The Return of the Rebel
“How could I forget? You remind me every day.” She started toward the family room before calling over her shoulder, “While you’re upstairs would you mind grabbing the blue tote bag from my bedroom?”
“Your wish is my command.”
He took the steps two at a time. His gaze scanned the hallway for any sign of the feline. How in the world was he going to find a little cat in this big house? He’d probably found a nice dark corner to take a catnap.
But first Jax needed to get the bag for Cleo. He worried that she was overdoing it and he didn’t want her to reinjure herself. He told himself that it was no more care than he’d give to a coworker or neighbor... But then again he wouldn’t be kissing them. And with each passing day it was getting harder to keep Cleo at arm’s length.
Not only was he painfully attracted to her, but her passion for life made him want to set out on a new adventure. He found himself daydreaming about having a full life—no longer spending his days chained to a desk and computer. His thoughts trailed back to Hope Springs with its wide-open spaces and its endless possibilities. But most of all, he envisioned Cleo by his side.
However, for that to happen, he’d have to sentence her to an eventual life of caring for an ill man with a tenuous future—only to wind up a young widow. Cold fingers of apprehension gripped his throat, cutting off his breath. He refused to do that to Cleo. He banished the unsettling thoughts to the back of his mind. No matter how tempting a life with her might seem, he couldn’t put her in that horrendous situation.
With the blue bag in hand, he returned to the family room, where Cleo had turned on the big-screen TV. A fashion design competition was on. “I take it you still enjoy clothes.”
She nodded while rummaging through the oversize bag and pulling out a sketch pad and a pack of pencils.
“Some things don’t change.”
“Did you find Charlie?” She glanced at him expectantly.
He’d forgotten about the furball. Where in the world did he even begin to look for the cat?
As though reading his mind, Cleo said, “You’ll have to get down on all fours. He likes to nap in cozy, dark spots.”
Jax expelled a sigh. He might as well start in here. “Here kitty, kitty.”
He crawled around on the floor looking under every piece of furniture in the room. There was no cat to be found.
Jax sat up on his knees next to Cleo. “He isn’t in here.” His gaze moved to the sketch pad in her hands. “What are you doing?”
She jerked the pad against her chest. “Why?”
“I’m curious.”
“You’ll just laugh.”
“Why would I laugh? Obviously you’re drawing something that’s important to you. I’m just curious what it is.”
Her shoulders drooped and the lines in her face eased. “It’s just that when I was growing up my brothers would always poke fun at my drawings. I guess I didn’t realize, until now, how touchy I’ve become.”
“Can I see? I promise to be on my best behavior.”
Her mouth pulled to the side as she thought it over before she nodded. When she turned the pad around, he sat up straighter, truly interested. There was the outline of a woman with no face, but the details were in the soft pink dress with a long skirt and a halter-style top.
“That’s impressive.” He meant it. “Instead of going to college to become an accountant, you should have considered pursuing art.”
“You really think it’s that good.”
He nodded. “If I had to draw it, there’d be a stick figure on the page. It wouldn’t be that good of one, either. And as for the clothes, um...do rectangles and squares count?”
“I don’t think so. They’d be awfully uncomfortable.”
The rays from Cleo’s smile filled his chest with warmth. Until that moment he hadn’t realized how empty his life had been, even before the cancer. Sure, he had his work, and his amazing success at such a young age was very rewarding. But when he returned to his apartment in the evenings, it was dark and empty. There wasn’t so much as a fish or a Charlie waiting for him.
He didn’t know how he’d ever go back to that solitary life after sharing this place with Cleo...and her furball. The cat really wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, he rather liked the little guy, which was probably a good thing since the cat had taken to snuggling up on his chest when he was sleeping. He’d surprisingly grown used to Charlie’s nightly visits.
Jax knew he was setting himself up for a fall because this arrangement was not permanent—no matter how much he might like it to be otherwise. But he had resolved not to fight it. There was no harm in enjoying Cleo’s company—as long as he kept his hands to himself.
“So what do you do with your drawings?”