Chapter Nine
The familiar creak of the bathroom door woke Grant. Niki stirred in his arms for a moment, adjusted her position against him, then released an adorable soft purr and went back to sleep.
The single bed in his parents’ guest room was barely big enough for the two of them, but that made the accommodations perfect, since it required they snuggle close. Breathing in the flowery scent of Niki’s hair, he considered waking her for yet another session. Once in the station wagon and twice since they’d returned to the house, yet he still craved her like air or water.
He’d broken his own rule about relationships, but then, he’d done that long before they’d slept together—this time. One or two nights with Niki wasn’t nearly enough. But he wasn’t going to give up his life for her, and he didn’t expect her to give up hers for him. So where did that leave them?
He turned a little in order to glimpse the clock on the bedside table. It was almost five in the morning. Soon the house would be abuzz with activity, and leaving the guest room unnoticed would be impossible. Making love to Niki again would have to wait. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head then gently extracted his body from hers.
After slipping out of bed, he pulled on his jeans, grabbed his shoes and the rest of his clothes, and eased open the door as quietly as he could. Almost home free.
“Been a while since you sneaked out of a girl’s room before dawn in this house.”
Grant cringed at his grandfather’s pronouncement. Straightening, he scrambled to think of an excuse why he’d be in Niki’s room so early, but then glanced down at his pile of clothes. He faced his grandfather and shrugged. “Guess I’m busted.”
His grandpa, wearing the same bathrobe he’d had for as long as Grant could remember, grinned. His white hair spiraled out from his head in several different directions, and his little wire-framed glasses were slightly askew on his face, as if he’d been half asleep when he’d put them on. He was obviously wide awake now, and grinning like a geriatric maniac. “You didn’t think anyone knew you’d been in there with Carrie either when she’d spent the night while you two were dating, did you? I know everything that goes on in this house. Always have.” He bugged his eyes out and flapped his arms gently up and down a few times. “Ears like a bat.”
With that, his grandfather stopped flapping, turned, and shuffled back to his bedroom.
Grant’s jaw automatically clenched at the mention of Carrie, and the reminder that he’d slept with her in the same room, the very same bed where he’d just left Niki. Not that there was any comparison between the women. Niki would never do the complete one-eighty that Carrie had. She’d never turn into someone else and run off with some rich blow-hard from work like Carrie had.
Would she?
He crossed the hallway into his room and sat on the bed, Niki’s boss popping into his head like a bad 1980s earworm. It wasn’t the same situation. Grant had been married to Carrie, but he and Niki weren’t… They just weren’t.
Maybe they should have a talk, but that sounded about as appealing as hitting himself in the face with a hammer. So instead he chose to take a shower and throw himself into his mother’s list of chores.
By noon, he’d fixed loose floorboards, put in a new dryer vent, and replaced several pieces of rotted wood around a window. He was pushing a wheelbarrow full of tools, new fence posts, and a few bags of concrete toward the barnyard when Niki caught up with him.
Wearing a pair of black jeans and a white blouse tied at her waist, she looked even sexier than she had the day before, and a lot better than she did every day in Miami. There was no funky jewelry, no mile-high stilettos, no wild makeup. It was just Niki, pure and honest, the way she’d been before her boss had insisted that she change up her style.
She carried a large picnic basket and a plaid blanket he recognized from the house. “Your grandmother packed us a lunch.”
“That was nice of her.”
“What are you doing now?” she asked.
“Fixing the fence.”
“Can I help?”
You can help by getting out of my head. “You can keep me company.” His voice didn’t betray any of his inner turmoil. Go, Grant.
She let out a groan. “I never knew what a sexist you were. Let me do something. I’m not some weak, frou-frou little girl.”
Nothing about her was weak. Her strength and determination were part of what made her so damn appealing. “Said the woman carrying a basket full of homemade food.” And of course the fact that she could take a joke.
She narrowed her eyes and was just about to let loose a volley of words when he held up a hand to stop her, laughing. “Okay! Kidding! You want to push the wheelbarrow, and I’ll carry the basket?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, sure. I guess I can do that.”
Holding back a smirk, he took the basket and blanket then stepped aside to let her at the wheelbarrow. “We’re going to the east end of the yard to repair the last few damaged posts.”
Nodding, she leaned into the handles and shoved the cart forward through the grass with obvious effort.
“Need help with that?”
With a grunt, she forged ahead. “Absolutely not. I’m…fine.”
He strode ahead of her, venturing a covert glance over his shoulder every so often to make sure she was all right, ready to push the wheelbarrow at a moment’s notice. When she stopped for a second to wipe sweat from her forehead, he couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Tell you what. I’ll get the supplies over to where we need them and then you can help me.”
She merely glared at him and redoubled her efforts. Though she kept her breathing under control, her face was bright red as she rolled up to the fence at the far end of the yard. He couldn’t help but think of his grandmother hefting feed sacks at the mill as a young girl.
A second later, she relieved him of the picnic supplies. “This is as good as any time for lunch.” Without giving him a chance to argue, she set the basket on the grass under a tree, spread out the blanket, sat down, and started unpacking plastic containers of food. “Come on. Let’s eat.”
Sitting under a larger tree a bit farther down the fence would have made more sense considering the heat, but he wasn’t going to point that out to her now that she had everything set up. He guessed this was as close to showing weakness as she’d get, and he wasn’t about to point it out. “Okay.” He joined her on the blanket and took a plate and napkin.
“Hasn’t your family heard of paper plates? No wonder this thing was so heavy.” Niki fished in the basket for something she obviously wasn’t finding.
“The reusable stuff is more ecologically correct, isn’t it?”
She gave his comment a half eye roll then interrupted her own non-verbal smackdown by closing her eyes and smiling happily as she chewed. Her satisfied moan reminded him of how she’d sounded every time she’d climaxed last night, which was about four times, not that he was counting. “Why does everything taste so wonderful here?” she asked.
“There’s none of that processed junk in it.” He took a bite of bread. “Homemade is a million times better than the store-bought crap we get in the city.”
She bit her bottom lip. “I couldn’t give up all I’d have to live here. I love city life too much,” she said quietly.
He tipped his chin toward the checkerboard patterned hills in the distance. “Look at the beauty around us; taste the food. What would you be giving up, going to a few nightclubs, shopping at the mall? Big deal.”
He couldn’t believe he was actually arguing with her. He couldn’t believe he was seriously holding his breath waiting for her answer.
Her eyes bugged out. “Seriously? You think the shopping and the nightlife are the only things missing here? How about culture, bands, and a decent wifi signal, for heaven’s sake. Cities have museums, restaurants, and…and people.”
“That’s true. They also have crime and lines to do everything from paying for your gas to buying a screwdriver.”
She set down her plate. “If you hate cities so much, why’d you agree to move to Miami in the first place?”
He threw his hands up in the air in a semi-violent shrug. “I was raised to believe that marriage is about compromise. I figured it would only be for a few years. Eventually, she’d get an offer with another company in New York. Apparently, she got an even better offer from her boss.” He felt a pang in his chest. Damn it. But it wasn’t as pang-y as usual. The look of pity in Niki’s eyes, on the other hand, made him feel a hell of a lot worse.
His appetite all but gone, he finished the rest of his lunch in a hurry, brushed the crumbs from his jeans, and stood up. “All set?”
“Sure.”
After they’d replaced two posts, Niki’s phone rang. She took it from her pocket. “It’s Tristan.” She walked a few yards away and kept her back to Grant.
As he loaded a rotten piece of wood into the wheelbarrow, he slid a glance at her.
“Yeah, right,” she said. “I’m doing a ton of partying with the cows and chickens.” She laughed and twirled a strand of hair around her finger.
His gut knotted.
Niki’s stance stiffened. “Mm-hmm. I see. But…but—” She fisted her free hand and hit it against her thigh. “Tristan, isn’t there someone else who can handle it?” She gave Grant a quick glance over her shoulder.
Something in the tight set of her mouth made him uneasy. He packed up the tools and waited for her to finish her call.
“Fine,” she said into her cell before hanging up and meeting Grant’s stare. “Tristan needs me to be in Miami tomorrow evening for a big event at the club.”
His jaw automatically clenched. “You finally remember to charge your cell phone, and look what happens.”
Her lips flattened to a thin line.
“So you won’t be able to come to my grandparents’ anniversary party.”
“No. I’ll have to fly out tomorrow morning. At least Tristan will pay for whatever switching my flight will cost.”
Grant grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow and pushed it toward the shed.
Niki groaned. “I’m so sorry. He has a meeting in L.A. about a property there that came on the market unexpectedly. And there’s a very important client of his having a party at the club tomorrow. He’d planned to be there to supervise things, make sure it all went perfectly, but he can’t very well be in two places at once, can he?”
“Guess not.” The contents of the wheelbarrow bumped around as he pushed it.
She ran behind him. “Grant, he said that if I do this, the London job is mine.”
Wiping sweat from his forehead, he stopped and waited a beat in order to keep his cool. “Just be sure he’s not taking advantage of you.”
“Do you want me to stay?” She waited. “Grant, I swear, if I’m that important to you, I would.”
He caught the I’m. “If I’m that important to you,” not “if it’s that important to you.” And for a brief moment, he was tempted to tell her yes.
But what good would it do? She’d let go of her dream job, and then she’d hate him forever for taking her away from it. Been there. Done that. Really didn’t want to go through it again. “Go, Niki. You and I both know you need to go.”
From her deep frown, he knew he’d struck a nerve. She rubbed her temples. “I’d better call the airline.”
“Good idea.” What was wrong with him? He’d known better than to develop feelings for her. No, not feelings, really. Just an infatuation, the result of living with an attractive woman who was off limits.
Niki was breathing heavy, obviously struggling to keep pace with him. “I’m so sorry that I won’t be here for the party.”
Without his consent, a memory came to mind. Carrie bowing out of his brother’s wedding at the last minute, due to some big merger that wouldn’t happen if she wasn’t there. So she’d stayed in Miami, and he’d flown home for the wedding. A year later, Carrie had had an affair with another man.
But Niki wasn’t his wife, and this wasn’t the same thing.
Damn it. He had to shut off his emotions. Hell, he’d done it before; he could do it again. Niki was just a woman—a woman whose heart he’d promised to safeguard. Too bad he hadn’t kept that promise from the beginning. Might have saved himself some misery. He refused to let another woman hurt him.
Any feelings he had for Niki, he’d have to get over. End of story. “I understand. Work comes first. I’ll explain everything to my folks tomorrow morning.”
But when Niki checked flight schedules to Miami, the only one that would get her there on time for her event at Heatwave departed from LaGuardia Airport later that night.
Niki didn’t say much during the first hour of their drive, but once they reached New York, she perked up and pointed out the famous landmarks she’d only seen in photos and movies. “Oh my God, that’s the Empire State Building! Look.”
He tightened his grip on the wheel as an SUV veered into his lane, barely missing the wagon’s front bumper. “I’m trying to keep us from getting killed. And by the way, I’ve seen it before. I grew up a couple of hours away.”
“I thought you hated cities.”
With a glance at the famous skyline, he shrugged. “I believe I said that I prefer the country. As cities go, New York beats Miami. At least history is valued here and buildings aren’t torn down because they’re more than ten minutes old. But the farm is where my heart is.”
“Hmm.” She remained quiet the rest of the trip, even though he sensed her awe at so much of the scenery.
A few minutes before eight, he stood in the terminal as her flight took off against the backdrop of the setting sun. He could have argued with her, refused to drive her to the airport. Maybe he should have asserted himself more, presented reasons why he thought Tristan was manipulating her. Had he made the biggest mistake of his life by not insisting she stay?
But that wasn’t him. He cared about her too much to rob her of her dream job. Niki had to follow her heart. She’d never be happy if she denied herself an opportunity that she truly wanted. He just prayed the job was all she hoped it would be.
…
“Can you stop by my place and check out the graduation gift my folks gave me?” Amy asked Niki over the phone.
Niki glanced at the clock on her dashboard. Since Amy’s apartment wasn’t far from Heatwave and she was early for the event for which she’d shortened her trip, why not? “I’ve got a few minutes. I’ll be there in ten.” With only Sarge for company that morning, she felt incredibly lonely in Grant’s house.
She’d have to get used to being without Grant, though. She thought they’d started down a path to something wonderful together, but after she’d told him she was leaving New York early, he’d cooled off considerably toward her. Even when she’d had a moment of insanity and offered to stay. Apparently, the magic they’d discovered under Mill’s Pond Bridge had withered up and died, leaving a giant hole in her heart. That had to mean he was wrong for her, that they were wrong for each other.
She shouldn’t feel guilty for not making his grandparents’ party. She’d invited herself to go along, and he’d made it clear they were just temporary.
As had she.
If he’d been her actual boyfriend, of course she would have stayed. She’d been half tempted to go back anyway, but she had to secure her future. Her Europe-bound, drama-free future.
But then why did she still feel so awful?
When Niki pulled into Amy’s complex, her friend was leaning against a shiny new Honda with a huge white bow on the hood.
Amy hugged her when she approached the car. “Can you believe this?”
“It’s beautiful,” Niki said. “Congratulations. I’m really proud of you. A Master’s in journalism, huh?”
“Took me a mini-summer session to knock out those last two credit hours while working full time, but I did it.” Amy lifted her hands high in the air. “So how was your trip? I didn’t think you were coming home until Monday.”
Niki told her about Tristan’s demand for her to return early and pretty much everything with Grant.
Amy leaned against her car and folded her arms. “Well, your boss is an ass, but I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to fall into bed with Grant. The chemistry between you two is so freaking obvious.”
Niki stiffened. “What?”
Amy rolled her eyes. “My God, Niki, you practically drool when he walks by, and he does the same when you do. I’m sure I’m not the only person who’s noticed.”
Niki reeled from Amy’s observation. “We’ve been just friends, and that’s what we’ll go back to now.”
Amy laughed. “Whatever you say. I know you better than that.”
Brushing off her friend’s comment, she reached into her purse for her keys. “I have to get to work.”
Amy touched her arm. “Hey, I’m sorry. You know I don’t pull any punches. Next time, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“It’s fine.” Niki gave her friend a hug. “Enjoy your new ride.” As she drove toward the club, she couldn’t get Amy’s words out of her head.
The chemistry between you two is so freaking obvious. I’m sure I’m not the only person who’s noticed.
Amy was mistaken. Grant was a great guy, but he was all wrong for Niki. The universe was telling her so.
When she arrived at Heatwave, she was surprised to see Tristan’s car in the parking lot. He’d probably had someone on staff drive him to the airport.
The moment she walked inside, she practically crashed into Tristan.
“Ah, welcome back, love,” he said, oblivious to her involuntary wince at his endearment. “How was Vermont?” He brushed past her as if she hadn’t interrupted her trip for him, as if it was no big deal that she’d come running back because he’d insisted he couldn’t be here. And here he was.
“I was in New York, not Vermont.” She followed him to the office. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in L.A.?”
Tristan shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk. “Oh, the property in Los Angeles fell through. Apparently a Saudi sheikh’s brother bought the whole block and plans to turn it into a strip mall. As if they need another one of those there.”
Her neck and shoulders tightened. “When did you get that news?”
Glancing up from his task, he shrugged. “Yesterday afternoon, around four-thirty or five. Why?”
Acid burned the back of her throat. Rather than answer, she left the room and headed to one of the bars.
Andre, one of the bartenders was there unpacking cartons of liquor. He glanced at Niki and stopped what he was doing. “Are you all right? Your face is all red.”
“I’m sure it is.” Climbing onto a barstool, she tried to channel the meditation guru whom she regularly listened to on the Internet, even though her mind was usually buzzing too much for her to actually meditate, but even that didn’t help. “Can I have a Coke?”
Andre filled a glass with soda and ice, and topped the drink with a lime wedge before setting it in front of her. “Need anything else? A hug maybe?”
“More like a hit man.” She took a sip, thought for a few minutes about her boss’s actions, then marched back to Tristan’s office. She refused to be his doormat.
He raised an extra-smarmy eyebrow when she entered the room. “Yes?”
“I don’t appreciate that you called me away from my vacation to come back here because you had to go to L.A. on some emergency. Then you neglected to tell me that your trip was canceled. I could have stayed in New York.” She fisted her hands at her sides. “Was it some test, Tristan? Were you merely testing my loyalty or willingness to do what you ask?”
He steepled his fingers on his desk. “Do you really think that of me? Why on earth would I make up such a thing? Need I remind you who paid for the change in your airline ticket?”
The fifty-dollar fee the discount airline charged was nothing to Tristan. She wasn’t buying his story. “Why didn’t you call me to tell me you didn’t have to leave town?”
He let out a pained sigh. “I wasn’t thinking. I feel awful for the oversight. Can you ever forgive me?”
At the moment, she didn’t think so. “I’ll assume that you can handle your friend’s event since you’re here.”
Tristan shook his head. “Not happening.”
Her face and neck were on fire. “Excuse me?”
“No, it is happening, but not tonight. Emmett switched to tomorrow evening.” He swiveled his seat toward his computer and hit a few keys.
Even though she’d never had a blood pressure issue, she could feel her pulse pounding at her temples. “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
He met her stare, held it for a long moment. “I suppose I owe you that much, probably more. But we have a hundred people coming tomorrow night for a corporate party. Do you think it wise to leave early today?”
“I sure do. Technically, I’m still on vacation.” If she didn’t, she might say something she’d regret. She strode from the office with every intention of going home. Too bad Grant wasn’t there to talk to. In his absence, she’d have to settle for an ice cream sundae. Or a stiff drink. Maybe both.
“Niki!” Tristan called sharply.
Although she wanted to keep going, she stopped, took a moment to school the irritation from her expression then turned to face him. “Yes?”
“I really am sorry, love.” His expression was contrite. “But remember about the London job. Those who advance in this company tend to go the extra mile. We’re only a couple of weeks away from July Fourth. That’s your opportunity to really shine.”
“Yes, Tristan,” she ground out.
“Please make sure the VIP lounge is in tip-top shape before you leave today. If anything needs touching up, I want to know tonight, not an hour before guests begin arriving tomorrow.”
She tamped down her irritation and nodded. “May I ask a question?”
“Yes?”
Her heart pounded, but it was as if some evil force had taken over her mouth, and she couldn’t hold her tongue. “I had no idea you were looking to expand to the Los Angeles market. Did that property just suddenly come available and give you the idea to open a club there, or was that something you’ve been thinking about for a while?”
His forehead crinkled as he eyed her. Without answering her question, he retreated to the office.
Had she gone too far? Messed up her chances of going to London? As long as she killed the July Fourth event and showed Tristan that her work was top notch in the meantime, she felt confident that he’d still give her the job.
After spending the next two hours meticulously going over the VIP lounge and checking that the florist and caterer were on track for the following day, Niki left the club.
Since her flight had arrived so late the night before, she hadn’t bothered to check the mail when she’d gotten home. Before going inside, she stopped at the mailbox and separated Grant’s from hers. As she was about to open the door, she noticed an envelope stuffed halfway under the door. She caught the edge of it, pulled it out, and inspected it. Someone had handwritten in scroll-y, clearly feminine penmanship the name Grant.
She turned it over and gasped when she saw the engraved return address on the flap—Carrie Caulder. Had to be that Carrie. And the flap was barely sealed, only sticking at the bottom edge of the V. None of my business.
She sat on the porch step and stared at the letter.
Don’t do it.
Why would Grant’s ex be contacting him? What if her marriage had fallen apart and she wanted to rekindle things with him?
No, she’d call him, or come see him in person. Had to be something else. But what?
Niki studied the flowery handwriting, the extra loops on the G. So pretentious. Almost flirty.
She turned over the envelope again, eased her finger under the flap. Technically it wasn’t mail; it hadn’t been in the mailbox. But she knew it was for Grant, so it was still wrong.
Her phone buzzed. The noise caused her to startle and pull her hand back, ripping the flap apart as she did. Oh God. She tried to reseal it, but it was impossible. It looked like a two-year-old had gotten hold of it. Now what was she going to do? Grant would think she’d purposely torn the envelope.
Heart pounding, she held the envelope up to the porch light and was able to make out a few bolded words. “Residential Contract for Sale and Purchase,” she read aloud. They’d sold the house. Grant would be leaving soon.
A fat tear rolled down her cheek. She immediately wiped it away. After all, she had no right to that. She and Grant had been clear from the get-go where they stood with each other. Despite their amazing night of intimacy, he’d pulled back after, so he obviously hadn’t felt the same things she had. The two of them weren’t meant to be. How many times did the universe have to send her that message for it to get through her skull?
So why did she feel as if her heart was being crushed in an emotional vise?
The sound of kids laughing pulled her attention toward the sidewalk. A family walked past, the parents waving at her.
She passed on a smile, gathered the mail up, and unlocked the door. Geez, she still had tears rolling down her face.
Those people must think I’m an idiot.
She fished in her purse for a tissue and dropped all the mail on the threshold. That’s when the tears began in earnest. What was wrong with her?
Her phone buzzed again. She checked the display. Two texts from Tristan. Rolling her eyes, she hit the message button.
Call me right away.
Hmm. That didn’t sound good. Despite still being angry with him, she wasn’t in a position to lose her job. Before she went inside, she phoned him.
Tristan answered on the first ring. “Ah, Niki. Thank God.”
His tone worried her. “Is everything okay?”
“Heavens, no. It’s the party tomorrow. Emmett misrepresented what the whole thing was all about.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed. “This is a media event for his company, but he hasn’t invited near enough people. He wants this place filled to the brim. There will be camera crews galore, and they want it to look like a packed house. I need you to invite everyone you know. Please don’t let me down, Niki. And get here early tomorrow afternoon so we can work on this.”
She gritted her teeth. “Fine.” Great. Tristan’s screw-up meant extra work for her.
She pushed open the door and remembered that she’d somehow have to explain the ripped-open envelope to Grant, who’d be home the next day.
Between worrying about Grant and thinking about the event at work the next day, her head was spinning. When she returned to the house, she was about to shut the door when a streak of orange went racing past her and outside.
Sarge! “No. Sarge, come back here!” Dropping her purse on the floor, she took off after him. How could such an old cat move so fast?
He disappeared into the bushes. She made that cat-calling sound she’d heard Grant use to get Sarge to come to him, but the feline ignored her. Then she remembered that Grant kept cat treats in the kitchen.
Dare she leave him for the time it would take to go fetch the packet? She crouched in front of the hedges searching for a glimpse of orange fur. The light was fading, and he was only going to get more difficult to spot.
Why weren’t there any neighbors around? Grant was forever helping out the old woman across the street and the elderly couple on the corner. Where was karma when she needed it?
For that matter, where was Sarge? She still didn’t see him. Yanking her shoes off, she called him again. “Sarge, here, boy. Come here.”
Nothing. Holding aside the hedges, she pushed through the bushes but found nothing. Sharp twigs cut into her skin, but she didn’t care. The only thing that mattered at the moment was getting to Sarge. Grant was going to kill her. When he found out about her opening his mail, too, lord, he’d never speak to her again. And could she blame him?
She ran inside the house, grabbed the cat treats and her cell, then returned to the hedges where she’d last seen Sarge. Shaking the pouch as she’d watched Grant do many times before, she walked the perimeter of the house, calling the feline’s name. When she got no response, the gravity of the situation hit her.
I’ve lost the pet Grant loves. He’s going to hate me forever.
But she couldn’t give up. She was going to find Sarge and bring him home, even if it took her all night. She scratched at the cuts on her arms and swatted away mosquitoes and gnats.
After an hour, it was pitch black out and there was still no sign of the cat. Time to call in the big guns. She phoned Amy and then Lucy, who both arrived within thirty minutes, bearing flashlights, bug repellant, and more cat treats.
Lucy handed Niki socks and sneakers to change into. “Dex is in the middle of helping a client with an audit or else he’d be here, too.”
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you two coming,” Niki told her as she slipped on the shoes.
Amy sprayed her ankles with mosquito repellant. “If my Roxy was out there, I know you’d help me find her.”
“I would,” Niki assured her. She prayed that having a bona fide cat lover on her team would make the difference.
But by two in the morning—after scouring the entire subdivision and the surrounding area—they still hadn’t found Sarge. The women returned to Grant’s house and sat on the front steps.
Niki wiped a sweat-soaked lock of hair off her forehead. “What if something’s happened to Sarge?” She shuddered.
Amy put her arm around Niki’s shoulder. “Don’t think that way. He’ll probably come back home on his own. That’s what Roxy did the one time she got out.”
“Really?” Niki allowed herself a glimmer of hope. “How long was she missing?”
Amy glanced at Lucy then frowned. “Two or three hours.”
Niki buried her face in her hands and groaned. “Grant loves that cat so much. I’ve grown to like the little bugger myself even though we got off to a rocky start.” She hadn’t realized just how much she loved Sarge until that night, but if he didn’t return home, she’d be devastated.
Lucy squeezed her hand. “I’m sure he’ll be back before Grant comes home tomorrow. Everything’s going to be fine.” Her sister gave her a tight hug.
Niki nodded, but she doubted things would be all right. Just before her sister and Amy left, Niki took Amy’s advice and checked the county’s animal services website. “No cats matching Sarge’s description have been turned in or picked up,” she told Amy.
“There’s a link on there where you can file a report, so if Sarge shows up, they’ll call you.”
Niki tried to be hopeful as she filled out the form. When she was finished, she told her friend about accidentally tearing Grant’s letter and peeking at what it said.
“Yikes.” Amy scratched her head. “What are you going to do?”
Niki let out a sigh. “Apologize for being an irresponsible snoop.”
Glancing at her cell phone, she remembered her conversation with Tristan. How was she supposed to think about work when she’d screwed up so royally with Grant? But she had no choice. Losing her job would be catastrophic.
Since she was already on her laptop, she quickly sent off an email to her friends and family, asking them to come to Heatwave for Tristan’s client’s event that night. Perhaps the lure of free food might entice a few to show up. Or maybe they’d do it just to help her out.
Not that she deserved anyone’s affection at the moment. She felt like the lowest of the low. Knowing that Grant’s house would be sold soon and he’d be gone made her even more depressed.
She lay back on the sofa, threw her arm over her face, and wallowed in her misery. “Damn good thing I’ll probably be moving soon. In fact, maybe I should get out now before Grant finds out what I’ve done.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Amy twisted her blond hair into a bun and used the ponytail holder she kept perpetually around her wrist to cinch it up. “Okay, enough of this self-pity. You’re stronger than this, Niki. Go wash your face. You’ve got mascara running down your cheeks. It’s time to get your shit together and face the music.”
Niki gulped. “You mean…”
Amy nodded. “Call Grant.”
“But it’s four in the morning.”
Amy widened her eyes. “Oh. Well, I guess you can wait a little while. Geez. I have a job interview at nine-thirty this morning.”
A lump formed in Niki’s throat. “I’m so sorry. You’d better go home and get some sleep.”
Amy waved away her concern. “How many all-nighters did we pull in college? I’ll be fine.” She drew Niki into a hug, then after a few seconds, held her at arms’ length. “So will you. You don’t have to go into the Witness Protection Program or go on the lam or anything. Sarge is going to turn up and be fine.”
But Niki wasn’t so confident. She could only hope that the past few hours weren’t the beginning of a downward spiral that had the potential to knock her life plan completely out of whack. She wiped away a few tears that she realized were for Sarge. She prayed the little guy was okay, wherever he was.