Page 25 of Hot Under the Collar

Leo huffed. “Don’t ask me to promise something you wouldn’t promise yourself.”

Then a message came through from Mike. Downstairs. Back door.

“Well, one more heroic thing,” Leo said. He ran downstairs to thank Mike and returned to the apartment with warm food and two coffees.

A faint smile crossed Lynne’s lips, and honestly, it was the best thing he’d seen all day. Sure, she was stressed and barely able to stand. But he’d pay Mike to deliver ten more breakfasts if it made her smile that way again.

He placed the containers on the coffee table, and they both shoved food in their mouths, Lynne seated on the carpet and him on the couch. They chatted a little about his shift, how the false fire alarms were going off randomly in the downtown buildings again.

“Yeah, that happens here sometimes, too,” Lynne said, still chewing.

“Really? That’s strange. I don’t remember coming out to O’Donnell’s for a false alarm before.”

She shrugged. “It never seems to last long enough to alert you guys.” She stood and grabbed her still-hot coffee. “This’ll have to wait until later, or I’m going to be up another six hours.”

She offered to put his in the fridge, too, but he insisted he’d sleep whether he had the coffee or not. So she stumbled, nearly comatose, toward her bedroom and paused just before she shut the door.

“Bathroom’s there,” she said, pointing at the closed door just beside the bedroom. “Towels in the cabinet beside the shower. Oh, and you brought a toothbrush?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I didn’t have an extra. Not like I’ve had anyone stay over for a while.” She tucked a strand of her glossy red hair behind her ear, either mulling over a thought or her mind grinding to a halt from exhaustion. It was hard to tell. “I guess I’ll see you in a couple hours.” She exhaled.

“See ya, Lynne.”

He thought it would be harder than this—being a guest at Lynne’s place, meeting in the kitchen every few hours to warm up milk replacer and ready the scale, watching bad reality TV when neither of them could sleep. She ran downstairs occasionally to handle things with the bar and kept taking photos of him feeding the kittens to send to Minka for the socials.

You look comfortable ;) Minka texted him privately.

He tried to ignore it. But after a full day of bottle feeding, naps, and small talk, Leo noticed Lynne was no longer clutching to that urn pendant for dear life. Her shoulders relaxed. She seemed comfortable around him—and he did around her, too. Why wouldn’t he? They both pre-rinsed utensils before loading the dishwasher. They both wanted to crank down the temperature before they slept. Neither of them cared if they sat in silence or ate cereal for dinner. They both obsessed over the kittens’ heating pad. And when they each thought the other was asleep in the other room, they’d peek around the wall just to check. Eventually, they just spoke in partial sentences, like shorthand, intuiting what the other wanted.

The first night was rough. No doubt about it. Harder than hazmat drills. But as soon as the last bottle was cleaned and set on the rack, they stood in the kitchen, facing each other as they leaned against the cabinets, mismatched mugs and triumphant smiles on their faces.

“We made it,” he said, extending his mug toward her. “Cheers.”

They clinked, and both took a few long sips. Fred was nestled on the couch alone, making biscuits in one of Lynne’s blankets and telling them both how much he enjoyed it with the volume of his purrs. They glanced at each other and laughed.

She playfully tapped one of her socked feet against his feet, covered with the ARFD-branded slippers he’d packed. “The pride runs deep, huh?”

“More like loyalty. When I find something I really like, I tend to stick with it.” His voice softened. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

Their eyes met, then she turned toward the window. “This is the best night I’ve had in a long time,” she said. As if to herself. As if to no one.

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get out much anymore, huh?”

She snorted. “No, I’m serious.” She hid her nose and mouth behind her mug again.

It shouldn’t have meant so much to him. But her voice was low and exhausted and sweet. And as the morning sun stretched out to touch her disheveled hair, kiss her cheek, warm her lips, all he could think was how much he wished he was that goddamn sun.

He felt the heat rise in his chest, his grip slipping.

“Well, I guess I better get dressed and go downstairs to intercept that delivery,” she said. “You good here for a bit?”

“Sure. May I—?”

“Please,” she said, handing him her empty mug. “I’ll catch you in a little bit.”

She disappeared into her bedroom while Leo rinsed out the mugs, checked his phone, and returned to the couch to give Fred’s butt some scratches.