Page 3 of His Wild Attraction

I didn’t want that for any of the kind people there who’d been so helpful to me. I was getting ready to leave, though I didn’t know where I’d go, when Meredith offered me use of this place.

We were the first residents, and I couldn’t be more grateful to her.

The friendship that had sprouted between us, and her friends Sofia and Destiny Volkov, was as unlikely as the sky turning pink, but it had happened.

Somehow, some way, those three women had gently brought Sammy and me into their group, and I was constantly amazed. I mean, I never had girlfriends like them.

Sammy was supposed to start preschool this year, he’d be four in a few months. But with everything that happened, well, I’d been too terrified about sending him where Gary could get him.

With Meredith, Sofia, and Destiny, not to mention the latter two’s children, in our lives, I had to admit my shy boy was thriving. Even their husbands made an effort to speak kindly to my son, and they often bought toys and played with the children whenever we had one of our Sourdough Sunday lunches.

Funny how living in a million dollar condo in Manhattan never made him smile. But move him to a couple of small rooms in Morristown, where he could finally have a kitten of his own and, well, my boy had been smiling nonstop.

“Meow.”

Grrr.

Back to Rocky. So, as I was saying, scoop daily, and change the litter every eight days. He was only eight pounds, but he was gaining weight.

Anyway, he must not have been happy with the state of his box this evening, so he found some place else to do his business.

I growled, hopping to the sink where I lifted my foot and grabbed some flushable wipes.

Apparently, Rocky, though picky about pooping in his box when his litter wasn’t fresh, wasn’t above dropping a deuce inside the pile of clothes I left on the bathroom floor after Sammy’s bath time.

Ugh.

After I wiped the chunky part off, I scrubbed my heel with a handful of ivory and rinsed, repeating the process six times before I felt clean enough.

The good news was, the clothes were relatively unblemished, since the turds were hard and dry.

Not hard enough to withstand being squished by my fat ass when I stepped on one, but hard enough that the laundry could sit after being spritzed with stain remover until tomorrow.

Anyway, I blamed the cat shit for why I did what I did tonight.

It had to be the cat shit.

CHAPTER TWO ELLIE

An hour prior to the cat poop incident

I couldn’t get him out of my head.

It was wrong.

Ridiculous.

Pathetic, even.

I thought I was done mooning over this man. This sexy as hell stranger who had more muscles than anyone needed, sexy, tribal tattoos covering his biceps, a killer mouth, and stormy bedroom eyes.

Fuck.

I should never have let him touch me.

Was he the one who touched you? My inner bitch snarked.

Shut up.

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