The Love Wager (Mr. Wrong Number, #2)(32)

“I always wanted a cat.” He could almost hear her shrug when she said, “And if you can handle having a cat, I’m certain I can.”

Jack looked down at Meowgi, asleep on his lap.

“Fine,” he said, not hating the idea of hanging with Hallie before work. He always got up at five thirty to run, so he would’ve been up early, regardless. “I’ll pick you up at seven. I need coffee before this whole thing.”

“You delightful boy,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I’ll have Ruthie meet us at the shelter, because you don’t want her riding in your car. It’s impossible to get the smell out.”

“Oh, God,” he said, so curious about her former roommate. “What smell?”

“It’s like a mix between patchouli, onions, and vanilla.”

“Care to explain?”

“I can’t.” It sounded like she was moving around when she said, “She’s smelled like that since the day I met her. And I know for a fact that she takes at least three showers a day, so it isn’t body odor.”

“I am terrified and thrilled to finally meet your Ruthie.”

“I am thrilled and terrified, as well. Sweet dreams, Jack.”

“Sweet dreams to you, TB.”





Chapter

TWELVE





“Come on, Jack,” Hallie said, grinning from where she was sitting on the floor with an enormous orange tabby on her lap. “Ruthie’s right. You have to see if you two pass the friend compatibility test.”

It was asinine. The entire visit had been absolutely asinine so far, and his abs hurt like he’d just left the gym because he’d been laughing so damn hard.

Ruthie, Hallie’s beautiful bald friend who was wearing what looked to be a pirate’s shirt and booty shorts (with her Docs, of course), had insisted that whatever cat Hallie selected had to elicit emotions from all three of them.

Hallie fell instantly in love with the fattest old cat she’d ever seen, and when she’d put him on her lap, it’d seemed like fate. The cat started purring and pushing his face into her hand and holy shit, it seemed like Hallie had found her animal.

Then batshit-crazy Ruthie made her statement about the friend compatibility test, and she’d taken the cat from Hallie. The second she cradled him in her arms, he’d lifted one of his mammoth paws and delivered a three-punch smackdown right to her forehead.

Jack had laughed his ass off.

But Ruthie hadn’t let the cat go. She’d professed that she loved his energy and was drawn to his passion, so she sat there while the thing smacked her two more times and then bolted for the door.

Then the girl started sneezing because she was allergic, and once Hallie got the cat back in her arms, he settled right down and went back to purring.

“Come sit down right next to little Hallie,” Hallie crooned, patting the floor beside her. “I want to see if he kicks your ass or not.”

There was something about her face when she was being a smartass. Hallie’s eyes almost twinkled, and he imagined that’s exactly what she’d looked like as a pain-in-the-ass little kid.

“He’s not going to kick my ass,” he proclaimed as he walked over and dropped to the floor beside her. “Because I won’t let him.”

“I’m going to go get some air,” Ruthie said.

Jack looked up at her, and the girl was so scrawny and childlike in her weirdness that he felt somehow protective of her. “Do you want me to go with you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Look at you, Prince Charming, so scared of a cat ass-whooping that you’re going to accompany me to the parking lot. Bugger off.”

“You bugger off, Ruthie,” he replied, which made her burst into her wildly out-of-control laughter as she exited the room.

“Oh, my God—she loves you, Jack,” Hallie said with a grin as she petted the beast. “I’ve never seen Ruthie so sweet to a guy before.”

He gave her side-eye and ran a hand over the cat’s back. “The first thing she said to me was ‘Your car is a symbol of everything that’s wrong with our world.’?”

Hallie laughed. “But then what did she say?”

“That at least it didn’t have fuckwit vanity plates . . . ?”

“See? That little aside means she forgives your capitalistic nature.”

“Oh, thank God.” He laughed, and over the smell of animal, he could smell her perfume. He wasn’t sure what she wore, but it always drifted into his awareness in the same way he could always sniff out barbecue when he walked into a restaurant.

“I can’t believe you have an Audi and a truck, by the way,” she said, her forehead crinkling. “You must be really good at landscraping.”

“Did you just say landscraping?”

She rolled her eyes and nodded. “I swear I’m sober.”

He reached out a hand and scratched the cat’s huge head. “I should hope so—it’s seven thirty in the morning.”

“Wanna hold him?”

“After witnessing Ruthie’s beatdown?” He looked at her upturned face and fought the urge to trace the line of freckles on her cheek. “No, thanks.”

“Chicken.”