Just One Night Together (Flatiron Five Fitness #3) - Deborah Cooke Page 0,90

right ears.”

He was startled. “But why?”

“If I’m offered the job here, I want it to be because I earned it, not because someone fixed it for me and certainly not so that I owe someone something for it.”

Garrett bristled, insulted and a little put out. He tried to cover it with a smile. “Haley! Your idealism means that you do things the hard way.”

“It’s my way. I like it.”

He shook his head, amused. “That’s not how the world works, Haley. That’s not how successful people achieve their goals.”

“It’s how I achieve mine.” She let her voice drop as she insisted. “Promise me.”

Garrett met her gaze, disappointment in his eyes. “I won’t say a word.”

“I mean it, Garrett.”

He looked agitated. “I promised, Haley!”

She didn’t remind him of promises he’d broken before.

“Thanks.” Haley got to her feet and picked up her bag. “Take care, Garrett. It was nice to see you again. Thanks for the coffee.” Haley pivoted and left the table, knowing that they were both equally disappointed in each other.

If nothing else, their little discussion had opened Haley’s eyes and closed a chapter in her life. She’d been good enough for Garrett until Krista had offered more. She was interesting to him now, because he thought she’d be grateful—maybe even useful.

But Haley wasn’t the same woman whose heart Garrett had broken all those years ago.

Thirteen

Damon walked through the snow to Haley’s apartment, because he needed time to figure out how best to apologize to her. He wasn’t the most eloquent man on the planet and he knew it, but that had never seemed such a liability until this moment.

It was getting dark by the time he arrived. He spared a glance up to the window of her apartment and saw the silhouette of that cat on the sill. Its tail was flicking and its one eye seemed luminous. Was it watching him? Damon figured it was.

He rang the buzzer for Haley’s unit but there wasn’t an answer. He tried again, but already guessed that she was out.

Was she at work?

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, wishing he’d checked with her before the service. He’d chosen a Thursday because that was when she seemed to be off.

What if her schedule had changed?

He saw an older man sweeping the floor on the other side of the security door and knocked on the glass. The man approached warily and opened the door, blocking the space with his body. “If you want someone, just ring their apartment. I’m no doorman.”

“I’m looking for Haley Slater. I thought she’d be at home, but there’s no answer.”

“I told you, I’m no doorman and I’m sure as hell no babysitter.” The man started to close the door.

“But I really need to talk to her. And Thursday is always one of her days off.”

The man studied Damon. “You know that?”

“She’s a nurse at the hospital. She works nights, five eight hour shifts then two days off. Friday to Tuesday on. Wednesday and Thursday off.” He shrugged. “Unless she fills in for someone else as a favor.”

“Sounds like you do know her.”

“And I know that cat.” He pointed upwards. “I don’t like it or trust it. What if she can’t answer the buzzer because she fell or something? That cat would eat her alive without remorse.”

The older man smiled. “She’s not answering because she’s away.”

“Away?”

“Seems you don’t know her that well.”

“How can she be away? She didn’t mention anything about it.”

“Look, mister, I don’t know who my tenants know, much less what they tell to who, but I know that Haley Slater has gone to her mom’s for a couple of days because I got the job of feeding that cat you like so much.” He shook his head. “And I don’t like it any more than you do, but she seems to think that tom has a heart of gold.”

“He’s too big for a domestic cat,” Damon said. “And too mean to be a pet.”

“Well, I might agree with you on that, but it’s none of my business. The rules say one cat per apartment and don’t specify size or temperament, so she’s within the rules, if she wants to live with that beast.” He stretched out his hand. “Look at that.” There were scratches on the back of his hand and Damon knew what had made them.

“Mean cat.”

“You bet. This for opening a can of fish.” The older man dropped his voice. “When I was up there yesterday, that cat had knocked over the