The Dating Resolution. Hannah Bernard
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It squeezed through the opening and bolted into the house. Hailey peered around outside, but saw no one, so she closed the door again.
“Well, we seem to have True Love,” she told Ellen. “A kitten just came asking for asylum and I have no idea where it went.”
Ellen oohed. “Great. Boy or girl? Is it a stray looking for a home? I hear they make great self-cleaning litter boxes these days.”
“I can’t keep it,” Hailey protested, walking from room to room looking for the cat. “I don’t know anything about animals. And I can’t take it with me when I go back home. Pets aren’t allowed at my apartment.”
“Don’t panic. You probably won’t be able to keep it anyway. Most likely it’s a neighbor’s cat.”
Hailey squeezed the phone between ear and shoulder and dove after a swinging tail into a kitchen cupboard. “Out of there, you little thief,” she muttered. “How can you smell the tuna inside the can? And how did you manage to open the cupboard?”
“The cat opened a cupboard?”
“Well, I didn’t leave it open, and now he’s inside.” Hailey grabbed hold of the cat by the middle and pulled it out of the cupboard. A small tail flicked in anger, and then the kitten hissed at her.
“It’s a he?”
“I don’t know.” She held the cat up and tried to check out the relevant body parts. “I have no idea. Is there an easy way to tell?”
“Hmm. Pink or blue collar? Or a name tag?”
“No collar. Hold on—someone’s knocking again.” She flung the door open, phone cradled between her ear and shoulder, cat digging its claws into her other shoulder. This time, there was a human on her doorstep. A hot, scruffy one.
Of course it would be his cat.
“Hi again. Did you get a feline visitor recently?” Hailey shifted, and Jordan caught a look at the cat hanging from her shoulder. “I see you two have met.”
“This your cat?” Hailey tried to remove the kitten, but the claws were stuck to her sweater—and a few embedded in her skin. “Ouch! Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Female.”
“Are you sure? She’s behaving an awful lot like a boy.”
“I’m a vet, I should know. She’s female.”
“And she’s yours?”
“No, she’s not my cat. That’s Helena. And she seems to be stuck to you. Can I help?”
Helena meowed, digging her claws in deeper. Hailey yelped. “Yikes! What’s she trying to do, give me a paw-shaped tattoo? Get her off me!”
“I’m trying.” Jordan leaned closer as he dug Helena’s claws one by one out of Hailey’s shoulder. After a small eternity he finally straightened up with the tiny kitten in his arms. Hailey noticed she didn’t dig into his skin with her lethal little claws.
Instead she was purring.
Typical female.
“You okay?” Jordan asked.
“Huh?” Much like Helena, she’d gotten distracted. It was the way he smelled. No sophisticated cologne, of course, it wouldn’t go with the rest of him—but something even better. Outdoorsy scent. Natural and fresh. Primitive. Masculine. Undeniably sexy.
Okay, Hailey, for that thought you spend an extra half hour on the treadmill.
Dammit! This wasn’t boding well.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I think.” She rubbed her shoulder. “No lasting damage. She’s so cute! Orange cats are so cute. Does she live nearby?”
“She’s nobody’s cat. She showed up a couple of weeks ago and begs food from everybody in the street.” He stroked the kitten and she meowed on top of her purr, butting his palm with her tiny head. “She’s used to hanging out with Jane, so you’ll probably be seeing a lot of her.” He put the cat down on the doorstep, and she sped back inside, with only a short pause to rub against Hailey’s legs, leaving another fine layer of soft orange hair.
“She found a can of tuna in the kitchen. A whole pile of cans in fact. She seemed to know the way.”
His lips quirked. “That would explain her love for Jane. And her sudden love for you.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug, drawing her unwilling attention to some excellent hidden physique under that sweater, and then he started to turn away. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you about her, since I saw her heading your way.”
Hailey looked back. The cat was prancing back and forth by the kitchen cabinet, impatiently waiting for her to come and dish out the tuna. “What do I do with her?” she called after Jordan.
He turned back, shrugging again, his hands in the pockets of his worn—but damn well-fitting—jeans. “She’s a house-squatting stray. Let her stay if you like, else just show her the door. She’ll get the picture if you don’t feed or pet her, and find another prey.”
“Throw her outside?” That seemed a bit cruel. “Where will she sleep?”
Jordan chuckled as he jumped over the fence. “Anywhere,” he called back. “She’s a cat. Cats know better than anyone that there’s a sucker born every minute.”
Hailey shut the door and leaned against it, eyes closed. No, no, no, no.
Why did a guy like that have to live next door? Why did she have to feel drawn to the first man she met up here? Was it her addiction, already pushing her toward the first available man?
Well, she would damn well fight it. She could, and she would.
She’d completely forgotten about Ellen when there was a sound from the phone, still clenched in her hand. She brought it to her ear. “Hi. Sorry to leave you hanging.”
“I didn’t mind. I heard the entire thing. Who was that?”
Hailey gritted her teeth to keep her voice steady. Nonchalant but not too nonchalant, or Ellen would catch on. Ellen was far too good at reading voices, faces—thoughts, even. “Nobody. Just a neighbor. Someone Jane sent over to give me the key.”
Ellen’s voice turned smug. “For a nobody, he sounds pretty sexy.”
Right. Utter failure. What had she expected? “Nope. Not sexy at all. He’s sixty-nine, bald, toothless and absolutely not my type.”
“You’re lying. He sounds hunky. All that low timbre…Mmm. Oh, yes, I like him.”
“It’s just a voice! We all have one!”
“I bet he could give you goose bumps if he were to whisper something sweet into your ear. Like, say, on a dance floor? Holding you close, your head resting on his shoulder breathing in his masculine scent as you softly sway together to a romantic ballad, your bodies in perfect synchrony…”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Ellen! Shut up! Go write a poem!”
“In a minute. I just need a few vital statistics, then I’ll stop, promise. What’s his name?”
It was easier to give in and get it over with. “His name is Jordan Halifax. He’s a vet. Probably around thirty-five or something. He has a kid in my class. That enough info for you?”
“A kid? But he’s single?”
“Yes.”
“Most excellent. What does he look like?”
“Gray eyes, thick, wavy brown hair, sort of scruffy look but he makes it work. Tall, wears jeans and sweaters in that way that could make women in their weaker moments want to rip them off. Happy?”
“Wow! You’ve really looked at him, haven’t you? You only met him a couple of hours ago!”
“I