Page 32 of No Judgements

Ed waved at him dismissively. “I’ll be right back. I’ll pick up more beer, too, if they have any left.”

I watched in some dismay as he left.Don’t, I wanted to cry.Please don’t leave me alone with your hot shirtless nephew.

Especially as the sky was looking more and more overcast, thunder rumbling more often, and the wind getting stronger... strong enough that it was picking up all the blossoms that had shaken loose from the branches of the frangipani tree and was sending them spiraling around the courtyard in a desperately sad ballet.

But of course I couldn’t tell him not to go. So instead, my fingers unaccountably shaky, I merely undid the locks and led Drew Hartwell into the cool air-conditioning of my apartment.

“Sorry about the mess,” I babbled. “My roommate’s out of town so I haven’t been bothering to clean up after myself—”

Gary rocketed toward us like a furry gray missile, giving me an indignant meow for having been gone so long, then buried his head against Drew’s work-booted feet.

“Whoa,” Drew said, looking down.

“Oh, that’s Gary.” I noticed my bra from last night lying on the floor, swiftly lifted it, and stuffed it between the sofa cushions before he noticed. “He does that to everyone. I got him from the shelter, he’d been there for years. They don’t know what happened to him before that, they think he was abandoned and lived on the streets for a while. All his teeth rotted out, so I had to have them removed.” I was babbling, but I couldn’t help it. Drew Hartwell was in my apartment. “He’s attention starved.”

“I can tell.” Drew stooped to rub Gary’s head with an outstretched index finger. “Hey, there, Gary,” he said, as Gary purred, contorting himself in absolute ecstasy around Drew’s foot. “You’re a good boy.”

“I’ll... I’ll just get you a beer.”

I hurried into the kitchen, trying not to freak out over the fact that Drew Hartwell—Drew Hartwell—was in my apartment, shirtless, being nice to my cat.

“Thanks,” I heard Drew say, from the living room. “And then you better start getting your stuff together. Yours and whatever you need for Gary, here.”

I popped back out from the kitchen, two cold bottles ofbeer in my hands, not sure I’d heard him correctly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Your stuff,” Drew said pleasantly, reaching out to take one of the bottles from me. “You should start getting some stuff together. Because I’m taking you back home with me.”

Chapter Thirteen

Time:1:36P.M.

Temperature:84ºF

Wind Speed:24 MPH

Wind Gust:44 MPH

Precipitation:0.3 in.

He tugged on the beer, since I still hadn’t released it.

“For the hurricane?” He raised his dark eyebrows. “My aunt Lucy said she told you. You obviously can’t stay here.”

“What?” I released the bottle but continued to stare up at him in shock. “Yes, I can. Of course I can stay here. You cleared the tree out of the way. Why can’t I stay here?”

“The tree’s just the beginning of your problems.” Drew twisted the cap off his beer. “The storm hasn’t even started yet and you already almost got trapped in here. Imagine what will happen when the rain and storm surge come. This apartment building is in the flood zone. Why do you think all of your neighbors have left?”

I looked past him, through the partially open door,where Gary had sneaked out into the courtyard and was cautiously sniffing at the fallen limbs of his former shade tree. “Okay,” I said. “I can see your point. But I don’t need to stay with your aunt. I told you I have a place to stay, over at the Cascabel, with—”

“I thought we went through this already.” Drew shook his head in disbelief. “You’re not staying at that hotel. Despite what people say, it isn’t safe. You want to take your cat somewhere that isn’t safe?”

That stung. “No. Of course not.”

“Then go get your stuff. I’m taking you to my aunt’s house.” He swigged from the beer. “And hurry up. I want to get back to my place and let the dogs out for a run before the next rain band hits.”

God. Was there ever anyone bossier in all of human existence—except for my mother, of course?

What made it worse was that he was right. Mrs. Hartwell’s offer seemed like a much more sensible choice than sharing a room with Patrick and Bill and their three dogs and George Foreman grill at the hotel, or even hunkering down at the high school, which I’d also been considering. And I had long ago given up on the idea of driving up to Coral Gables to stay with Daniella, given the gasoline situation.