The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood 3)

Thursday evening, she was hopped up on catnip and purring like mad when my phone rang, and Clay’s name appeared on screen. He wanted to FaceTime me? I tapped the screen and pushed out a bright smile.

“Hey, there,” I said. “Are you missing this pussy?”

I was lying on my back on the floor beside our cat, so I panned the camera over to bring her in frame.

His laugh was short, and I couldn’t tell if he was amused or just caught off guard by my joke. He appeared to be sitting on the bed in his hotel room, leaning against the headboard. “Hi. I see you’re keeping her company.”

“I check on her every day.”

“I know,” he said. “I see the notifications on my phone.”

I paused. His security system was fancy and probably had cameras too. “Yeah?” I teased. “Are you watching me?”

His eyebrow edged up into an upside-down V. “Is that a problem?”

God, his playful sternness got me hot. “You know it’s not.”

But whatever dirty thoughts I was about to have were interrupted when Noir rolled over. As she stretched, her claws came out and reminded me of what I needed to mention. “I’m worried she might be scratching on your furniture. Any objection to me buying her a scratching post?”

“Why would I object to that?”

“I didn’t know if you were thinking about building something for her.”

“Oh.” His gaze drifted away as he considered it, then returned to the camera. “I can’t.”

I nodded in understanding. “You’ve got your kitchen renovation and that kneeler you’re working on. I just figured I’d check before I went and—”

“No, it’s not that.” He closed his eyes and rubbed the center of his forehead. “I can’t because I don’t know when I’ll be home next. That’s why I’m calling.”

I sat up with a start. “What?”

“Somehow the wrong specs went to the fabricators, which means now we have to change the configuration of the rooms. And that means the outlets have to move, plus the cabinets . . . It’s a cascading change and a fucking nightmare.” He opened his eyes, and disappointment made his shoulders slump. “I have to stay onsite until we have it sorted out.”

I pressed my lips together and did my best to control my emotions. He was supposed to come back tomorrow, and since he was only set to be home for the weekend, we’d made plans to spend Saturday night together.

Well, he’d said he’d handle the planning, but I’d agreed to come over.

I’d been eagerly wondering what he had in store for me. I wasn’t just terribly curious about him, but also wanted to know how he’d help me explore BDSM. What kind of enjoyable pain was he planning to put on the menu for our evening?

And also, we hadn’t had sex yet—not when it was just us, so I was desperate for that.

“How long do you think it’ll be?”

He hesitated. “At least another week or two.”

I forced out a smile, trying to downplay my disappointment. “That’s not that bad.”

“No, but it’s not,” he weighted the word, “ideal.” He was just as frustrated with the situation as I was, and that helped ease the sting a little. “I had plans for us, and you know I don’t like it when my plans get changed.”

Warmth spread through me at the memory. “You don’t have to change them. This is just a delay.” I lifted an eyebrow and strove for a sexy tone. “I’ll still be right next door whenever you get back.”

Noir rested her head on top of one of her arms as she curled up into a ball and began to fall asleep. I panned the camera down so she was in the frame.

“I bet she was looking forward to seeing you again,” I said.

When I moved the phone so I was back on screen, his guard seemed down and his tone genuine. “Trust me, I was looking forward to seeing her, too.”

It was perfectly clear he wasn’t talking about the black and white cat we shared.

Instead of spending Saturday night with Clay as planned, I commiserated with Cassidy. Her boyfriend Greg was on-call all weekend, which meant he was stuck at the hospital and we were both without our partners. We did dinner and a movie, and then she ‘crashed’ at my place afterward—at least, that was the version she told her mother.

It really meant she parked her car at my house, then walked to Greg’s place that was a few streets over and slept in his bed, because there was a chance he’d come home in the middle of the night, and they took every opportunity they could to be together, especially when she was home from Vanderbilt for the summer.

I suspected she wasn’t fooling anyone, but Cassidy wouldn’t turn twenty-one until August, and her mother liked to pretend her daughter wasn’t spending the night with a man who was twenty years older.