by Judy Duarte
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, reminding him of the hold she had on him.
He nodded, then let himself out.
When the door closed behind him, he sucked in a lungful of the night breeze like a drowning man gulping for air, then he blew out a ragged breath.
He’d better start avoiding Caitlin and Emily whenever possible. It was the only way to distance himself.
Unfortunately, that would be a lot easier to pull off if he hadn’t promised Emily she could visit “her” kittens tomorrow.
Chapter Six
Two days later, Brett sat on the sofa in Greg’s condo, watching a baseball game on TV. The Padres were up three to one at the bottom of the sixth, and if luck and talent played out, they’d soon be on their way to the playoffs.
While the fans in the new Petco Park stadium took part in the seventh inning stretch, the TV station cut to a commercial. So Brett took his own time-out to grab a bag of chips from the cupboard and pull an ice-cold Corona from the fridge.
He’d stocked up on food since moving in, picking up the basic four food groups: meat, sweets, chips and beer. Before he could make it back to the couch, the telephone rang, and he snatched the receiver. “Hello.”
“Greg Norse?” a man asked.
“No. He’s not here. Can I help you?”
“This is Sam Crandall down at the Bayside Animal Shelter. Earlier this morning, a woman brought in a stray black cat that she found in the shrubs by her house off Maplewood Drive. A scan of the microchip gave us Mr. Norse’s name and number. Looks like we’ve got his cat, Fred.”
Brett glanced at the blue, carpet-covered cat house on stilts near the dining room window, where the kittens dozed in the late-afternoon sun. He blew a sigh out of one side of his mouth.
Finding Fred was good news, since he wouldn’t have to tell Greg his beloved pet had run off or died. But what in the hell was Brett going to do with three cats when he hadn’t even wanted one?
“I…uh…” he looked at the television, at the game that determined who would go to the playoffs.
“We close in thirty minutes,” Mr. Crandall added. “And I’m sure Fred would like to spend the night at his own house.”
Yeah—until the crotchety cat came home and found two new kittens had taken over his litter box, his food dish and his toys.
Then the fur was going to fly.
Brett blew out another sigh, this one loaded with resignation. “I’ll come down there now.”
“Good. I’m sure Fred will be happy to see a familiar face.”
Brett didn’t believe that for a minute; Fred hated him. Of course, Crandall didn’t know that—yet.
He put the beer back in the fridge, took one last moment to watch the first couple of pitches, then grabbed his keys from the counter and headed to the carport.
Just as he climbed into the Explorer, he paused, remembering the shelter policy about taking animals home in a carrier. So he jogged back to the house for the cardboard box he’d been forced to buy.
He might be stuck with three cats, but he wasn’t going to get stuck paying another ten bucks.
Fifteen minutes later, Brett arrived at the shelter and carried the empty cardboard carrier inside.
The clerk at the desk looked up, and by the name on his badge, Brett realized it was the guy who’d called.
“I came to get Fred,” Brett said, as he placed the box on the counter.
“Good. I’ll have him brought out. Our veterinary technician looked him over, but you might want to take him to his own vet tomorrow. It appears as though he’s had a rough couple of days. We pulled out quite a few foxtails and gave him a flea dip. But he’s got a tender spot on his left hip, and we’re not sure what happened to his tail.”
“What’s wrong with the tail?”
“Looks like he got the tip of it caught or else something got a hold of it. But it ought to heal just fine.” Crandall smiled and crossed his arms over a couch-potato belly. “Lucky for you someone brought him in.”
Brett didn’t feel lucky. He was still thinking about how those cats were going to get along. He could buy another litter box and keep them in separate rooms, he supposed.
Crandall picked up the phone and, using an intercom system, called for number twenty-three to be brought to the front. Minutes later, a middle-age woman in uniform brought a subdued black cat through the door, taking care not to bump the wounded end of its tail.
The cat was pretty mellow.
Was it really Fred?
If a data-processing error occurred, the microchip might be wrong.
Too bad Brett hadn’t brought Emily with him to make the official ID, but when he spotted the cat’s yellow eyes, the tiny white spot on its chin, he had to believe the prodigal cat had returned.
Poor critter. He looked scared. Worn out.
For the first time since arriving at Greg’s house, Brett actually sympathized with the cat. But he still worried Fred might freak out upon recognizing him, so he shoved the box forward. “Let’s put him in here.”
“All right.” The woman carefully placed Fred in the container and closed the lid.
“I’ll need you to sign this paper,” Crandall said. “And I’ll need thirty-five dollars.”
“What’s the money for?” Brett asked.
“It’s the fee we charge for processing strays and returning them to their rightful owners.”
“That ought to be a community service.” Brett was getting tired of being hit with a fee or a charge every time he walked into this place. They seemed to be taking advantage of pet owners. Or, in his case, guilty cat-sitters.
“Sorry, sir. Just doing my job.”
Brett paid the money, and in a matter of minutes, carried pesky Fred to the Explorer.
Trouble was, he found it hard to blame the cat for any of this. After all, in less than a week, his owner had disappeared, a stranger had moved in, a hyper-active terrier with a Napoleon complex had chased him through his house, and then God only knew what had terrorized him on the streets or in the canyon.
“Rough go of it?” he asked the feline.
Fred meowed, as though trying to talk, to tell Brett all about it. To say, “Let’s get the hell out of here and go home.”
But Brett didn’t have the heart to forewarn the cat about his new roommates.
As he pulled into the complex, he spotted Caitlin returning home from work. She opened the car door, slid from the driver’s seat and flashed him a warm smile. Just looking at her, even in white nurse shoes, baggy green pants and a medical shirt, took his breath away. But he regrouped and rolled down the window. “Guess who I have.”
As she made her way toward him, he got out of the Explorer and reached for the box on the passenger seat.
“Is it Fred?” she asked, closing the gap between them until he caught the scent of a coconut-laced tropical breeze.
“One and the same.”
She grinned and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s good news. Emily is going to be happy to hear that.”
“I know. But now I have a houseful of cats.”
“Better you than me.” She grinned and tapped her nose with a finger. “The allergies, remember?”
“Yeah, I do.” And that’s why Brett was now responsible for three cats instead of one. Of course, he could have put his foot down, could have let Emily leave the animal shelter empty-handed that day. But the little blond pixie had a way of making him weak, especially when her eyes welled with tears.
“Emily has been so worried about Fred,” Caitlin said, as they walked across the lawn to their respective front doors. “In fact, she’s going to want to visit him this evening.”
Hey, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. With Emily’s help, Fred might settle in better and accept the new kittens.
Brett shifted the box in his arms. “I was planning to throw a steak on the grill tonight. Why don’t I put on a couple more, and you and Emily can join me for dinner.”
“That sounds really
nice,” she said. “But I’m afraid I’d be sniffling and sneezing before I took one bite.”
Oh, yeah. The damn allergies.
But another idea struck. “What if we eat outside on the patio? You can enter through the rear gate.”
“That’ll work.” She flashed him a smile. “Can I bring something? A tossed salad maybe?”
“Sure. Sounds good.” Of course, if they were going to get fancy, he’d better throw a couple of potatoes in the oven. And clean off the patio table. Maybe take a shower, too. “Give me about an hour, okay?”
“Sure. We’ll see you then.”
He stood on his porch and watched as she strode toward the Blackstone’s to pick up her daughter. But when she glanced over her shoulder and caught him gaping at her, he grappled with the key and let himself in.
As he closed the door and prepared to set Fred free, a wave of apprehension struck. And not just because of the cat.
For a guy who’d made up his mind to avoid his pretty neighbor, he’d sure set himself up for another rush of temptation.
But it was too late to backpedal on a dinner invitation now.
For reasons Caitlin wouldn’t contemplate, she showered, fussed a little too much with her hair and put on lipstick.
All the while, she made excuses for her behavior, like it had been a rough day at work and she and Emily didn’t get out much. But the fact was she wanted to look attractive for her neighbor.
As she stood near the kitchen sink and tossed the salad with a homemade vinaigrette dressing, Emily entered the room.
“Mommy, it’s five-five-nine. Can we please go see Fred now?”
Brett had said an hour, and it had only been about forty-five minutes. But Emily was so eager to see the runaway cat that Caitlin hated to make her wait any longer. “Sure, baby. We can go now.”
“Goodie!”
Caitlin carried the bowl in one arm and grabbed a bottle of Merlot from the cupboard with the other. “Okay, Em. You lead the way.”
Minutes later, they stood on the porch, and Emily rang the bell. By the way Caitlin’s pulse was humming, she realized she was as eager to be here as her daughter. And that wasn’t a good sign. Not if she meant to keep things between her and Brett simple and friendly.
She reminded herself that this wasn’t a date. It was a neighborly barbecue. And a way to make Fred feel better about his house-sitter and his new roommates.
Brett opened the door, wearing a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt.
He’d showered since she’d seen him in the parking lot, just as she had. And he’d applied aftershave, even though she suspected he hadn’t shaved. She kind of liked that rugged, lightly bristled look. It gave him an exciting edge that caused her senses to remain on high alert.
His eyes glimmered, and his lips curled in a smile. “Hi.”
“I hope we’re not too early, but Emily was eager to see Fred.” She handed him the bottle of Merlot. “I’m not sure if you’d like wine this evening, but I thought we could have a glass while the steaks grill.”
“Great.” He took the wine, but his gaze swept over her again, warming her blood and sending it on a zippity-do-dah course through her body.
“We’ll go around and enter through the backyard,” she told him.
“But wait.” Emily pressed forward and peered inside the door. “Where’s Fred?”
Brett bent down on one knee to address her daughter, a move that surprised her. And pleased her. “As soon as I brought him home from the shelter and let him out of the carrier, he went into Greg’s room and climbed under the bed. Why don’t you go tell him you’re here.”
“All right.” Emily dashed off to find the cat she thought of as a friend.
“How’s Fred doing?” Caitlin asked. “Is he accepting the kittens?”
“I’m not sure he even knows they’re here. He’s been hiding for the past forty-five minutes.” He clicked his tongue. “You know, the day he ran off, he’d just started to come out into the open, and now it looks as though he’s had a setback.”
“Fred really likes Emily, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to see her.”
“You know,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb in a rebellious stance, “I’ve always liked dogs and never had much use for cats, but I feel kind of sorry for Fred. It wasn’t until I picked him up at the pound that I realized what he’d gone through.”
She tossed him a playful smile. “So the staunch dog lover has had a change of heart?”
“I wouldn’t say that. I just hope the poor little guy doesn’t suffer any lasting trauma from his days on the run. I think he lost a few of his lives, along with a bit of his tail.”
“He lost a part of his tail?”
“Just the tip. I think those coyotes nearly caught him. But then, your guess is as good as mine.”
They stood there, the threshold separating them. The conversation holding them. Or was it more than that? A push/pull neither of them was ready to admit, let alone deal with.
He flashed her a heart-stopping smile, then nodded toward the kitchen. “Why don’t I meet you on the patio. I’ll put the salad in the refrigerator, open the wine and bring out two glasses.”
“Sounds good.” She handed him the bowl, then walked around to the small backyard patio.
This dinner was beginning to feel more and more like a real date, in spite of her determination to keep things platonic between them.
And that couldn’t possibly be good.
She unlatched the lock on the wrought iron gate, let herself into the small patio and took a seat in one of the plastic chairs Greg had purchased from a parking lot sale at the grocery store.
Moments later, Brett walked out the sliding door with two glasses of red wine. As he set one before her, his musky, sea-breeze scent nearly took her breath away.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He pulled out a chair and joined her at the table. “Emily is patiently trying to coax Fred out from under the bed. She’s trying to reason with him, if you can believe that. I’ve never seen a kid who loves animals like she does.”
“Neither have I. If I didn’t have an allergy to dander, I’d let her have a pet in a heartbeat.”
“And I’d let her have two kittens, too. Free. I’d even throw in a cardboard carrier and wouldn’t back charge you the two-hundred and thirty dollars I paid to get them sprung from the kitty slammer.” He slid her a teasing smile that sent her heart topsy-turvy.
What was wrong with her? She had to get a grip on her emotional response to him. So in spite of a godawful urge to stare, to consider something neither of them wanted, she decided to keep the conversation light and easy. “By the way, Gerald said he’s going to take you to the V.F.W. hall sometime soon.”
“I know. We talked about it at the luau. He thinks I’d enjoy having a beer and shooting the breeze with some of the veterans.”
“Would you?” she asked.
A grin tugged at one side of his mouth, and his blue eyes glimmered. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Gerald is a nice man. And he’s well liked in the neighborhood. Greg told me he’s a war hero and was awarded a Purple Heart, a Silver Star and several other commendations during the Korean War.”
“Interesting,” Brett said. “I didn’t realize that.”
“Gerald’s pretty tight-lipped about his military service, but one of the other veterans told Greg.”
Brett leaned back in his seat, took a slow sip of wine and eyed her over the rim of his glass. “Gerald mentioned things are going to get hairy for you in the near future, but he didn’t say why. What’s up?”
She wasn’t sure whether she should go into detail about the upcoming custody hearing. Not after learning about the nightmare he’d been through as a kid. But this fight was different. Caitlin was protecting her child, not her own selfish interests.
Besides, Brett had become a friend over the past week. And maybe she could share a bit of what she was up against.
“I’m Emily’s foster mother,” she told him.
His brow twitched at the news. “That’s…surprising. You look so much alike. And you’re so…maternal.”
“I love her as if I’d given birth to her myself. As far as I’m concerned, I am her mother. And I’ll do anything I can to protect her and keep her safe.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re one of the best mothers I’ve ever seen.”
His praise meant a lot, more than it should, and she reached for a smile. “I hope the court feels the same way. I’d love to adopt her.”
“You’ve got my vote,” he said.
“Thanks.”
A lot depended upon the judge, but the fact Brett had confidence in her, as a mother, was uplifting.
Did she dare tell him the rest? About the custody battle? About her decision to fight Zack with everything she had?
“I can’t see why the adoption wouldn’t go through,” he said. “But I’d be happy to be a character witness, if you need one.”
But would he be willing to speak on her behalf during a custody hearing?
After what he’d gone through as a child, he might not be willing to go to court and support her.
But maybe, if she explained…well, not everything. Just some of the reasons why she’d taken a stand.
She glanced across the table, caught his eye. “When I was a child, the courts found my mother negligent and placed me in foster care for most of my growing-up years. Some homes were better than others. And when I turned eighteen, I decided that as soon as I had a stable job and a home, I’d apply with the county and become a foster mother myself. I wanted to provide a child with the love I never had.”
“Emily is lucky to have been placed in your home, Caitlin.”
“Thank you, but I’m the lucky one. She’s blessed my life in more ways than you can ever imagine.”
“How long have you had her?”
“Since birth. Her mother was pregnant and an innocent victim of a drive-by shooting. She was rushed by ambulance to the hospital, where just an hour before she died, the doctors delivered Emily by an emergency caesarian section.”
“That’s too bad.”
