Page 35 of No Judgements

Drew, however, caught him and swung him into the air.

“Hey, there,” he said, cradling Gary in his arms like he was a large, furry baby. “Where do you think you’re going, buddy? You’re coming with us. That’s the only place you’re going.”

Gary didn’t exactly purr, but he didn’t try to flay Drew alive with his claws, either (Gary had learned over the past week and a half that biting didn’t work anymore, since he had no teeth). He seemed to accept his fate, lying limply in Drew’s arms, giving me a reproachful look that seemed to ask,Really? You’re letting this happen? Fine.

It took me a second or two to open the door to the carrier. That’s because, upon seeing Drew Hartwell standing there with my cat in his arms, my heart had stuttered.

But whose heart wouldn’t have skipped a beat at the sight of a big, handsome man holding a cute, furry cat in his arms—even if that cat happened to have no teeth?

Gary had begun vocalizing in an irritable way—his claws still sheathed—to show he was unhappy with the situation when Drew looked up and caught me staring at him.

“What?” he asked, still cradling the cat. “Am I doing this wrong? Should I put him down? I’m more of a dog than a cat person, but I like cats, too.”

“No,” I said, glad for the excuse to look away. I did not need my heartstrings pulled in his direction right now. I stepped forward and took Gary from his arms, taking careto pay no attention to the way he smelled—deliciously, of clean, male sweat and frangipani—or his body heat, which was tantalizingly warm. “It’s all good.”

Gary put up only a token fight as I stuffed him into the carrier. It was as if he, like the birds, sensed something bad was coming, and he’d better not stand in its way. Or more likely he sensed that I was in no mood for his nonsense.

“There,” I said, when I’d latched the cat in safely. “All set.”

As if on cue, a car horn sounded outside. Ed was back with Drew’s pickup.

Drew took a last look around the living room. “You sure you have everything?”

I glanced around, then remembered. “The starter!”

I scampered to grab it from the fridge. Thank God I’d remembered or Daniella would have been crushed. That sourdough starter had been in her family for years. Every holiday, she made tons of loaves, which she shipped off to various members of her family, who worshipped her for making bread that tasted just like Grandma’s.

Drew eyed the clear container in my hands distrustfully. “Should I even ask?”

“It’s probably better that you don’t.”

He sighed. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Chapter Fourteen

Emergency Disaster Survival Kit Basics—Pets

Pet carrier and leash

Pet medications/travel documents

Pet food (7–10 day supply)

Cat litter and box

Current photos of pet in case you are separated

Pet bed and toys

The room into which Mrs. Hartwell ushered me was lovely.

“I’m sorry it isn’t a bedroom,” she said, apologetically. “But all of our guest rooms are upstairs, and a central room on the first floor is the safest place to be during a storm, especially one that could generate tornadoes.”

“Oh, no, this is... fine.” I could hardly believe what I was seeing. “Thank you so much, Mrs. H.”

The first-floor library—with its own set of French doors that I could close off from the rest of the house for privacy,as well as to keep Gary from wandering—had originally been the home’s morning room, where the first Mrs. Hartwell (whose husband, Captain Hartwell, had built the house in 1855) had probably sat and answered her correspondence every day after breakfast.

And why wouldn’t she want to? Where the walls weren’t covered in ornately scrolled white bookcases, double stacked with books, they were stenciled—not papered, because that would have been unheard of in South Florida in 1855—in cornflower blue overlaid with gold fleur-de-lis. The room smelled tantalizingly of pine and old books.