Page 26 of Crash and Burn
Or at least, that was what I forced myself to believe.
8
"Hey!" I protested. "That's my potato."
Grant brandished his fork with the chunk of root vegetable he'd stealthily swiped from my plate.
"I'm doing you a favor," he said before shoving the forkful of food in his mouth.
"And exactly how is stealing my potato a favor?" I asked.
He finished chewing and swallowed before answering.
"Because if you eat all those potatoes you'll be too full to eat the baklava for dessert," he said, as if that was a reasonable excuse for food-stealing.
It was true the food portions were huge at this place, and I was already starting to feel a little stuffed after eating only half my meal, but I made a face at him anyway.
"You're a jerk," I complained.
"But you love me anyway," he grinned.
My heart stuttered.
I knew what he'd meant. I knew he only said the L-word in a best-friend kind of way. Knowing that fact did nothing to stop the butterflies from flapping madly around in my stomach.
I took a bite of food and chewed slowly, hoping he'd say something else before I would be expected to reply.
"How's Mittens?" he asked.
I gave a silent thanks for the change in topic.
"She's still a little demon," I replied. "She's started screeching at me when I'm trying to sleep if a single piece of kibble falls into her water dish."
"A lot of people don't like it when their food touches, either," he pointed out.
"She's the one who puts it there!" I griped. "She plays with her food and paws at the kibble until it tips over the rim of the dish and falls into her water."
"At least she's not still knocking cups off the table, right?" Grant asked.
"She's grown out of that, at least," I said. "The cups broke a few times and the sound of shattering glass scared her off."
"Do you ever think about getting a second cat to keep her company?" Grant asked.
"I've already got one evil cat," I replied. "I don't want to risk ending up with two. The shelter might be cursed. They might only give out demons in the shape of animals."
Grant chuckled.
"You're too hard on the poor thing," he said.
"She purposely sits on my work table and gets her fur all over the clothes I'm sewing," I said. "I've shooed her off a hundred times, but it seems like next to the sewing machine is her new favorite napping spot."
"Maybe she just wants to be closer to you," Grant replied. "She wants to watch the artist at work."
"Speaking of art, how's that going for you?" I asked. "Have you been able to find the time to work on anything for yourself?"
Grant leaned over the table excitedly, his face lighting up.
"I'm planning a project," he said. "It's still in the beginning stages, but I'm excited about it."
