“Don’t think about it,” she mumbled and listened to the squeak of the wipers squeegeeing the rain away. Oh God, she wanted to find herself a soft pillow to cry into. She wished she hadn’t agreed to stay with Tanya. All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and have a good cry. But did she really want to be alone? Just me.
Just me. The words seemed to chase the lump of hurt around her chest. The lump had been there ever since her mother told her about the cancer. Tears blurred her vision as rain coated her windshield. She attempted to hold back the tears; she didn’t need more liquid impairing her view.
~
Brit thumbed through another book of mug photos. His vision grew blurry. He needed some sleep or he wouldn’t make the night. Eyeing his watch, he decided to go home and try to grab a nap before his shift at eleven. Standing, he stretched his arms over his head. The wet sweater on his file cabinet caught his gaze. Tomorrow he’d drop the sweater off at her work, in exchange for his jacket.
The idea of seeing her again brought a surge of anticipation. His mind created a vision of her breasts against the wet blouse.
“Damn!” he mumbled, and mentally tossed the anticipation in the trash along with her cup of cold coffee. The last thing he needed was to get a hard on for some woman mixed up with an abusive boyfriend. He started out, then swung around and grabbed the sweater. He did want his jacket back.
Only a light mist fell when he stepped out the backdoor of the precinct. He stopped to grab his keys from his pocket when something brushed against his leg. Looking down, he saw the pathetic looking mama feline rubbing her face against the hem of his jeans. The animal’s gray fur seemed too thin, her chest swollen with milk, and her right ear was missing most of its tip. She’d tangled with someone she shouldn’t have. Her gold eyes rose, and she let out a pathetic meow.
“What? I already fed you.” He heard her light purr and could almost feel the soft rattle against his leg. “Look, you’re better off attaching yourself to that Anderson kid. He’s the real softy.”
Then Brit wondered if she’d let him grab her so he could take her to a shelter—one like Anderson said, one that didn’t euthanize. He’d bet Keith would have known where to take her. Hell, Keith would have taken her home.
Grief fluttered deep in his chest, and he continued to stare at the feline. She looked on the outside like he felt on the inside. Battered, worn down, at the end of an emotional rope. He thought again about rescuing her from the streets. But he couldn’t snatch her without her kittens.
“Your crew still in the storm drain, huh?” He bent down, but she instantly backed off and hissed. “Hey, you started this relationship.” Studying her, he slowly reached out, but she hissed again and took off, disappearing under the metal fence. He walked over to the storm drain, saw the water had risen pretty high, and he didn’t hear the kittens. She’d obviously moved them to higher ground. Smart cat.
~
Thirty minutes later, he walked into his two-bedroom bungalow in one of the older sections of Hopeful, Texas. The place had been one of six homes his Dad had bought during the recession in the eighties. When the economy took an upswing, old money came in and started turning the neighborhood around and property value shot up tenfold. One of the homes his mom had sold helped put him and his sister through college. Then she gave them each one as a graduation present. His sister sold hers, and his mom rented out the others, living off the profit.
Every few months, someone offered to buy Brit’s home. He could make a killing by selling. He refused. Not because of sentimental reasons. Nevertheless, his old man’s short career in real estate investment had been the only thing he’d ever done right. Of course, that one good thing had stemmed from his one big win at the track.
Tossing his keys on the kitchen table, Brit walked into his laundry room. He fit the soggy sweater around a plastic hanger. Catching a feminine scent, he pulled the wet wool to his nose. It smelled like her—the light flowery scent he’d noticed that night at her apartment. “Damn you smell good.”
“Sniffing sweaters, huh?”
Brit swung around. The sweater fell to the washing machine. “Friggin’ hell, Sis, don’t do that!”
“Don’t do what?” Susan asked.
“Sneak up on me. What the hell are you doing here?”
Her wide mouth thinned to a tight line. “Is it me, or have greetings gone downhill lately?”
He frowned. “You scared the piss out of me.”
She eyed him, head cocked to one side. “What happened to your lip?”
“Football,” he mumbled as he watched her toss a dark braid over a shoulder.
“God, you suck at lying.” She stepped closer and touched his swollen lip. “Ouch.”
“I’m fine.” He remembered Cali McKay muttering that same lie.
His sister frowned. “You completely forgot, didn’t you?” She stared at his lip.
He got a bad feeling. “Forgot what?”
“I called you two weeks ago. Told you I’d be in town for Mom’s birthday, and you said I could stay with you.”