I’d literally had to hold him in with my elbow—as he hissed and clawed—while closing up the bag, and this was after chasing him through the entire house.
So the odds of charming Connor into a second date were suddenly looking slim.
Because now he was going to think I was a crazy cat lady when I showed up. He was going to take one look at me, with my smeared eyeliner, sweaty upper lip, cat hair–covered outfit, and enormous pet carrier backpack, and the dude would thank his lucky stars that I’d been dumb enough to reject him.
10
Connor
I damn near spit out my coffee when I saw her.
I got there early, so I was sitting at a table, scrolling through my phone, and when I glanced up, I saw someone wearing one of those bizarre cat backpacks, where some poor feline could gawk out at the world from where it was imprisoned.
That was maybe a little harsh, but they were ridiculous.
But as I made eye contact with the cat, I realized he was in the middle of having a total shit fit. The cat was squirming around and meowing, and even though you could barely hear the little guy, it was obvious it was not having the time of its life.
Which made the backpack jerk around on its owner’s back.
That cannot be comfortable.
I watched in amusement for a minute before the owner turned to the side and I saw her profile.
Holy shit—it was Duffy.
I got up and walked over, trying my damnedest not to laugh as I approached her from behind.
“Good morning, Distefano,” I said, feeling a jolt ofsomethingwhen she turned and her eyes met mine. I wouldn’t go as far as to say it was pure happiness, but I felt oddly lighter, more energized.
“Hey, Connor,” she said, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes.
“I’m not usually one to state the obvious,” I said, “but I think an astronaut cat might have climbed into your—”
“Don’t,” she interrupted, shaking her head with a little smirk. “It is ludicrous that I am wearing this and I cannot quite believe it myself.”
“This is not by choice?” I asked.
“Do I look like somebody who would choose this getup? Actually, don’t answer that because if I do, well…that will just be too depressing for words.”
“I ordered you a mocha,” I said. “But if you want something else I can—”
“How did you know I like a mocha?” she asked.
“You mentioned it at the dive bar when you were talking about living with your dad,” I said, the back of my neck growing warm. I sounded like I was obsessed with her. God, was I being too overbearing?
“No, a mocha sounds great,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I’m over there,” I said, gesturing toward the table.
I followed her over, wanting to laugh so badly as that cat freaked out in the little window.
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked as the backpack jerked around on her shoulders.
“Yes, he just has a high stress level,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m dropping him off for an appointment as soon as I’m done here and then he’s not my problem anymore.”
“An appointment? He needs shots or something?”
“I wish it was that simple,” she said, sitting down. “Although, you’ve met my father, so you might not find it as strange as someone else might.”