Page 102 of Betting on You

“Oh no,” I said as the furball kept mewling. I slid off Charlie’s back. “How’s he going to get down?”

I don’t know what I expected from Charlie, but without a word, he started climbing the tree. Thankfully, it had a knotted old trunk, but that cat washigh,and Charlie was out of his mind.

“Charlie,” I said nervously. “You can’t climb all the way up there.”

“Sure I can,” he cooed, using a soothing baby talk voice so as not to scare the cat. “It’s just a little farther.”

I squinted into the sun as he kept climbing higher.

“I’m coming, little buddy, so you wait for me, okay?” he said, climbing higher still. “I’m going to get you down, get you a warm blanket and some food, okay?”

The kitten just kept meowing, and I just kept listening in disbelief as Charlie spoke to that cat in the sweetest voice. Something about his low croon settled into my belly, makingmefeel soothed, even as he idiotically climbed way too high in that super-tall tree.

“I know, buddy,” he said, and my heart turned to warm liquid as I watched Charlie’s entire focus settle on the well-being of that little cat. “It’s creepy as hell up here, right? But I got you, don’t worry.”

My heart was in my throat as I watched him climb higher and higher. “Be careful, Charlie.”

“I am,” he said, in the same soothing voice he was using on the cat. “Almost there.”

How did I ever think he was a jerk?Charlie Sampson had the softest, sweetest center, in spite of the fact that it was surrounded by crunchy cynicism, and I felt an odd sense of pride as I watched him move closer to the kitten.

Because how many people would just start climbing in this situation?

He got to the branch below the kitten and started talking even more. “I’m going to grab you in a sec, and I’m going to need you to not freak out too badly, okay? A scratch is fine, but please don’t leap down and hurt yourself.”

I took a couple steps over to stand directly underneath him, incredibly stressed about how high he’d climbed. Maybe if he fell onme, instead of the ground, he wouldn’t die.

He reached out, and—thank God—got the cat on the first try.

And instead of trying to get away, the little pile of fluff buried his head in Charlie’s collar as he petted him.

“Good job, buddy. Such a good boy, sitting still and waiting for me.” Charlie’s mouth was right by the kitty’s ear as he said, “You are such a good kitty.”

I watched him, dangling from the side of a tree while cuddling and nurturing that tiny little animal, and it was undeniable.

I had huge feelings for Charlie Sampson.

Shit.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVENBailey

The road trip home was the same as the way there—fun, relaxed—only it had the added bonus of Charlie’s adorable cat, Puffball. A name I earned the right to give by winning the what-will-they-order-for-breakfast challenge before we’d hit the road. Charlie wanted to talk to his mom before bringing the cat home, so my mom had suggested we bring it to our apartment and he could come get it once he had permission. It was disgusting, how protective Charlie was of the cat, and I was utterly obsessed with this soft side of him.

After we brought the cat back to the condo, Scott ran to the market and came home with a disposable litter pan, food, and a cat toy, and the three of them—Scott, my mom, and Charlie—gushed over the fluffy feline all evening.

The damn cat had ruined everything.

Because now, in addition to being emotionally distracted by the beautiful way Charlie was a total sap for that cat, I could no longeravoid the obvious as I watched them love all over the kitten.

Scott was a decent guy.

He was sweet and thoughtful, even giving Charlie a chance in spite of all the things Charlie had done to antagonize him.

So how could I keep trying to mess things up? Especially when my mom seemed to really like him?

It was giving me stress, but when I thought about him being in our lives forever, that stress accelerated to thenth degree.

So much for the whole laid-back shit-happens vibe.

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