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Because I knew that the Murphy brothers were as good of men as you could come by, according to the girls. They certainly would never hurt a woman. Save for maybe some heartbreaking.
“Under.”
“Hm?” he asked.
“I’m not in your dumpster; I’m under your dumpster.”
“I stand corrected. Did you lose something?” he asked, rolling back on his heels, hands in his pockets, looking perfectly at ease.
“I think I saw a kitten,” I admitted.
“This time of year?” he asked, dubious.
“They can breed as early as February,” I insisted.
“True, but one being away from its mom this time of year? Dunno.”
“Well, I have to check. It could freeze to death out here,” I insisted, feeling the chill move through me even under my layers and heavy jacket.
“Sure, sure. Carry on,” he said, waving toward the dumpster.
“You’re just going to watch?” I asked.
“I’m intrigued,” he told me.
“You could help,” I suggested.
“I could, but I like these pants,” he said, waving down at them. “It’s a dead-end. I promise to catch it if it runs my way.”
“Okay,” I agreed, ducking down again, trying not to think about the sick I might be putting my hands in, letting brush against my clothing.
“Psstpsstpsst,” I called as I heard rustling near the back corner. “Come on, baby,” I called, voice sing song. “I’ll get you some warm formula,” I added. “Psstpsstpsst.”
The sound moved closer, and I reached under the dumpster, feeling my fingers brush something furry.
But I started it out from under the dumpster, making me fall back on my ass and shriek as I saw something that was decidedly not a small, sweet, needy kitten.
“Yeah, I’m not catching that,” Rian said as a rat the size of a small cat ran past him, disappearing down the street. “It was a valiant effort,” he told me as he walked down the alley, offering me his hand. “I’m sure the rat felt very wanted and loved.”
I placed my hand in his as a snorting laugh escaped me.
He pulled me to my feet and gave me that boyish smile again. “I’m Rian, by the way.”
“I know,” I agreed.
“You do?” he asked, tone curious but with that hint of flirtatiousness. “Does my reputation precede me?” he asked.
“Delaney told me all about the time you got kicked out of school for that smelly prank that made a bunch of people throw up.”
“Liquid gas is the epitome of comedy when you’re an eleven-year-old boy,” he said, eyes bright. “So, you know my sister. Does that mean you are a club girl? And if you are, will you allow me to tell you all the ways I can show you a better time than—“
“Vienna!” Riff’s voice called, raised, bordering on panicked.
He’d run in to get us takeout from the diner. I was supposed to be waiting in the car.
“Over here,” I called back, watching as Rian watched me.
“Vienna,” he said, curious.
