Page 82 of Something Borrowed

“What?”

“You are just,” Vic shook her head again, “too sweet for words, Cal Anderson.”

“In that case, how about no words? Give me a kiss, maybe?”

“I think that would be very nice,” Vic said with mock primness—and then cackled. “And Lord knows I’ll need something to get me through tonight. Watching TV with you and Audra. What am I thinking?”

She stopped teasing then and moved closer. He took her face in his hands like he’d been wanting to again, ever since that first mind-blowing kiss that had gone on and on and on all those weeks ago.

Leaning into him, she lifted her face, and he touched his lips to hers, feather-light. Fire raced through him as she pressed back, her mouth parting slightly and the tip of her tongue dancing briefly against his.

Was it seconds, minutes, half an hour? Cal had no concept of time, only desire. The sensation of falling was back as they slowly pulled apart and he put the van into Drive.

NCIS, hey? Honestly, it didn’t matter what they watched. He’d be replaying this moment over and over and just be in total bliss getting to sit near her on the couch.

Chapter 39

Vic woke early on the 27th, and with a week off yawning ahead of her and nothing pressing to do, she tried to go back to sleep. It wasn’t happening though. Her brain was too full of . . . Well, Cal mostly. Madeline and Grant’s open house had been so fun, and yes, like she’d told Cal, now that she’d gone once, she could probably go alone in the future, but how nice it had been to have him there, sharing delicious tidbits, laughing at her jokes, playing that hilarious game . . .

She sighed happily and stretched luxuriously in her warm, soft bed. He was so… attentive. That was the best word she could come up with. As if he really liked being with her. She wasn’t just something in the shadows for when he was bored, or a trinket that he found pleasing. And oh, that kiss, that kiss, that kiss!

And unbelievable as it still was to her, watching TV together with Audra had been nice, too. She’d been on her best behavior, not warm exactly, but not knife-blade cutting either. She’d even seemed happy that she, Vic, and Cal were all watching together, like it was a little event. Or maybe it was just Christmas.

Seriously, why and how did having a cute, furry animal, streaking across the room and shamelessly playing favorites in the attempt to garner treats have so much power to lift the energy in a room? For half of an episode, Christmas sat on Audra’s lap, and Audra was so transparently pleased and proud of this turn of events that it had made Vic a little weepy or tender-feeling or something. If only Audra could be like this, a bit softer than shoe leather, more often.

Okay, okay . . . there was no way she was falling back to sleep. And that was okay. Was great, in fact. She’d paint!

Christmas, who’d deserted the blankets as soon as Vic stirred, probably in search of a first breakfast, popped back into the room and bounded onto the bed in one graceful pounce, interrupting Vic’s painting plans.

She would paint while she daydreamed about Cal (Ha! But also, her heart really did do a little flippy thing even thinking his name again), but first she’d stick to her resolve to post about Christmas on various online Community boards. She was already in danger of losing her heart to the tiny-in-size, big-in-personality cat, if she hadn’t already, and she was worried about Audra too, who had taken to Christmas with a ferociousness that surprised her. Well, the “taken to” part surprised her. The ferociousness, not so much. Yeah, she’d better post. Now, not later.

Fortunately (or, unfortunately), Vic’s photo library was filled with incredibly cute Christmas pictures. She—briefly hating this new, scrupulous side of herself—selected three utterly irresistible pics that clearly showed Christmas’s distinguishing features. Then she wrote up a brief description of the events leading to Vic taking her in, along with her health and gender.

She finished with, “She’s beautiful, friendly, trusting, and playful. She must have a family who loves her.”

For some reason, that last line, benign as it was, choked Vic up a little.

“Please private message me if she’s yours or if you know who she belongs to.”

Knowing in her gut of guts that it was the right thing to do, yet feeling deeply sad about the separation her posts would no doubt bring about, Vic texted Cal.

“I did it.”

“I’m sorry. That’s hard. How are you?”

Her stupid heart squee’d a little. Cal knew without her saying a word about what “it” was. Her phone pinged again.

“And hopefully you get responses sooner rather than later, so you’re not stuck in limbo.”

Limbo. Such a tiny detail, but one that revealed how much Cal had started to know her. The not knowing if she could let herself fully love her—the—little cat, or if she should hold back, was the hardest part.

One more ping.

“Do you want me to come over?”

Did. She. Ever. But . . .

“I would love that. I’m about to paint, though. Does this afternoon, 3:00-ish work for you?”