if I turn it on? You can keep the lights out in this room, but I’d like to find my way upstairs without incident.” Not to mention, shedding light might diminish the intimacy of their situation. Maybe, if she could see his usual stormy expression, she wouldn’t feel his pull so intensely.
“Knock yourself out.”
Finding her way to the kitchen in the dark was easier said than done. Nuttingwood was one of those houses that had been added onto over the years, leading to an abundance of twists and turns and unexpected corners. During the day, the eclectic layout gave the house character, but at night, in the pitch black, the layout became a pedestrian nightmare. Kelsey was certain she’d fall and break an arm too. Worse, she’d break some piece of furniture or irreplaceable family heirloom.
Eventually she reached the double-swing door leading to the kitchen, just in time to hear footsteps approach from behind.
“You’ll need a flashlight,” Alex said, giving the door a push. Kelsey followed in silence, trying not to think about how his body brushed against hers when he passed.
He moved around the dark kitchen with a grace to be admired. At least she assumed he moved with grace since she didn’t hear any of the bumps or knocks that accompanied her own clumsy movements. The basement door was to the side, behind the farmer’s table. She was walking cautiously in that direction when she heard the scraping of a chair being dragged across the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“The flashlight’s in the back of the cupboard. With my cast, I can’t reach it flatfooted.”
“Then let me.” Making her way back toward his silhouette, she took the chair from his grip. “It’s pitch black in here. Break your other arm and I’ll be here till Christmas.”
“By all means then, be my guest. We wouldn’t want that.”
Even though he couldn’t see her, Kelsey smirked in his direction and stepped up. A warm sturdy hand pressed to her back. “I’m steadying you,” Alex said from behind.
Steadying, huh? Then why did her legs feel shaky? Why did her spine feel like it had an electrical current running up and down it?
“There a problem?”
“No problem.” It was the dark, she decided. It heightened everything. Turning something innocent, like a simple touch or Alex’s low-pitched voice, into something sensual. Once the lights came on, the illusion would disappear.
All of a sudden, a pitiful wail sounded in the kitchen.
“What on earth was that?” Alex asked.
“I’m not—” The wail sounded again and recognition dawned.
“Puddin’!” She’d wondered what kind of shelter the cat had found to ride out the storm. He must have heard her drive up and was crying to come in the house. “Poor thing must be drenched to the skin.”
“Who’s Puddin’?”
Jumping down from the chair, she hurried to the back door only to have a jet-propelled streak of water rush past her legs when she opened it. Loud meows filled the kitchen. There was a click, and Alex, who’d apparently retrieved the flashlight, focused the beam on the sopping orange mass shivering under the kitchen table.
“That,” Kelsey said, “is Puddin’.”
“It’s a cat.”
An extremely sarcastic retort jumped to the tip of her tongue, but Kelsey managed to bite it off. “A very wet one at that. Would you hand me the dish towel?”
“For what?”
“To dry him off, of course. Or would you rather he drip water all over the floor?” Alex sighed, but she heard him move toward the kitchen sink. All the while keeping the light shining on Puddin’s waterlogged form.
“Poor baby, he’s trembling.” She reached out her hand, letting the scared animal sniff her fingers. “You’re okay now. I think he’s been living in your garden. He showed up on the terrace the other morning and has been keeping me company since.”
“You mean you’ve been encouraging him?”
Don’t tell her, she broke another rule. Taking the towel Alex draped over her shoulder, she gently wrapped the stray up. The cat barely protested, an indication of how wet and miserable his state was. A low rumble sounded deep in his chest. “See, he’s happier already,” she said.
“Bully for him,” Alex grumbled. “Now that he’s happy, what are you going to do?”
“I—” Good question. She hadn’t thought much further than rescuing the little guy. “Well, we can’t very well put him back outdoors,” she said.
“We can’t?”
“Look outside. It’s raining cats and dogs.”
“Then he’ll be right at home.”
“Very funny. Why can’t he stay the night in the house? He’s not causing any trouble.” She lifted Puddin’ a little closer. The cat immediately curled into her, seeking warmth and attention. “See?”
Alex flashed the light at her. “He doesn’t belong here.”
His words pushed a button inside her. How many times had she heard that same disinterested tone? “Says who?”
“Says me, the owner of the house.”
Didn’t matter. She looked at Puddin’ who was flexing his front paws, oblivious to the debate around him, and felt frustrated anger swelling in her chest. Suddenly this wasn’t about keeping a cat dry; it was about being wanted. About having someone want you. “I’m not putting him outside in this weather. He’ll catch cold.”
“He’s a cat, not a child.”
“So what? He still has feelings. Don’t you?” Looking up, she found herself staring directly into the flashlight beam. “Surely you don’t hate the world so much you’d send a defenseless animal out to drown.”
She could hear his exasperation, and while she couldn’t see his face, she could picture the irritation clouding his expression. Okay, maybe that last remark crossed the line.
“The way I feel about the world, you’re lucky I don’t make both of you sleep in the rain.”
Kelsey was pretty sure he meant what he said. She clutched Puddin’ a little tighter.
Alex turned around, taking the light with him. As she blinked the spots from her eyes, she heard the sound of a door opening and for a wild second, she wondered if he planned on carrying out his threat. That is, until she heard him heading downstairs.
“Just make sure he’s gone by morning,” he grumbled. “And if he leaves any kind of thank-you present on my doorstep, I’m holding you responsible.”
A smile tugged the corner of her lips as she savored the moment of victory. A small victory, but a victory
