“Look,” Catherine said, holding up a placating hand and scrambling through her brain to find a story that would work. “I wasn’t trying to step on your toes. I promise I wasn’t. It was sort of a fluke thing that just happened. Emily said she had some ideas. Jessica and David were both busy. And honestly? Her ideas might have been terrible. I didn’t want you to waste your time if that was the case, so I thought I’d…sort of screen them for you.” Wow. That actually sounded believable. She mentally high-fived herself.
“And were they?” Anna’s voice had tempered slightly.
“Were they what?”
“Terrible. Were her ideas terrible?”
Catherine pursed her lips and glanced out the window before telling Anna the truth. “No. They weren’t terrible. Some of them were really good.”
“And you were going to share them with me…when?” The tight voice was back again. Catherine knew she’d had this coming, but Anna’s condescending tone was starting to grind on her.
“I’ve been a little busy, Anna. Okay? I’m sorry. I don’t know what more you want me to say.”
Anna studied her for a moment, something Catherine had never liked. She felt like a specimen of some sort, like a cell under a microscope. Finally, Anna squinted at her and asked, “Why were you even at lunch with them?”
Jesus, did she know everything? Catherine made a mental note to kill Jessica later for spilling every last bean. “I was invited,” she said truthfully.
“By who?”
Whom, Catherine corrected in her head. “By Emily Breckenridge. She asked me to come.”
“Oh, really?” Anna cocked her head to the side and her expression went from righteous anger to smarmy sarcasm in the space of half a second. Another quality of hers Catherine was not fond of. The woman could turn on a dime. “You should probably be careful. Being a pushy pervert might run in the family. I’ve heard stories about her.”
Oh, you have not, Catherine almost said. But she feared that even a whiff of what looked like her defending Emily would not go over well, so she simply nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
That seemed to take the wind out of Anna’s sails and she was silent for a blessed moment. If Catherine had learned one thing in her time with Anna, it was that not engaging with her was the best course of action. Nodding and pacifying worked wonders, as it did here, thank God. After a beat, Anna stood up straight. “Fine. Email me the ideas. I’ll decide what to do about them. If anything.” With a glance at Mo, who was still watching her with guarded eyes, she left the office.
Catherine blew out a breath. “Good Lord,” she whispered. Mo must have sensed something because he padded over, put his front paws up on her chair, and laid his head on her thigh. She smiled and fingered his velvety ears. “I’m okay, pal. Thanks for looking out for me.”
God, she hated that kind of meeting. While it was true that Catherine was fairly tough and rather no-nonsense, most people were shocked to realize that she did not handle confrontation well. It made her nervous and jerky and she didn’t like feeling either. She avoided it when at all possible. With Anna, avoiding it was almost never possible. Now. Back when they’d been together, it was different. In that very short time, Anna never argued with her. Not only was there no conflict, there was barely any disagreement. At all. Ever. Anna seemed perfectly content to do whatever Catherine wanted whenever Catherine wanted to, barely expressing any opinion of her own.
That had gotten super old, super fast.
Once they’d broken up, however, Anna was suddenly full of opinions, most of which were the opposite of Catherine’s. They butted heads often now, which Catherine’s mother said was a good thing, as those true colors of Anna’s would have come out sooner or later and how exhausting—not to mention frustratingly impossible—would it have been to try to build a life with somebody like that?
The adrenaline rush caused by Anna’s appearance had overshadowed Catherine’s fatigue for a bit, but now it came flooding back. With her feet, she rolled her chair back a bit and patted her lap, encouraging Geronimo to jump up. He did and settled himself warmly there. Catherine let her head fall back against her chair and let out a long, slow breath.
She was unsure how much time passed before the gentle rap on her door made Mo jerk in her lap, which startled her into sitting upright.
Regina stood in the doorway of the office holding a vase of brightly colored flowers. “These just arrived for you,” the volunteer said, her smile wide with excitement.
Catherine furrowed her brow. Who the hell was sending her flowers and why? It only took a moment for her to surmise it was most likely Clark Breckenridge. Ugh. What was with him suddenly asking her out like he had last week? Now that he wasn’t the shelter’s liaison, did he think she was fair game?
She stood and took the flowers from Regina, who commented, “They’re beautiful, huh?”
“They are.” When it was clear she was hoping to learn who they were from, Catherine merely looked at her and arched one eyebrow.
“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Regina took her leave, albeit reluctantly. Once the door closed behind her, Catherine plucked the card off its little plastic holder and slid a finger under the envelope’s flap.
Apologies for my brother and his lack of tact. I promise it doesn’t run in the family. ~Emily
Well. That was interesting. Catherine had wondered why Emily’d suddenly gotten so rigidly awkward that day. Now she knew. Clark had embarrassed her. It was that simple. And while Catherine hadn’t really dwelled on his pass much at all, she found herself enjoying that it had bothered Emily…something she knew she shouldn’t read too deeply into.
Still…
Catherine had received flowers many times in her life. And while she thought they were a nice gesture, she also tended to think of them as a waste of money. They were damned expensive and they only lasted a few days, if you were lucky. Generally, when she got flowers, she took them out to the front desk and let the volunteers and visitors enjoy them.
This time, she did not.
Clearing the corner of her desk nearest the window, she set the vase there and turned it half a rotation a couple times until the arrangement looked just right. White daisies, pink carnations, and a couple of purple lilies made for a bright and spring-like gathering, and Catherine was surprised to feel the smile on her face. Moving to the doorway, she surveyed the placement and decided she liked them there. The card, she put in the middle drawer of her desk as she sat back down.
Returning to her previous position, she let Mo hop back up to return to his and they sat together, enjoying the colors and lovely scents of the flowers. There was work to be done, Catherine knew. But that’s not what was on her mind at that moment.
No. What was on her mind was curiosity about what Emily Breckenridge was doing right that minute.
***
About eight miles away, Emily Breckenridge sat in her office in the Breckenridge Building, gazing out the window at the light snow flurries. Noting the silence of the phones, she remembered that it was a holiday week. Three days of work, then a long weekend, which she was looking forward to. She could admit that, even though she was really, really enjoying this new job. Time off was important. To her sanity and to her sense of fun. Too much work and not enough play tended to make Emily a little bit cranky. In fact, with this early snow, it might be a good time to head up to the family’s cabin and do a little skiing. That would be fun.
I wonder if Catherine skis.
The thought materialized in her consciousness with such immediacy, Emily literally put a steadying hand to her head, fearing it would spin clean off her neck if she didn’t.
It wasn’t new, really. Catherine had been on her mind fairly often since they’d first met. Emily was drawn to her, which sounded so lame when she said it out loud. Was that even possible? To simply be drawn to somebody? To be tugged in their general direction, regardless of anything else? Anything sort of important like, does that person even like you? Because
she didn’t really get the warm fuzzies from Catherine, but she was drawn to her anyway. She was drawn to her still. Regardless.
Nobody had ever confused the crap out of her the way Catherine Gardner seemed to, and Emily was not happy about this fact. The flowers were probably a dumb idea, though they seemed like a great one at the time. Clark was being his usual, idiot self, and his pass at Catherine was so unbelievably obvious and out of line, Emily wanted to crawl in a hole when he’d actually asked her out. She wanted to apologize up and down, but she couldn’t really do that with Clark standing right there. Her brother was often a dumbass, but he was also her brother and she would never embarrass him in front of people like that. At the same time, she needed Catherine to know that his behavior was not okay with her, that she did not condone such unprofessional conduct.
Thus, the flowers.
Right?
That was why she sent the flowers, wasn’t it?
Was she obsessed? Emily sat quietly, honestly analyzing the question. It was a part of her personality to go “all in,” so to speak, when something intrigued her. She’d done it with skiing, taking lessons every chance she had for two winters straight, even though it was simply a way to make the winter go by faster. She’d done it with marketing, focusing as much of her attention as possible on her college classes and even taking more at night after she’d graduated, just to keep fresh and current with trends. Now she was doing it with her new job, reading everything she could get her hands on when it came to nonprofits and charity giving.
Was she about to do the same thing with Catherine Gardner?
Throw herself into learning everything she could about the woman? Having her brain occupied day and night by her? How freaking unhealthy would that be?
There were two very good reasons why she hoped this was not the case. First, though she threw herself into whatever she was obsessed with at the time, her awareness and intrigue inevitably waned until she lost interest almost completely. Just ask her bag of knitting needles stuffed in her closet or the dozen baking cookbooks that lined her shelf, collecting dust. And second, Emily’s mother was right, much as she hated to admit it. Catherine was not only a work colleague, but the positions they were in—Catherine’s organization depending on outside money and Emily’s being a large source of it—did not bode well for them being anything beyond colleagues, no matter how “drawn to” Catherine she may have felt. Emily’s mother would kill her and she doubted Jessica Barstow would be happy about it. No, there was way too much at stake.
A laugh burst forth from Emily’s lips at that moment, so unexpected, it surprised even her. What was she doing? What was she even thinking? Sitting here going over reasons why she and Catherine shouldn’t be together despite the fact that there had been no indications either of them were leaning that way, other than in Emily’s own head.
“I am obsessed,” she whispered aloud, then closed her eyes and shook her head.
Okay. Enough of this. No more.
She’d managed to immerse herself in learning about a local homeless shelter she was scheduled to visit next week for a solid half hour when her phone rang. Not taking her eyes from the web page she was reading, she snatched up the handset.
“Emily Breckenridge.”
“Emily. It’s Catherine Gardner over at Junebug Farms. How are you?”
The voice was so unexpected, the name was so unexpected, that Emily sat blinking for several beats.
“Emily?”
“Uh-huh. Um…” She stuttered like a nervous prom date, but finally managed to form words. “Yes. Catherine. I’m here. Hi.”
“Hi,” Catherine said on what sounded like a gentle chuckle.
Emily cleared her throat. “This is a nice surprise.”
“No, a nice surprise would be the flowers you sent me.”
Catherine’s voice was uncharacteristically warm and that made Emily feel…weird inside. A good weird. “Ah. Yes. Well.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Apologize for my brother? Yes, I did.”
“They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” This conversation was bizarre. They were acting like opposites of their true selves, and Emily was slightly freaked out by it. Catherine was being kind and inviting. Emily felt nervous and anticipatory, but in a good way, like having butterflies in your stomach just before doing something you’ve been waiting anxiously for all day.
“Is it a busy week for you?”
“Not really. You?”
“No. It’ll be pretty quiet until after Thanksgiving. Then things will pick up with adoptions for Christmas.”
“Oh, right. That makes sense. You get a lot of that?”
“Too much, really. There will be a percentage of the adoptees returned after the holidays because people didn’t think it through first.”
“People are dumb,” Emily said and was rewarded with a rich, silky laugh, smooth as milk chocolate.
“They are.”
There was a moment of quiet and then, before she could catch herself, Emily asked softly, “Hey, would you be at all interested in maybe grabbing a cup of coffee with me sometime?”
Catherine seemed to hesitate before answering.
“Or not,” Emily hastily added with a chuckle that she hoped didn’t sound as forced and uncomfortable as it felt. “It’s okay if you’d rather not. I just—”
“No, no. I’d love to. I think that would be nice.”
“Oh, good.” Emily took a moment to absorb that Catherine had actually accepted. Then, she pushed forward. No backing out now. “How about Wednesday? Are you working?”
“I am, but there won’t be a lot to do. What if I work a couple hours in the morning and then we meet up at Starbucks at, say, eleven?” Catherine’s voice had slipped slightly back toward business mode, and for some reason, that made Emily feel a little less uncomfortable.
“That sounds great. Which Starbucks?”
They settled up the details and said their good-byes. Emily sat with her hand on the receiver for long moments, replaying the conversation in her head.
She had asked Catherine to coffee. Out of the blue. And just after committing to not being obsessed with her. Just after she mentally ran down all the ways getting involved with Catherine would be a capital-B Bad Idea. Worse, she didn’t even know what she intended with the invitation. Was this a date? Or a business meeting? Emily honestly didn’t know and didn’t want to dwell on it.
Which was probably a good thing. Right? She was so confused.
What the hell had she just done?
More importantly, how long should she wait before she sent more flowers?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“WHAT THE HELL IS going on with me?” Catherine asked the question aloud to her empty office, forgetting that she’d left Geronimo home that day.
It was ten o’clock in the morning on Wednesday, and Catherine wanted to knock herself in the head with a hammer. What the hell had she been thinking? What the hell had she been thinking? Accepting Emily’s invitation to coffee. Which was essentially a date, right? I mean, seriously, how else could she be looking at it? She sent me flowers. I called her to say thank you and she invited me to coffee. Date! After all the ways in which she realized that the very woman she should never accept a date with, for so many important reasons, was Emily Breckenridge, she’d gone ahead and accepted a date with Emily Breckenridge.
Catherine’s eyes were pulled to the glass vase of flowers that sat on her desk, still colorful and spring-like, still beautiful, still able to pull a tiny smile from Catherine every time.
Every time.
She wasn’t acting like herself. At all.
A glance at the empty dog bed had her wishing Geronimo was here. At least that would keep her from talking to herself. But she knew she’d be stepping out for awhile, and to do that, she’d need to put him in one of the kennels in the dog wing. She worried that would upset him, that he’d think she was leaving him the
re, so she’d decided letting him stay home today was the better plan. She’d be home early anyway, as she had a shift at Joplin’s later, and she knew from experience that the night before Thanksgiving would be slammed.
Her attempts to occupy herself for another forty minutes were very nearly successful, as she was able to tamp down her nerves at least a little while she responded to several e-mails. But when her phone buzzed to remind her it was time to head out, the butterflies in her stomach morphed into fighter jets and churned up enough acid to remind her that she hadn’t eaten anything yet today.
No new snow had fallen in a couple days, but it was crisply cold and Catherine pulled her long coat tightly around her as she headed to her car. The parking lot was dotted with only a few vehicles, most people choosing to stay home today in preparation for the holiday weekend. Once in her car, she started the engine and let it run for a few minutes to warm up, the muscles in her shoulders aching slightly as she hunched to keep from freezing. Luckily, hers was a little powerhouse of a car with all-wheel drive and was blasting heat on her in no time.
Driving in the winter always made Catherine a little nervous, but today, she was happy to focus on that rather than the other thoughts clouding up her head. Concentrating on the road allowed her to push Emily aside, at least for a short time. She’d been in an accident as a college kid driving home for Christmas break and ever since, she’d been a little fearful behind the wheel when it was slick. But the roads were clear and she arrived at Starbucks by 10:55. Once parked, she took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. In her purse, she located a tube of lip gloss, stroked it across her lips, then rolled her eyes at herself. What am I doing? Throwing it back into the bag with more force than necessary, she headed into the coffee shop.
Emily was already seated at a table near a back window. She smiled and waved, and Catherine felt herself smiling back. Widely. Without giving herself permission. Irritation crept in, but she did her best to keep it at bay as she headed toward the table, pulling her gloves off.
Run To You (Puppy Love Romance Book 2) Page 10
