Page 92 of Texting Dr. Stalker

Ten minutes to get my head on straight and not look as run over as I felt before I reclaimed the kitten.

Striding toward my front door, I flinched as Sailor opened hers and waved.

Shewaved.

She approached me with the kitten in the crook of her arm, her eyes soft and tentatively happy instead of blank and strained.

She was absolutely beautiful in a linen dress with spaghetti straps. The off-white material kissed her bare feet and hugged all her slender curves. The cat watched me smugly as if knowing exactly where my mind had gone.

“Hi,” she said softly.

I almost fell flat on my face.

My fingers strayed to my glasses, pushing them higher up my nose in case I was seeing things.

“Did you have a good day at work, Zander?”

I staggered a little. “Y-You’re not calling me Alexander anymore.”

Hefting the kitten a little higher, she attempted a smile, but it still came out like a grimace. “It was rude of me to keep calling you by a name you have never gone by, even if it is technically your name. I guess I was using it to keep distance between us.”

I needed to wash my ears out.

What is happening?

After decades of avoiding me, why was she suddenly talking to me?

The back of my neck prickled. I raked a hand through my hair, needing to reboot my brain because she’d successfully short-circuited it. “Eh…it’s fine.”

You’re a fool, Zander North.

Her smile became genuine as she looked at the orange puff ball in her arms. “I’ve fed him three times. He’s a glutton. He’s also made my pillow his bed and is a terrible helper in the kitchen, but he’s freaking adorable.”

I held out my hand. “Thanks so much for looking after him for the day. I’ll take him back so you can get some rest.”

“Oh.” She tensed and stepped away. Her eyes flickered with tension as she dared look at me. “Are you still planning on dropping him off at the shelter?”

I nodded. “Not right now, seeing as it’s Sunday night, but yes. Tomorrow, I’ll take him. I have an afternoon shift so I can do it in the morning.”

“Oh.”

That word again. A sad little word full of unsaid things.

I dropped my hand slowly. “Is everything okay?”

Sniffing, she nodded and went to pass over the kitten. “Yes, of course. Um…I’ll have to grab all the food you gave me. Oh, and I named him.”

My hand went back up, ready to scoop the tiny cat. I stepped into her.

Goosebumps scattered down my arms, matching the flush hitting hers. I couldn’t take my eyes off the fine hair on her forearms reacting the same way mine did.

What did that mean?

Goosebumps could be a fear response or reaction to pleasant stimuli.

Was she seeing past the pain of Milton and remembering who I truly was?

And why did that bring a spike of jealousy?

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