Page 14 of Never Say Yes To Your Boss

Everleigh was waiting for me, and she lifted the dome on her plate at the same time. “It feels so medieval, doing this. I know it’s to keep the food warm, but it’s kind of weird. And I guess kind of awesome.”

I set the metal dome aside and pick up my knife, but just like last night, my muscles are cramped, and my shoulder is screaming a big hell no. I didn’t do my exercises this morning because I was busy answering email after email, and I’m paying the price now.

I pick at the potato while Everleigh digs into the huge pork chop. It’s a bone-in beast, and it takes up more than half of the huge plate. She cuts it all into small pieces and then wordlessly, without warning, slides her plate across to me. She stabs my pork chop with her fork and lifts it up before dumping the cut-up meat onto my plate with her finger.

My god, I hate that after one day, she can tell when I’m in serious need of assistance because my arm is being an asshole. It’s so fucking embarrassing. I didn’t even have to say anything. I feel a little bit wrecked by it, but before I can start stewing in self-pity and hurt pride because who the hell can’t cut his own meat, Everleigh points down at her lap and makes a whistling sound as she does it.

“How are your male friends today?”

“I’m not sure I have many friends.”

She does that pointing, whistling motion again, and I finally get it. She’s pointing at nuts, which she obviously doesn’t have. She means mine.

“Oh! That.” I can’t look at her, but then I do because she probably feels terrible, and I don’t want her to think I’m lying. “Nothing a bag of frozen peas and a cup of mint tea couldn’t fix.”

“Ooh, that’s quite a combination. Tell me your secret.”

“My secret? Oh. The mint tea was just to settle my stomach down. I was pretty nauseated for a while after. But other than that, they’ve quite recovered.”

“I’m so sorry. I was worried I’d done permanent damage.” She pauses, then starts cutting into the pork chop she traded me for. “Let’s change the subject. I was talking with my mom and sister today, and they had the craziest story. Apparently, they had a real-life cat burglar.”

“What?” I nearly drop my fork in shock. “That’s terrible! Did they call the police? I’ll have someone go there right away. I’ll hire someone to watch the house, and if they need anything…”

Everleigh’s face softens, and I can read the emotion there. She’s touched. Maybe a little confused. She doesn’t realize yet that her problems are my problems because I’m a guy who keeps my promises, and we’re legally married right now and will be for the next half a year. “No, sorry, I meant a real cat burglar. Not a person. A cat. This stray apparently got under the skirting of the house and found a way in through the venting under there or a nook or cranny or something. After…well, a long time ago, we sold the house we grew up in, and we bought this place, but it’s not the best. Alright, so it was cheaper than an apartment, and we could build up the value instead of throwing the money away on a rental, which is why we bought it, but it needs some major help. My mom has the water heater closet door taken down right now because it was leaking. She was fiddling around with it, trying to fix it, and he came up through there. Heather and my mom were sitting on the couch watching a movie, and all of a sudden, this stray cat went tearing through the house. He’s wild as hell and totally unkempt, but they’re going to leavefood for him and try and calm him down. They’re both full of grand dreams for this cat now that he’s made himself known by breaking in.”

I can’t hide it. I’m bloody well entertained by this story. Bloody well is a phrase that Hans often uses. He likes to take idioms from different parts of the world and blend them into his everyday speech, along with his choice of using different accents. I swear, I could have hired someone boring, but lucky for me, Hans came along instead.

“That’s quite a thing. Hopefully, he doesn’t start bringing gifts. Gifts like dismembered mice, headless mice, and bodiless mice that are just heads and whatnot.”

“I thought about that too. Mom is extra careful about keeping things clean for Heather right now because her treatments will probably do a number on her immune system, so she was mopping the floor and vacuuming right after, but Heather didn’t seem too concerned about it.”

“That’s good to hear, at least.”

“My mom, after I talked to her last night, quit the one job that was killing her. This is the first time she and Heather have spent an afternoon together in I don’t know how long. And…and that’s all you. Thank you for that.”

I don’t get a lot of gratitude aimed my way very often, compliments of being the one who has to make all the hard decisions and also generally being behind the scenes. Most people don’t know that it’s not Bradford pulling the strings. It’s me. I’m the puppet master for real. Everleigh throws her whole self into it, though, and when she beams at me, my heart does another stutter hiccup in my chest.

“You’re not what I expected, you know.” She saves me from having to respond to praise that I’m totally unequipped to deal with.

I tilt my brows at an angle and stop mid-jab in spearing some asparagus. “How so? Should I be dark and broody? Stalk the corridors at night? Stick to the shadows? Howl at the moon a little when it’s full, which I guess was last night? If it’s the black sheep thing, everyone just started calling me that, and it’s mostly because I live in this place alone, and I’m a recluse. People get weird ideas about you when you don’t leave the house that often. If you’ve heard two-headed, hairy-toed monster rumors, then I apologize.”

She fights to keep her smile down. She pretends to be serious, but her eyes are twinkling away. “Are your toes hairy, Darius?”

“I mean, probably. There has to be a stray hair or two down there somewhere.”

Something dings, and Everleigh shifts, pulling out her phone. She’s frowning as she does it, a knee-jerk reaction, probably because she’s used to getting bad news and having to deal with it on her own, but then she grins. “Oh my god.” She whips the phone around to me. “This is getting out of control. Look at this.” I’m looking at a photo of a large cat post, a set of dishes, a litter box, and a stack of toys. “They went out and got all of this. I told you, it’s already gone too far. Heather always wanted a pet, but we really couldn’t afford one before.”

“So she’s adopting a mangy cat?”

“Looks that way. If he comes back. Because who knows? He might not. But if he really is a stray, and he’s hungry and they’re leaving food out, chances are, he’ll be back. He can come and go as he pleases. Don’t people say you never really own a cat? They own you. Or that they choose you or something.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a cat.”

“Did you have any pets growing up?”

“A snake.”

“Ahh. So you’re the unconventional type. I like it. Snakes are super cool.”

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