Page 23 of Cruz

“No.” There. I hope she’s happy.

“He did. He begged me for one. I felt so bad. I really wanted to get one, but I was worried about the customers who have allergies. I wasn’t sure I could keep cat hair from getting on my clothes and then coming downstairs. If anyone found a hair in their food, I was sure that I’d hear about it online. I took Liam to volunteer at the shelter here every other week. He loved it. I’ve been rethinking that. I didn’t get him the pet he wanted when he was younger, but what about now? Is it too late? I wouldn’t mind a cat. They’re good companions.” She pauses. The old white stove glistens, but then she starts to dismantle the burners, pulling them out. They’re the coil kind, and she has little tinfoil liners underneath. She shakes them out, one at a time. “I’m rambling.” She laughs softly and the sound coils through me like smoke tendrils. I feel her eyes on my back. “Do you like cats?”

The cup I’ve been scrubbing this whole time almost slips out of my hand and shatters as I rinse it. I catch it and set it safely on the countertop.

What did she ask me? Cats. Right. She hasn’t resumed scrubbing and the coil burners are set neatly on the stove. The back of my nape prickles. She’s not doing any of that because she’s watching me.

“I don’t know. I never had one. I don’t dislike them though.”

“Are you more of a dog person? I wouldn’t mind a dog, but my work hours wouldn’t be fair. And if the dog likes to bark as well as shed hair, that would be worse than the occasional cat hair in the food.”

“I think you’re right. About cats. They’re quiet and composed. I read somewhere they’re almost the perfect animal anatomically or something.”

“Seriously. Hold on.” She races to the table to get her phone. She types something in and scrolls, then exclaims excitedly, “Holy shit, you’re right! I’d want to get an older cat. A rescue, for sure. But then what if I get attached? No, I know I’ll get attached. I’d be scared to lose it after getting so connected. Losing your soulmate is hard, and I think that animals can be that. I don’t think soulmates have to be romantic. Or human.”

I wouldn’t know. I’ve never considered anything to do with that, romantic or otherwise. I do know loss, though. I’ve lost friends. People I cared about. Someone like Sloane, with her massive heart, would hurt so much more. She wouldn’t try to shield herself and it would take her out, but then she’d probably love just as deeply all over again and again. She’s built like that. With extra love to spare.

My chest tightens. I don’t understand that either.

I go back to scanning the street through the window while the warm water and suds lap around my wrists.

“I read that love doesn’t have to last for a lifetime. Sometimes it lasts hardly any time at all. Other loves last as long as they need to. What do you think about that?”

Her voice is wistful and dreamy. I wouldn’t know. There are different kinds of loves, probably. I know what I’ve read and the bullshit in movies. Thankfully, this doesn’t seem to be the type of question that Sloane really wants an answer to.

“Anyway…” she trails off, voice growing softer. “I should go do some reading. It’s early yet, but I’m exhausted. I find reading helps me relax. Will you take Liam up on his offer, please? I’m sure you have a million things you could teach him, and this lesson—that there are consequences for our decisions, even if everyone still loves us and wants the best for us, is a good one to learn. I’d like him to take some responsibility, but more than that, I’d like you to be able to get some sleep. You might be the strong silent type, but you’re not a robot.”

She thinks I’m strong?

What else does she think?

Jesus, I don’t want to get going on that line of thought again. I quickly divert myself before I pop another very inconvenient hard-on. This afternoon was hellish enough, thank you very much.

“Goodnight,” I mumble.

It wouldn’t be enough for most people, but Sloane sounds almost cheerful as she calls out a goodnight. She almost sounds half asleep on her feet. A belly full of pasta after a hard day and a sleepless night, will do that to a person.

I don’t think she meant to leave the stove half disassembled. Maybe that was her subtle ask for me to wash it.

I catch sight of my crazy goofy smile reflected in the window. There’s not much I know outside of mechanics and what Sloane would probably all lump into ass kicking, but this, I can absolutely do.

Chapter 10

Sloane

Aside from giving the café a deep cleaning, there are a few nitpicky little things that need to be addressed. The first is the lighting. I installed brand new fixtures last year. They’re rustic, a deep dark espresso that matches the vibe of the wooden beams and exposed brick walls. I matched them to the tables and chairs. I thought they were so great because they’re enclosed, so bugs can’t easily fall into them. Unfortunately, I picked a bright white bulb, anticipating that it would give the café a brightly lit, cheerful air.

Honestly, they’ve been bugging me ever since. They don’t give cheer. The light is more retina scalding, hotel bathroom vibe.

Today is the day that I change them out for softer yellow lighting.

It’s a big process. There are twelve lights from the front to the back, behind the counter and all along the rows of tables. Each one takes twenty minutes. I have to unscrew the part that holds the bottom glass in place before I can get to the two bulbs.

Cruz offered, but I couldn’t let him do my work for me. How could he watch the security feeds if he has his hands over his head constantly? He watched me drag the stepladder out of the back storage area by my office and immediately came over to hold it for me.

I wanted to tell him not to bother, but I have to get up on the top rung to reach the lights, which is a little terrifying.

“How was the matcha latte?” I just want to make conversation. We’re on our third light, and even though I know that Cruz is the strong, silent type, I’m far from used to it. He’s below me and can study any bit of me from up here. Not that he would. Unlike me, he doesn’t seem to have an inappropriate fixation with my body. I mean, mine isn’t the problem for me either. “Were you just being polite when you drank all of it?”