Page 11 of Keystrokes and Kittens

It also fucking terrified me because being in his company for more than, like, ten seconds had me on edge. Even as exhausted as I was, things felt like they were careening out of control. Only maybe that was logical. I was never clearheaded when it came to Soren. When I’d first spotted him, at Noah and Christian’s wedding, I’d been a goner. When I discovered, quite by accident, that he was gay, I’d felt…hopeful.

Flirting with Noah had been easy. Whether because we were both Black or because Noah felt safe, I was never able to articulate. Soren didn’t feel safe. He felt anything but.

Still, I needed help. “Okay.” I let out a breath. “Moving in with you feels…extreme.” I scratched my scalp. “But you staying with me would be even more crazy. I have an SUV, so going back and forth isn’t a problem.” I sighed. “Is this really the answer?”

He nodded—as if this idea was no big deal. “Why don’t I arrange for Noah to come out to my place about seven? That gives you time to pack after the store closes and head my way.”

The door opened, and I customer I didn’t recognize stepped into the store.

Soren stepped back.

The lady with a shock of long, red hair approached me. “I just rescued a cat and although the shelter sent home a few supplies, I know I need more.” She pulled a sheet of paper from her massive purple purse. “Help?”

I smiled. “Sure.”

Soren waved. “Just before I go, can I get your phone number? I can text my address. Don’t worry about dinner and all that—I can take care of it.”

The lady glanced between the two of us. “Is this a bad—”

“Absolutely the perfect time. Rescue pets are the best.” I snagged her list. I took a few seconds to write my phone number on a sticky note, hand that to Soren, and then head to the cat aisle. I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to him, but somehow, I knew he’d understand.

By the time the redhead left, I’d sold several hundred dollars’ worth of cat paraphernalia. I loaded everything into her car.

She gave me a hug—whether from nervousness at her new adventure or just sheer joy, I couldn’t be certain. Still, once she was on her way, I checked on the kittens, grabbed the crackers I kept for busy afternoons, and tackled doing some restocking between serving customers.

At some point, my phone buzzed. The text from Soren with an address and a reminder to just bring the kittens and whatever clothes I would need. Oh, and anything else, and I would have my own bedroom, and… In the end, the text proved to be as long and rambling as he’d been.Why? He’s always so self-possessed. Does this have something to do with Christmas?Avoiding the topic felt safe—that it would probably come up felt like an inevitability.

Five o’clock arrived. I packed up the kittens, set the alarm for the store and locked it up for the night. I did a quick run to the bank to deposit some cash, then I headed home.

During a lull this afternoon, I’d carefully created a list of everything I needed to bring with me. That turned out to be helpful as I was almost asleep on my feet as I packed. I fed the kittens once more, put everything in my SUV, and then headed to Soren’s. A diet soda with caffeine helped keep me awake forthe half-hour drive, but I knew I’d pay for that transgression tonight.

Is Soren going to comment on the fact I’ve lost weight?I hadn’t specifically done it for him—because that was the least successful way to keep the weight off. Nope. I’d gained the weight after the car accident—both while dealing with the pain of my injuries as well as the responsibility of caring for a grieving nine-year-old. Food became my comfort. Now, ten years later, I came to the realization that I needed to improve my health. For Quinta’s sake as well as my own. After Christmas, I’d invested in a set of weights as well as some good walking shoes. Slow and steady had been my mantra, and my doctor had been thrilled when I’d seen her last month for my check-up. All my numbers were looking better, and she was impressed with the weight loss.

To celebrate, I’d decided on a new haircut and, to my shock—as well as Quinta’s—adding some color. The blond hadn’t quite turned out as I’d hoped. Which my stylist had warned me about since I had black, curly hair. Still, the golden color had been nice. For about a day. Then I’d questioned what I’d been thinking. Short of shaving my head, though, I was stuck. Slowly, the color was growing out. Seeing the hairdresser to get a close cut was on my list of things to do in the next few weeks. Goodbye golden whatever. Back to just curly black.

Yeah. And with the kittens? When are you going to find the time for that?

I didn’t know.

They were in a carrier that was secured with a seatbelt in the back seat. They had a hot water bottle, and I’d fed them just before we’d taken off.

My GPS directed me to turn onto a road that was a little rougher than the previous one. Civilization was long behind me at this point as I was outside the official boundary of downtown Foggy Basin.

I nearly missed the driveway for Soren’s cabin as he didn’t have a sign. The trees were big, and the bushes were overgrown.Almost like he doesn’t want visitors out here. Oh God. What if he doesn’t want visitors out here?That thought hadn’t occurred to me. He’d made the suggestion so casually—I assumed he regularly invited people out. Maybe not virtual strangers with three kittens in tow, though.

The cabin was pretty much as I envisioned. Two-story wood structure with a sloping roof and a view of Big Butte Lake. Despite living near Foggy Basin, I’d never been here before.

I parked my SUV next to Soren’s and cut the engine.

For a moment, I just sat and tried to remember to breathe.He’s just a guy. I’m doing this because of the kittens. Nothing bad is going to happen.Right? Because I’d already endured a lifetime of hurt. Spending a little time around a man I wanted, but couldn’t have, couldn’t possibly be that difficult.

The man himself came out of the cabin and waved.

I waved back, unbuckled my seatbelt, and exited the SUV. “Uh, hey.”

“Glad you made it. I worried because some maps programs don’t always get the turnoff correct. I should’ve sent you more precise—”

I held up my hand. “Everything was perfect.”