Page 92 of Love Me Tomorrow

Owen is going to kill me for this.

Hooking my purse strap over my shoulder, I fumble for my keys and then insert them in the lock. All it takes is the creak of the door opening for Pablo to fly off the cushioned window seat like he’s Superman in training. Ignoring the chance to escape into the wide-open world, he hightails it after me.

I give him a firm side-eye as I head down the length of my traditionally shotgun-styled house for the master bedroom. “If you scratch him, your feather toys will be thrown in the trash.”

Pablo meows and slinks between my legs.

“In fact, be prepared to saysayonarato the mouse squeaker too.”

My cat’s only response is to pounce on one of the stray plastic bottle caps that I keep around the house because he adores them so much.

Figures.

My Carrollton neighborhood shotgun dates back to the 1870s. It’s modestly sized, artfully decorated—thanks to me—and has approximatelyzerocloset space. Old houses, you have to love them. Opening the only closet door in my home, I stand on my toes and grasp the cat backpack from the top shelf.

The eggshell blue, astronaut-themed backpack started off as a gag joke from Amelie when I first adopted Pablo. The pet carrier’s front piece is a hard, plastic shell equipped with a stereotypical space capsule window that I can remove when needed, and breathable mesh material for the back and sides. It’s absolutely ridiculous looking, but far be it from me not to use a gift, gag or otherwise.

Plus, Pablo is always up for an adventure.

Unzipping it, I step back and motion for him to get in. “You want to come? Let’s go.”

Pablo doesn’t need to be told twice.

He launches himself into the backpack, perfectly content to go for a ride, and I leave it unzipped so he can look around while we wait.

I’m just stepping out onto the porch when I spot Owen coming up my front walkway, looking hotter than any man has the right to look. Hungrily, my gaze tracks him from south to north: casual flip-flops on his feet; black board shorts that reveal just the slightest glimpse of his muscular thighs; a crisp, white T-shirt that makes my mouth water, when paired against his tattooed arms. On his head, he’s rocking a navy-blue baseball cap pulled down low, and I’d be lying if I say my core doesn’t tighten at the sight of him.

He looks laidback and sexy and, oh man, but I really hope our date will reconvene later at my house or his house orsomewherewith a flat surface that can be used for other, more X-rated activities. The sort that has me crying out his name. Thehow’sof it all, I’ll leave up to fate. When it comes to having sex with Owen, I’ve come to realize that I’m not particular in the slightest.

Only, when Owen hits the first step leading up to my porch, he visibly freezes, one foot planted on the second rung. A second passes, then another, and then he’s reaching for that navy-blue ball cap and twisting it around, so that it sits backward on his head. His black eyes are fixed on the cat carrier like his worst nightmare has manifested before him. “What the hell is that?”

“Oh, this?” I lift the backpack innocently, cradling it in my arms. “Pablo wanted to come with us.”

Owen’s brows furrow. “I’m sorry, did you just say that Pablo wanted—”

At hearing his name, my cat pops his head out of the backpack, and sure enough, Owen’s first response is to point a finger and grunt, “Fuck no.”

“But he’s ready for an adventure.”

“The only adventure he’s about to partake in is finding his furry little ass locked back in your house.”

I look from my pet to my boyfriend—ishe my boyfriend? Tough call. I’d like to say yes but we haven’t even traipsed down that road of conversation yet.Hopefully soon. “I think y’all need to bond. Find some common ground. You could be a cat man, if only you just let it happen.”

He grabs the bill of his ballcap, lifting the hat and then resettling it on his head, as though he’s trying to buy some time before answering. “Savannah?”

I take a step toward him. “Yes, Owen?”

“You owe me big time.”

I grin, hard. “Is that a yes, then?”

“It’s a,we’re both going to regret this lateryes. Get in the truck.”

“You are amazing!” Planting a kiss on his cheek, I promise, “I won’t regret a thing.”

Twenty minutes later,I’ve already broken my promise.

I regret it all.

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