“Don’t judge me.”
He holds up his hand and laughs.
Pickles is curled up in a ball in the back corner of the enclosure, and I take my normal seat next to him.
“Someone dropped him off here in a box. I think he was an inside cat because he’s declawed and neutered. Poor little guy was scared to death.”
“I’m not sure I’d call him little.” Rhett keeps a hand on the cage, ensuring the door stays shut.
“Can you believe that, Pickles?” I ask, hoisting the twenty-pound cat onto my lap. “He thinks you’re fat.”
I have a bad habit of talking to the animals like they’re people. Guess that’s what happens when you spend your days with four-legged friends, but Rhett doesn’t laugh or make fun of me.
Pickles looks up with sad eyes, but he makes no move to jump off my lap. Instead, he inches his way toward the can of tuna and takes a nibble.
“He doesn’t eat much. I’ve had him checked by the vet, and he seems to be in good health. My guess is his owner fed him a lot of wet cat food or tuna because he won’t touch the dry food.”
“Or he’s playing you.”
I lift a brow. “You think a cat is playing me?”
“Sure. Cats are smart. He knows that if he refuses to eat the other food you bring him, you’ll eventually offer his favorite. Tuna.”
I look down at the wet cat food still sitting in his bowl from last night and frown. Damnit, maybe Rhett is right. I sit patiently while Pickles eats his fill, and then I give him one last pet and put him on the cat bed. “You aren’t playing me, are you?” I whisper.
“Meow.” He pushes his cold nose against my arm, arches his back, and crawls off the bed. He curls up in the corner
where I know I’ll find him tomorrow.
I step out of the enclosure. “You hungry?”
Rhett closes the door behind me. “Starved. Want to run in town and grab a bite?”
A juicy burger and an order of fries sounds fantastic, but it’ll put me out ten bucks, and I’m not willing to make that sacrifice. “Nah. Don’t have time. I packed my lunch.”
I grab my food from my truck and meet Rhett inside. He’s sitting across from my desk, his long legs stretched out in front of him with ruby’s head resting on his lap. He tugs his sling off, and my step falters when he reaches for the back of his shirt with his good arm and pulls it over his head.
It should be illegal for a man to do that move within a ten-foot radius of a woman.
Rolling my tongue up, I shove it back into my mouth and walk on in. “If I’d known you were providing the afternoon entertainment, I would’ve brought my dollar bills.”
“Very funny.” He slaps at my ass when I walk by, and I squeal, jumping forward. “It’s muggy as hell out today,” he adds, pushing his fingers into the fur on Ruby’s head. The affection he has for her is so simple and familiar that it makes my heart ache for things to be the way they once were. “What did you bring for lunch?”
“Turkey sandwich, chips, granola bar, and an apple. Want some?”
He shrugs and stands up. Ruby isn’t too happy about finding another spot to rest her head—because no other spot compares to Rhett’s chiseled thigh—but she settles on her blanket in the corner of the room. Rhett goes through a series of stretches, each one pushing his shoulder further. I try to focus on my lunch, but it’s damn hard with all those muscles flexing and winking at me. He’s definitely beefed up over the years. And is that a V leading to his—
“Mo?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re staring.” He blinks. I search his eyes for frustration or amusement, but all I see is a desperate hunger.
“I can’t help it,” I whisper, and then I jam my apple in my mouth and take a bite before I do something stupid like beg him to bend me over this desk and have his wicked way with me.
He smiles, slow and seductive. “Maybe we should make it fair. I wouldn’t be opposed to you stripping down so I can get in some ogling time of my own.”
I toss my apple at his head. He catches it midair with his good hand and takes a bite.