Page 8 of For You & No One Else (Say Everything 3)

Well, then.

“I think I can probably move away,” Beckham offered. “These boots are thick if he bites me on the foot.”

“Okay, just move slowly,” Beverly instructed. “If he darts somewhere else, God knows where he’ll end up. Last week he got himself wedged behind the copy machine, and it took us an hour to lure him out.”

“Got it.” Beckham shifted his weight ever so slowly to one foot, preparing to move, but then froze when Trent meowed loudly and batted at one of Beckham’s shoelaces. Beckham took a visible breath, keeping still. “Look, dude. I’m not trying to hurt you, okay? We both just need a little space right now. If you let me…”

Trent yowled again and then slid himself up against Beckham’s boot and nuzzled his leg.

Eliza rose up from her crouch, smiling.

“What’s he doing?” Beckham asked, looking down and trying to see what was going on without making any sudden movements. “I’m about to lose a testicle, aren’t I?”

Eliza laughed and crossed her arms as she watched Trent thread between Beckham’s ankles. “No, I think your breakup speech isn’t working… I think he’s into you.”

“What?” Beckham bent a little to see.

Trent wound himself around one of Beckham’s legs, purring like a car engine.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Beverly said, fist on her hip. “I’ve never heard that cat purr since he’s been here. Looks like he likes you, son.”

Beckham frowned. “Don’t get any ideas, buddy. I’m not the one here for the adoption.”

But Trent was undeterred. He ducked his little black head and rubbed it against Beckham’s shoelaces. Eliza bit her lip, the sight too adorable to bear. “Maybe he’s adoptingyou.”

Beckham’s head snapped up, and he gave Eliza a warning look. “Don’t even. He’s barking—uh, meowing—up the wrong tree. I’m not a cat person.” Carefully, he lifted his foot and tried to step away from Trent. He got clear of him and went back to the bench to give Beverly room to grab him, but Trent happily trotted after him. When Beckham sat, Trent hopped up on the bench next to him and started cleaning his paws. As soon as Beverly tried to reach for him, Trent hissed.

Beverly lifted her brows and stepped back. “Now he’s a guard cat, apparently. I’m going to go and get help to get him back to the kennel. We might need to use the snare pole.”

“The snare pole.” Beckham looked down at Trent, brow furrowed. The cat collapsed onto his side against Beckham’s thigh and returned to cleaning himself. “Dude, that doesn’t sound good. You should let Ms. Beverly take you back to your bed. Doesn’t that sound nice? Your bed?”

Beverly headed to the back as Beckham tried to reason with Trent, talking about naps and snacks, painting full-kitty fantasies to tempt him.

Trent yawned and then nuzzled Beckham’s hand, angling for some rubbing.

Beckham sighed and scratched Trent’s little furry head, inspiring a deep purr from the stubborn cat. “It’s like you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

“I don’t think he’s buying what you’re selling,” Eliza said, enormously entertained by Beckham’s earnest negotiating. “I think you’ve been hired as his new employee. Salary nonnegotiable. He’s already setting up endless Zoom meetings and is going to call you Beck instead of Beckham because he wants to be a tough but cool boss. Your fate might be sealed,Beck.”

He gave her a droll look. “I can’t adopt a cat,Eli.”

The nickname made her smile, but she nodded resolutely, indulging him. “Of course not, Beck.”

“I’m not a cat person, Eli.”

“You’ve mentioned that.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you using therapy techniques on me? Leading me to my own conclusion? Because it’s not going to work. I didn’t come here for this and—”

“Here we go,” Beverly said as she came back into the lobby with a young guy in scrubs at her side. He was holding a long pole with a loop on the end. “Trent, visiting time is up.”

Trent took one look at the pole and then dove behind Beckham’s back, squeezing himself between Beckham and the back of the bench. The pitiful sound Trent released could’ve shattered glass—and hearts.

Well, it worked on at least one heart.

“Goddammit.” Beckham raked a hand through his hair, threw Eliza a helpless look, and then leaned his head back against the glass wall. “Get me paperwork to fill out.”

***

---