Page 137 of Claimed At First Sight

Ari’s shoulders droop. She lowers her eyes, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, still not looking at us.

“You do not leave your sisters again.”

There’s no anger in his voice, only quiet command. Somehow that feels far more serious than shouting ever could.

Ari nods once. “I won’t.”

Maximo studies the narrow gap beneath the pallets before his gaze shifts to me.

“Go around the other side,” he tells me.

I frown, already getting to my feet. “Why?”

“Because if the cat panics, she’ll run away from you.”

I stare at him. “Are we seriously conducting a tactical operation involving a cat?”

“Mia.” The warning in his voice sends me moving before I can argue further.

I circle the pallets while Maximo crouches closer to the other side. The cat retreats deeper into the shadows, but this time there’s nowhere left for it to go.

“Easy,” Maximo says quietly.

The animal hisses, but Maximo doesn’t so much as blink as he reaches beneath the pallets. His hand closes on the loose skin at the back of the cat’s neck while the other slides beneath its body. The cat freezes in surprise and lets out an offended noise at being lifted into the open.

“Got you,” Maximo murmurs.

He unwinds the dark scarf from around his neck and wraps it around the shivering animal. The cat instantly burrows into the folds.

Ari makes a tiny sound that suggests she’s moments away from adopting Maximo as well.

“She’ll be warmer like this,” he says, transferring the bundled cat into her arms.

Ari accepts it with the reverence of someone receiving a priceless treasure.

She cuddles the bundled cat against her chest, smiling down at it as though Christmas came ten months early.

Maximo watches her for a moment, still crouched beside her, one gloveless hand resting on his knee.

He smiles softly. It makes him look so gentle, so different from the man I keep telling myself he is.

My eyes suddenly sting, and I blink hard to stop tears from welling up.

Maximo notices and his smile disappears, replaced by a frown.

He tilts his head, silently asking what’s wrong. Somehow that makes everything worse, and the pressure behind my eyes builds.

Dammit. Don’t cry.

Why am I suddenly so emotional?

It’s the adrenaline crash. It has to be.

I turn away before he can see any more.

A lump rises in my throat. I try to swallow it, but it’s too stubborn and won’t budge.