Gabe wore a serious expression, but humor danced in those beautiful eyes of his. “No pets for you. Got it.”
“And this isn’t a date,” she reminded him.
“Not a date, no way,” he agreed.
“Just so we understand each other.”
“We do, Mel. We understand each other perfectly.” With a last nod, he turned and headed for the exit.
* * *
Daphne Taylor came right out to greet them when Mel and Gabe arrived at Happy Hearts Animal Sanctuary.
The daughter of the richest man in Bronco, Daphne was slim and serious, her pretty face free of makeup. She hugged Gabe, greeted Mel warmly and then gave them a tour of the farm where she made a home for a wide variety of animals in need.
Mel loved the place. She petted the horses and laughed at the antics of the baby goats.
After Daphne left them to their own devices, Gabe led Mel to a big barn not far from where he’d parked his giant four-door pickup.
“This barn is just for the cats and dogs,” he explained as he led her through the entry door.
The big, wood-sided structure had cat quarters on one side and a place for the dogs on the other, each area with its own separate outdoor enclosure attached. Daphne had helpers, mostly volunteers, who cared for the animals and supervised the dogs whenever they were taken out to play.
The cats’ yard was screened on the sides and above. It had comfy spots for basking in the sun and a series of cat runs going every which way.
And there were kittens. Lots of kittens. They had their own room in the barn. Until the kittens were weaned, their mamas lived there with them. The kitten room was filled with randomly stacked hay bales for the little ones to climb and play on.
Mel and Gabe stood at the glass wall that kept the kittens contained and watched the action on the other side. “There are so many,” she said.
“Yeah. A lot of people abandon pregnant cats. Anyone who adopts a Happy Hearts cat pays a discounted amount upfront for spaying or neutering.”
“Good.”
Beyond the glass wall, kittens jumped around on the hay bales, playing with each other, getting in little tussles, rolling off the bales and then leaping right up and climbing them again.
“You want to go in?” Gabe asked. He was standing very close, close enough that she could see the darker rims around his pale blue irises and breathe in his woods and citrus scent.
“It’s okay?”
A teenager in a Happy Hearts T-shirt lugging a giant bag of kibble paused on his way to the adult cats’ feeding area. “Just be sure to keep the door closed and the kittens inside.”
“Come on,” said Gabe. “You know you want to.” His expression seemed to hint at more than just petting kittens.
They went in and a few of the kittens came prancing right over to them. “They’re all so adorable.” She scooped up a long-haired gray one with fluffy white paws. It was already purring. “Aww. Little sweetheart...” Perching on a hay bale, she held the kitten close and buried her nose in its thick, hay-scented fur. “My cat, Bluebonnet, was gray, with big blue eyes.”
The kitten glanced up at her. This one had luminous amber eyes. Gabe dropped down on the hay bale with her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him. His thigh brushed hers, denim on denim, sending a heated little shiver racing over her skin. “It’s a cutie, that one.”
“Sure is...” But she was not getting a cat. Not now. Her life was in flux and she needed to remember that. Six months from now, she’d be starting over in Austin. If she still wanted a furry companion in January, she’d visit a shelter in Texas and adopt one then. There was never a shortage of cats needing homes.
The kitten wiggled in her arms, ready to get down. With a last kiss on its fluffy gray head, Mel let the little furball go.
More kittens ventured near. She petted them and laughed when they batted at her with their tiny paws and jumped about on the hay bale stacked behind the one where she sat with Gabe. A gray tabby fooled around at their feet, hopping into the spaces between their boots.
Yeah, okay. She really did like cats. They were cuddly and self-sufficient, the perfect pet for a professional woman. And every one of these kittens made her long to be a cat owner again. Especially now that she’d shed the cheating fiancé and his supposed allergies to cat hair. What, really, was stopping her from choosing a Happy Hearts fur baby for her own?
Gabe leaned in closer. His clean scent seduced her. “You know you’re tempted,” he whispered.
Tempted. That was exactly the right word. And not only when it came to the kittens.
But her job right now was to resist. No kitten of her own until she got to Austin. And no hot, not-so-lonesome millionaire cowboy in her bed, either. Now was her time to work hard for DJ, make plans for her new start in Texas and generally avoid anything that might in any way become an entanglement.
She met Gabe’s eyes. “Not getting a kitten,” she said patiently as they shared a long, way-too-intimate look that upped the temptation quotient by a factor of ten thousand.
“Whatever you say.” He caught a lock of her hair and casually guided it back over her shoulder. All at once, she was breathless. The man was a menace—in the best sort of way.
He put his arm around her. She let him, even though she knew she shouldn’t, that it would only encourage him.
And then she went even further and leaned her head on the hard, warm curve of his broad shoulder. “I’m really, truly not getting a—”
And right then, she saw him. The one.
A skinny little stick of a black cat with short, scruffy fur and enormous, spooky gray-green eyes. He sat very straight over by the viewing wall, his impossibly long, sparsely furred black tail wrapped around his tiny feet—and he was staring right at her.
How did she know he wasn’t a she? Not a clue from this distance. But somehow, she did know.
With her head on Gabe’s shoulder, his lean arm around her, Mel stared that wild-eyed black cat down. Neither she nor the skinny cat blinked.
Homer, she thought. For some crazy reason, that wild-looking little guy reminds me of Homer.
“Who’s Homer?” Gabe asked.
She must have said his name out loud. “He’s this old guy who lives in Rust Creek Falls. Kind of a mystery man, you might say. He’s in his seventies, at least, and probably older. He’s likeable, really, and kind, too—but also weird.”
The little black cat sat, calm and alert, his big eyes locked on Mel. She gave him a grin—and he rose on all fours and arched his bony back in a slow, luxurious stretch.
Gabe squeezed her shoulder. “Weird, how?”
The black cat came toward them in a slow saunter as Mel explained, “Homer makes moonshine. It’s very special moonshine, the kind that somehow always has people shedding their inhibitions, often along with their clothes.”
“Interesting.”
“Oh, yeah. One time, he spiked the punch at a wedding in the town park. There was a Rust Creek Falls baby boom nine months later.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Honest truth.” The black kitten reached their hay bale and sat at her feet, gazing up. The look in those strange, sweet eyes said he was hers and she was his and she might as well just go ahead and learn to live with that. She said to Gabe, “Nobody really knows where Homer actually lives. He might pop up anywhere, most likely when you’re least expecting him.”
There was no point in kidding herself one second longer. She could not resist. She patted her lap. With a single “Reow,” the little cat leapt to the hay bale, and from there to her lap. Purring now, he curled himself into a ball and closed his eyes.
She petted him in slow strokes for a minute or two. Then she lifted her head from Gabe’s shoulder and met his eyes. “I’m adopting this one.”
He didn’t even say I t
old you so, just, “Let me guess. His name is Homer.”
* * *
There were forms to fill out before she could take Homer with her. At Daphne’s special animal farm, they didn’t hand over rescue animals to just anybody. Mel paid for Homer’s neutering, which had already been taken care of. The woman who handled the paperwork said he was estimated to be eleven weeks old. The time for various vaccinations was coming up and Mel would be seeing to those.
“Pet store, right?” Gabe asked when they—and Homer, in a soft-sided cat carrier Mel had bought from Happy Hearts—got back in Gabe’s crew cab.
Mel hesitated. After all, the deal was just the visit to Daphne’s animal sanctuary, and then he would take her home.
He must have known what she was thinking. “Why not?” he coaxed. “You need to outfit the little guy. Might as well get on that.”
Really, he did have a point. “You sure you don’t mind?”
One arm draped on the steering wheel and the other stretched out along the back of her seat, he countered, “Do I look like I mind?”
* * *
Homer was not a good traveler. He yowled all the way to the pet store. Mel couldn’t bear to leave him alone in the truck, so she took him inside, propped his carrier in the baby seat of the shopping cart and wheeled him up and down the aisles with them. He didn’t make a peep as they filled the cart with every cat necessity she could think of. Apparently, he liked riding in the shopping cart a lot better than in a fancy pickup. As soon as they got on the road again, he started crying. At least it was a short drive to her place, where she went straight to the manager’s office to pay her exorbitant pet deposit.
Gabe helped her carry Homer’s gear in. They filled the litter box and set out food and water bowls and the cat bed, along with a variety of toys. Homer christened the litter box, drank some water and clawed at the large scratching post/play structure Mel hadn’t been able to resist. And then, after nibbling a few bites of kibble, he jumped right up on Mel’s bed and settled in for a nap.
Gabe said, “I’m guessing that nice cat bed you got him is not going to see a lot of action.”
She parroted what her mom had told her way back when. “It really is better for him to sleep in a cat bed while he’s little.”
The twitch at the corner of Gabe’s sexy mouth told her he was quelling a laugh. “Okay, then. Good luck with that.”
A long moment elapsed. They gazed at each other. It felt way too good, just staring at him as he stared at her. She was trying so hard not to let things go too far with him. What she needed to do was start steering him toward the door.
But honestly, he’d been amazing, taking her to Happy Hearts where she found Homer, driving her straight to the pet store, letting her take forever choosing everything Homer might possibly need. It only seemed right that she at least offer him a beer and maybe some nachos.
They ended up sitting at the little café table out on the balcony, chowing down on chips drizzled in nacho cheese sauce and sprinkled with olives and jalapeños. She was laughing at something he’d said when Amanda appeared on the balcony next door.
Gabe and Mel got up and joined her neighbor at the low wall where their balconies met. Mel introduced them.
“Amanda Jenkins,” Gabe said. “Marketing, right?”
Amanda granted him a cautious smile. No doubt she was thinking of the other day, when she’d tracked down a certain “lonesome cowboy” online for Mel. “That’s me.”
“I’ve heard good things. You did that campaign for the Association. Great work—and you also do outreach for Happy Hearts, right?”
“Clearly, I have no secrets,” Amanda said wryly. “And thank you. I like thinking my clients are satisfied.”
“They are. I can testify.”
“Gabe took me to Happy Hearts today,” Mel said. “And I tried, but failed, to come home empty-handed.”
Amanda’s smile widened at the news. “Mel. You adopted a pet?”
“Yep. A kitten.” Amanda offered a fist bump and Mel took her up on it. “Come on over and meet him.”
“I would love to, but it’s worktime. I just took five to stare at the mountains and clear out the cobwebs, you know? Gotta get back to it.”
“Come over when you finish, then?”
“Definitely.” She gave Gabe a jaunty little salute and then vanished into her apartment.
Mel stared after her, feeling simultaneously regretful and determined. Amanda’s appearance was kind of a wake-up call. Somehow, the sight of her new friend had snapped her back to hard reality. She and Gabe were not and would never be a couple.
And yet, here she was, driving out to his ranch for lunch, spending her day off with him, sitting on her balcony with him, sharing a beer. Was she giving mixed signals, or what?
Slowly, she turned to him.
Judging by the expression on his face, Gabe had a pretty good idea of what she was thinking. “Worn out my welcome, have I?”
Right at this moment, she didn’t like herself much. “I really think that we...” She thought that they what? She had no idea how to finish her own sentence. “I just don’t understand what I’m doing, you know?”
His eyes said, Yeah, you do. But he kept his mouth shut.
She tried again. “I like you, a lot. I really do. But I’ve told you over and over this...whatever it is with us, Gabe, it’s not going anywhere.”
He answered cautiously. “All right.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I get it.”
“I don’t think so. If you get it, why do you keep asking me out?”
He took several endless seconds to answer. She was starting to wonder if he ever would when he said, “Someone very important to me once told me that if you have to ask, the answer’s no.”
Huh? “Well, then why do you keep asking?”
Staring down at his boots, he raked at his spiky hair with a big hand. “Yeah. Not what I was getting at. It means that when you’ve met the right person, you just know it.”
The right person? Where did that come from? She couldn’t help blinking at him, baffled—and suspicious, too. “Gabe, we’ve known each other for a little more than a week. How can you possibly know I’m somehow the ‘right’ person?”
“Because I didn’t have to ask.”
“Ask what, exactly?”
“Mel.” His eyes were warm, full of dangerous affection. “I think you know what.”
How did he do it? He stood there before her, all tall and strong and smart and kind and generous. And handsome. Way too handsome. He could break a woman’s heart so easily, tempting her until she said yes, and then letting her down.
He probably wouldn’t mean to disappoint her. But that wouldn’t matter. She’d be wrecked all over again.
She didn’t need any more heartbreak, thank you very much.
“You’re being purposely vague,” she accused.
“And you’ve had enough for one day.” He headed for the slider and pushed it open, stepping through into her apartment and striding straight for her front door.
She trailed after him, wondering what exactly was happening, wishing he wouldn’t go, yet knowing that his leaving was exactly what she’d asked him for. “Gabe, I just don’t understand you...” Or myself, for that matter.
He grabbed his hat off the small table by the door. “I think we’re done for now. I had a good time today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Huh? Tomorrow? I don’t—”
“DJ’s as usual, probably around seven.”
“You’re not listening to me.”
“Yeah, I am. And I hear you, loud and clear.”
“Gabe, we have to stop this. You just need to stop asking and I need to say no and mean it...” By then, she was speaking to the door as it closed quietly behind him.
Chapter Fo
ur
“I think you like him. And there is nothing wrong with that.” Amanda, lying on her side across the bed, dangled a feather on a wand for Homer. The wild-eyed little cutie lay on his back, furiously batting at the feather as she lowered it teasingly and then jerked it away.
“What’s wrong is that my plan is not to like any guy. Not for at least a hundred years.”
Amanda chuckled as Homer managed to grab the feather in all four paws. He chewed at it madly, front paws clutching, back paws kicking, until she gave it another sharp tug and he lost it again. “Yeah, well. Good luck with that.”
“You said yourself he’s a heartbreaker, dating lots of women, never getting serious with any of them.”
“Maybe heartbreaker was too strong a word. Face-to-face, he comes across as a great guy. And besides, you’re not looking for anything serious anyway, are you?” Homer gave the feather one more good swipe, bounced to his feet and darted off the end of the bed. “Love your cat, Mel.”
“He’s a handful.” Mel scooped him up off the floor and nuzzled his neck. But Homer was a busy guy. He squirmed and she let him go. He leaped from her lap and went to give his scratching post some serious attention. “Back to Gabe.”
“I’m just pointing out that he seems like a great guy and it’s beyond obvious he’s gone on you. You ought to seriously consider giving the man a break.”
“I’m confused. Weren’t you the one who looked him up online and then warned me off him?”
“I just provided information. Yeah, he’s been out with a lot of girls. He’s considered local royalty. Everyone wants to date the prince, right? Especially if he’s tall and hot and very, very charming.”
“I don’t need that kind of trouble.”
In Search of the Long-Lost Maverick Page 6
