Page 1 of Lane's Lost Kitten

Chapter One

Lane

Moving sucked.

There were no two ways about it. It full-on sucked. You could sugarcoat it as an exciting new adventure or a new beginning or moving up, but at the end of the day, there was nothing fun about packing up everything you own. And, if that was the entirety of it, it might be worth it. It wasn’t though.

After all my boxes were ready, I got to load them into a vehicle in the most unfun version of Tetris ever. And as an added bonus? The rental trailer was not only too small to hold everything, it was a pain to navigate for the hours and hours of driving needed to arrive at our destination only to unpack it again. All of that? It was only the first half of the task at hand.

Somehow, I convinced myself that this was a grand idea, for the best, that I’d be happy that I did it. And maybe all of that was true, but after getting everything into the trailer and driving for hours, I was too beat to be optimistic.

It was true that the opportunities here were better than in my old town. That, I couldn’t deny. My new job was a couple of steps up from the one I’d just left. I’d been there for five years and had been all but told I’d hit my ceiling. Staying there, I’d never have reached my entry level at this company.

And honestly, I needed some distance from my ex. After we broke up, we continued to share our apartment, saying it would only be until we had better jobs and could afford places of our own. And maybe that would’ve been fine if either of us were on track for a promotion, which we weren’t. In hindsight, it was probably the dumbest idea I’d ever had. We were exes for a reason and, while we could still be friends in a distant sort of way, there was no distance when you shared a bathroom. None.

We had been barely scraping by. Our choice hadn’t been based on either of us trying to remain close to each other in the hopes we’d get back together. Our breakup was shitty, but not because he was a dick or anything. We just weren’t compatible. It would’ve been better if he was an asshat…easier anyway.

It had taken a long-ass time for me to figure out that he was never going to accept me for who I was and what I needed. But once I did, there was no turning back. Maybe that was why I thought living with him would be bearable, would be fine. That was me being a fool.

It wasn’t fine, and I couldn’t handle it, but that ended up being the kick in the ass that got me actively looking for jobs and eventually out of the apartment, ready for a brand-new start.

This was my brand-new start, not ours. It was freeing and terrifying wrapped up in a ball. I didn’t know anybody in a city. Heck, I knew nothing about it. I hadn’t even visited. Everything from my interviews to my lease signing had been virtual.

So much relief flooded through me when I pulled into my new neighborhood. It was clean, the buildings kept up well, and easy to get to.

I left my car parked in the loading zone and went to my apartment 1A, where my landlord was going to be waiting with my key. All the paperwork had been finalized and done online, and actually, it had been quite easy, which was great after the horror stories I’d heard about. When I first started to research places to live here, there were videos warning of price gouging and bait-and-switch and fees equaling over $10k just to walk in the door.

None of that had been true here. The building was owner occupied, which was huge. Slumlords didn’t live where they scammed people in subpar living conditions. They lived in the mansions those people paid for. And the rent? So reasonable I initially thought the listing had an error.

The building wasn’t something you’d see on the cover of a fancy magazine, but it was nice enough. Best of all, it was ready and waiting for me.

I’d raised my hand to knock when the door opened. The man standing there with a bag of garbage in his hand, nearly took my breath away. That was the absolute last thing I needed. He was supposed to be a grumpy old guy, not some hotty. Those were the rules. Fine, I made up the rules, but still… I shouldn’t be looking at my landlord as a lollipop to be licked. I shouldn’t be looking at him at all, really. But there I was, doing exactly that.

“New guy?”

I nodded.

“Let me dump this, and I’ll grab your keys and show you to your apartment.”

And because I was me, I watched him walk down the hall.

A few minutes later, he was back to escort me. Nice for a small place at the price point I was paying anyway. Best of all, there were no surprises. Everything was exactly like the pictures I’d been shown.

“Do you need some help bringing your things in?”

“No, I got it,” I said. Not really, but what was I gonna do? Say, Oh yeah, you’re my servant. Please help me move. Then you can evict me at the end of the month, which was completely not fair. He didn’t give off those kinds of vibes at all. But I was in a frazzled state, and when I was like that, I tended to jump to conclusions like that.

“How about I help you anyway?”

The way he said it hinted at him being a daddy, but I’d learned my lesson about projecting daddyness on someone just because they were nice, and I wanted to see it. I wasn’t going down that road again, especially not with my landlord, of all people.

Maybe he was a daddy, but what did that matter? I wasn’t looking for one, and I definitely wasn’t looking for one here—where I lived. What was it they said about not shitting where you eat? Yeah, that was me. I was not going there. Didn’t matter that he had an ass that belonged on underwear billboards, or eyes that sparkled in the sun as we walked outside, or a little cleft on his chin I longed to nibble.

Nope.

Wasn’t going there.

“Okay,” I conceded. I was fairly confident this man could ask me to do anything, and I would. Those eyes paired with that cleft…they were dangerous.

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