I placed the folded pile of Lee’s discarded clothing on his kitchen countertop. Glancing at a notepad, I ripped out a fresh sheet and scribbled a note on top:
You’re an idiot. ♥?
Looking around his tidy apartment, I slipped my hand into my large satchel. Grinning, I pulled out a small handmade trinket. It was a ceramic cat face, intended for Lee’s niece, Penny. I had molded it out of discarded clay and fired it along with the rest of my pieces. It had wonky eyes and a lolling tongue. Originally it was intended to be cute and quirky, but somehow during the firing process it had morphed into a horrifying mess of frightening catlike features.
It was perfect.
I looked around, searching for the right place to hide the hideous cat. My eyes scanned the apartment and landed on the light jacket hanging on a hook. With a smile, I slipped the quarter-size monstrosity into the inner chest pocket. It might take weeks, maybe even until next fall, for Lee to find it. The thought sent a happy giggle dancing through me.
Lee had been the one to start the unspoken game between us. One night after drinking too much at the Grudge Holder, our local bar, I’d found that he’d hidden a jar of spaghetti sauce in my shower. Lee thought it was hilarious. I retaliated by hiding the same jar in his sock drawer a few weeks later. We went back and forth with that same jar of spaghetti sauce for nearly a year, until one hot day it rolled around and burst in the trunk of my car.
I was not happy.
Since then we had taken to hiding other ridiculous items for each other to find. It had been years of back and forth—a creepy bunny painting hung in my bathroom, a crab flipping the middle finger, a broken key chain from Sheboygan—a town neither of us had ever visited.
The best part was knowing something was hidden and justwaitingfor it to be found.
Satisfied that Lee would find the one-eyed cat in time, I quietly slipped out of his apartment and went in search of Charles.
TWO
LEE
“I heardyou had a wildcat on your hands.” My friend and fellow firefighter, Connor, clamped a hand on my shoulder as I hit the button to brew my fifth cup of coffee.
The corner of my mouth tipped up. “Yeah, something like that.”
He shouldered next to me to pull down his own mug as we waited for the coffee to brew.
“I swear, man, I don’t know how you do it.” He looked at me with an eager smile. “You meet her last night?”
I nodded once. “Took her for a spin around the dance floor at the Grudge Holder. She’s not local—from a few towns over. Allegan, I think.”
“Well, what the hell happened?” Connor asked. “How do you go from moving her around the dance floor to running bare-assed through the streets while she throws your own clothes at you?”
I planted my hands on the countertop, shook my head, and sighed as I let the weight of my head hang between my arms. “I don’t know. It’s a long story.”
Connor was a good friend, but hereallydidn’t need to know.
“Yeah, you dog.” Connor shoved my shoulder. “I bet you did some freaky shit and she didn’t like it.”
I shook my head but didn’t respond. He may be a good friend, but what he didn’t need to know was that, in fact, Marissa was pissed off, but not because I gave her the business. I was a considerate and thorough lover, after all. No freaky shit unless we were both into it.
No, she was pissed because after she sank to her knees and smiled up at me from the floor, I’d put my hands under her arms and lifted her back to her feet.
I had suggested maybe we make breakfast instead.
I was dog-fucking-tired, and Marissa was not pleased.
After leaving the bar, we had passed out naked before either of us could do anything stupid—and, for that, I was also a little relieved.
At my perceived rejection, she had started screaming, and when a glass went flying, I ran out of my apartment.
I didn’t need some out-of-control woman trashing my place. Trouble was, I had only managed to slip on my boots before she had come after me.
I turned around and leaned against the counter. “I don’t know, man. I’m getting kind of tired of unpredictable women.”
Connor let out a low whistle. “Who would have thought the playboy of Remington County would get tired of drowning in pussy? We both know you’re full of shit.”