Page 14 of Long Story Short

I reach out and attempt to grab my cat from Tyson’s grasp. I stare at Mouse, still in shock that he seems so comfortable hanging out in Tyson’s arms. He wouldn’t go anywhere near Eli. “Well, Tyson, I’m sorry again for Mouse.”

“I’m not.”

Like a magnet, my gaze locks on him immediately. My lips part as I repeat the two words he rasped in my head.

I’m not.

I haven’t had anyone flirt with me in so long. At this point, I can’t remember the last time Eli even flirted with me. But I’m aware enough to be almost positive that Tyson’s doing that now. Any other man’s advance, I’d probably shoot down immediately. I can’t put my finger on why, but there’s something about his that makes me want to entertain him, even when I know I probably shouldn’t.

“Okay,” I whisper, at a complete loss for words. I think I forgot how to flirt with a man. Do I even want to flirt back? It’d be harmless, but I really shouldn’t humor it. My intention when coming to the Hamptons was to lock myself in the house and only get out to write at the club. It wasn’t to escape and flirt with a hot, very wealthy neighbor.

But still, I can’t deny how good it feels.

“What are your plans today?” Tyson asks. He attempts to hand Mouse over to me, but Mouse lets out a meow of protest. He sticks his paws against Tyson’s chest, and to my horror, I realize they are tangled in the fabric of Tyson’s shirt.

“Oh my God.” I close the distance between us and attempt to carefully get my cat’s claws from Tyson’s shirt without ruining the fabric. “I’m sorry, he never does this.” I manage to get one paw and then the next from Tyson’s shirt. There are tiny snags in the fabric, and warmth pools in my cheeks at the realization that not only has my cat trespassed into Tyson’s yard and bothered him twice now, but he’s also ruined Tyson’s shirt.

A deep, throaty chuckle rumbles from Tyson’s chest. “Josie, it’s fine. I’ve got plenty of shirts.”

I shake my head as I’m finally able to tear Mouse away from Tyson. “He basically hates other people. He’s my baby and hisses at everyone else. This is just so out of character for him, and I promise I’ll get you a new shirt and make sure he stays locked inside.”

Despite Mouse’s angry meows, I squeeze my arms tighter around him as he tries to squirm to get free.

If Tyson’s upset about Mouse ruining his shirt, he doesn’t give any indication of that. In fact, he smiles. A smile that’s wide enough it makes the corners of his eyes slightly crinkle. “Do you have any plans today, Josie?”

Nope.

None.

Well, except for writing.

He must take my silence as a cue for him to go on. He smirks. “Spend the day with me?” I can’t decide if the words come out as more of a demand or as a question. Either way, I’m trying to decide if I should forget about my plans to work and spend the day with him instead.

Suddenly, I have no plans.

Not with the way he’s giving me a look that makes my heart jolt and my pulse pound. I give him a soft smile, mustering up as much willpower as I can to deny my hot neighbor. “I have to work.”

“And what do you do for work?”

I lift my shoulder in a shrug and take a step back. “Work,” I say coyly, for some reason not wanting to dive into my job right now. A simple search of my name and he’d find out immediately. I’m scared that if I stand here for any longer, I will take him up on his offer, and I can’t spend the day with him, no matter how tempting it may be.

“Thanks again for not being a dick about my cat, Tyson. It was nice to meet you. I’ll see you around.”

“Josie.” He only says my name, but it comes out like a demand—or maybe it’s a plea. Just by the tone in his voice, I know he’s wanting me to change my mind about working, but I can’t. Tyson Bishop is a distraction I can’t afford, not with my publisher breathing down my neck about finishing this book.

“Enjoy your day. I’ll work on getting you that new shirt.”

I hastily rush down the steps of his porch, needing to get away from him before he convinces me to change my mind.

“What were you thinking?” I ask Mouse, knowing damn well he can’t answer me.

I might be asking myself the same thing. Even as I rush away from him, part of me wants to turn around and tell him that I’m thinking about doing something spontaneous…like say yes to his request.

NINE

JOSIE

I’m two glasses of wine deep and have been staring blankly at my computer screen, unable to produce any more words for the day for I’m not sure how long, when a soft knock on the front door breaks me from my thoughts.