
The doorbell rang, cutting her off before she could make him understand just how serious she was.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“If you keep frowning like that, you’re going to need to buy stock in BOTOX,” Henry said, handing her a bottle of water with a straw so she could sip without ruining her makeup. Cat slapped a demonic fake smile on her face as she scrolled through her phone as Elton the hairstylist fortified her high ponytail with enough hairspray to freeze a woolly mammoth in place.
“I’m not frowning, I’m concentrating,” she told Henry with a haughty look.
“Wrinkles,” he said, tapping her forehead between her eyebrows.
“Don’t you have some lunch to order and fetch for your evil boss or something?” Cat asked pointedly.
“Grilled chicken salad heavy on the veg and unsweetened green tea are already on order. And if you’re a good girl, there’s a tiny bowl of squash soup in it for you.”
Cat was a sucker for squash soup. “Consider my frowning finished. What else is happening?”
Henry pulled out his phone and scrolled through notes. “I took a run at your email backlog and flagged everything that needs a personal response. I proofed your next two blogs for this week and got in touch with the jeweler for those earrings everyone was asking about. She gave us a coupon code to use on the blog.”
“Nice,” Cat said, only half listening.
It was strange, this feeling of disconnect she had staring at those little red icons declaring she had four hundred new followers, thousands of new likes. They had entertained and sustained her before when shoots went long or she got a little lonely so far away from her family.
Before Merry, showing up on set to shoot had been the highlight of her day. Now, with Gannon and Paige and her parents nearby, with Noah and Sara and the Hais, she found herself looking forward to the end of the day. To washing off the makeup and grabbing a glass of wine with loved ones… and liked ones.
