Page 65 of Dropping the Ball

“I am.” She keeps her voice soothing. “Daisy, I’m safe. You can let him go.” She lifts a hand to pet her. Daisy doesn’t move, but I grunt as she retracts her claws.

“Be still, Micah,” Kaitlyn says in the exact same tone she used on Daisy. “I’ll have her off you in a second. Won’t I, sweet girl? Katie is fine. See that I’m fine? I’m scratching her. Her tail is down. I’ve almost got her,” she narrates in that soothing tone.

I lower from the plank I’ve been holding, Daisy staying put, until after offering a few more scritches, Kaitlyn scoops up the cat and nuzzles her, reassuring her she’s the best watchcat ever.

I sit up and eye Daisy.

“You okay?” Kaitlyn asks.

“Yeah. You?”

She buries her face in Daisy’s neck to stall on an answer, but Daisy decides she’s done being worshipped and wiggles to get down. Kaitlyn lets her go, but instead of coming back to the sofa, she sits on the stool instead. Her temples are damp, the color in her cheeks high, and her hair is wrecked. I do good work.

“So,” I say.

“So,” she agrees. “What happens next?”

“Neither of us has to work tomorrow, so let’s make out all day.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles. “Be serious.”

“I’m dead serious.”

She sucks her teeth. “Not your worst idea.”

“That’s why I was valedictorian.”

She dives for me, and I catch her, deflecting the blows from the throw pillow she snatches up, laughing as I try to situate her in my lap.

She twists so she’s on my lap but facing me, sitting on my knees, hers pinning my legs together so I lose leverage.

“Keep still while I beat you around your head and neck,” she orders.

“I’ll settleyoudown.” I yank her by the hips until she’s wedged against me before I loosen my hold and smile up at her. She drops the pillow and lets her hands fall to my shoulders, looking right back.

“What am I going to do with you?” I ask.

“That’s exactly the reason I called this couch meeting.”

I snort. “Glad most of my meetings aren’t like this, or I’d never get anything done.”

Our smiles fade as our eyes connect.

“Your eyes have gold flecks,” she says, her voice soft. “I feel like I’ve found a new secret about you.”

I watch her back, wondering what she’s seeing in me besides the flecks. She curls to rest her forehead on my shoulder.

“I don’t know what to do next,” she says. It’s barely a murmur.

“Does there need to be a plan?”

“The only plan that will work is doing nothing. I can’t date you.”

I go still for several seconds, hating the way those words hollow out my insides. Finally, I sigh. “Is this because I am the poor son of an unmarried village woman with no prospects and I’m still making payments on my truck?”

She gives my abs a light pinch. “There’s not much to grab here.” She pats the spot, interested in this discovery, but when the pat turns to a light stroke, she balls her fists and rolls off me to sit beside me instead.

I drop my head back against the cushions, waiting for the inevitable.

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