Close to You - Kristen Proby Page 0,54
corny even to me, like something out of a book, but that’s the best way to describe it. I have sore muscles in places I never even knew I had muscles.
Good job, Landon.
I grin and set the dryer down, then frown when I can’t find the eye shadow I just pulled out of a drawer a minute ago. I glance to the floor, then glare at Scoot.
“Stop pushing my stuff on the floor, you little menace.”
Scoot simply blinks at me with those big, yellow eyes. He’s too adorable to get mad at. At least, now that my wounds have healed, that is. As I reach for a brush to start applying makeup, my package of pills catches my eye.
“Can’t forget this,” I say, and push a pill out of the packet, then wash it down with a sip of the cold coffee. “And I’m almost out. Don’t let me forget to call in for a refill.” I scratch Scoot behind the ears. “You’re the only baby I need around here for a while.”
“Meow,” he says, as if he agrees, and pushes his face into my hand.
“Aw, you’re coming around, little guy.” I grin and return my attention to the mirror, just as Scoot bats an eye shadow back onto the floor. “You’re coming around just in time to irritate me.”
I bend and pick up my favorite Urban Decay. “Stop that.”
Scoot goes to work bathing his tail, as if he doesn’t have any idea what I’m talking about. “Yeah, you’re not innocent.”
I give him one last stern look, which doesn’t seem to faze him in the least, and set to work on my makeup, which on a day like today takes only a few minutes.
But it gives me quiet time to think, and there hasn’t been a lot of that lately.
My life has changed in the last few months. I mean, for the most part it’s the same. My friends, my job, my home are all the same. But with Landon in my life, it feels so much bigger. Full.
Just when I think I can’t love him more, he says or does something like this morning that tips me over into that more category.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see Scoot reach his little paw out and bat at my mascara until clunk, it’s on the floor.
“I saw that,” I say without looking directly at him. He watches me for a heartbeat, then bats my eye shadow onto the floor, and without a pause, sends my blush over for good measure. “Who taught you to be such a pain in the ass?”
“Meow.”
“Yeah, meow yourself.” I pick him up and put him on the floor and point at his face. “Stay down.”
I reach for my mascara and decide to hurry before Scoot jumps back up to wreak more havoc, then sit back and stare at my own reflection. “You’re being bullied by your cat.” I shake my head. “Sad.”
Apparently, that’s his cue to jump back up again and sit, his tail swooshing over the side. “You’re a bad cat.”
“Meow.”
“Well, as long as you know.” I quickly finish my makeup and stow it away before Scoot can use it for hockey practice again. “Come on, bad cat. Let’s get dressed. I have some shoes you can hide behind, but if you so much as lay a paw on them, it’s off to the pound for you.”
“WHY DO YOU have bite marks on your Jimmy Choos?” Riley asks as she sits next to me at the bar. Kat’s pouring us both some wine.
“Because I have a suicidal cat,” I reply, and sip the cool, crisp Chardonnay. Leave it to Riley to see the tiny marks on my heel.
“Excuse me?” Riley says.
“I warned him not to touch them, but I screwed up and left them on the floor and I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, there he was, nibbling.”
“Maybe your cat doesn’t speak English,” Kat says. “Maybe he’s Spanish. Or French.”
“Well, then I’m screwed because I don’t know either of those languages,” I reply, and frown as I stare down in my glass. “He’s just going to eat all of the shoes.”
“Who’s eating what shoes?” Landon asks as he wraps his arms around me and buries his nose in my neck. “You smell delicious.”
I grin as Kat rolls her eyes. “Her cat apparently eats shoes for breakfast.”
“Scoot ate your shoes?” He rests his chin on my shoulder.
“He gnawed on them,” I reply with a sigh. “And they’re designer.”
“Maybe