out of the room and she laughed.
He looked back at her quizzically.
“Forgetting something?” She glanced at Toby’s arms, and he grinned.
“Woof.”
“Oh right, I guess I better leave this one behind.” He handed Bat to Erica to prevent a reprise of the werewolf and gremlin chase, then guided Harry back to the lobby.
Harry kept looking over his shoulder but made it through the door separating him from Batshit with no further protestations of passion.
Toby turned from the door and almost ran straight into Mr. Gorgeous with the cat—Ernest. “Oh, uh, hi. Uh, again.”
Ernest’s lips, the ones that would have made Scarlett Johansson weep, turned up just a fraction, but those almost black eyes warmed from midnight to the hint of sunrise. “Hi.” Odd about the hair. It looked like he’d poured some color on it.
“I’m Toby, by the way.”
“Ernest.”
“And this is Harry.” Toby grinned stupidly and pointed at the beast. “Uh, I never heard your cat’s name.”
“He doesn’t have one.” He shrugged. “Or rather he’s never told me what it is.”
Toby chuckled. “What do you call him?”
“Usually Cat.”
Toby laughed. “How very Capote of you.” Damn. He bit his bottom lip. Sometimes he said stupid, intellectual things that put people off and he didn’t really mean to.
This time Ernest showed teeth. “But no one gives me fifty dollars for the powder room.”
Toby grinned at the pick up on his Breakfast at Tiffany’s reference. “Maybe you haven’t asked the right people.” He sucked air. Jesus, foot-in-mouth disease.
Ernest just laughed and pushed on the door.
Toby swallowed hard, “Maybe I’ll see you again?”
Ernest looked surprised and cocked his head. “Maybe.”
For a second, their eyes met and held. Like diving headfirst into the sea with no snorkel. Ernest lifted a hand, suspended near Toby’s neck as if he might touch, then dropped it and pushed through into the back, carrying the cat crate. The door closed behind him—pretty much in Toby’s face.
Toby blinked, coming out of deep water. Blearily, he walked to the desk where Betty, the cute, pony-tailed receptionist, pushed an envelope toward him. “Here you go. These are the certifications you need.”
“Thank you.” He took the envelope, his mind cranking on any way he could wring more information on Ernest out of Betty, when Em stuck a head around the corner of the reception area. “Betty, when’s Ernest’s next appointment?”
She glanced at her computer screen. “Monday afternoon at four thirty.”
“Thanks.” Em smiled at Toby who beamed back.
Oh yes, thank you very, very much. He took a breath. He was no expert, God knew, but it sure felt deep in his gut and similarly positioned areas that beautiful Ernest could very well be a gay man. Something in that steady gaze and his comfort being that close to another guy, even if others were watching, suggested a rainbow stripe. Toby desperately needed a gay man. While Toby was pretty sure that Ernest wouldn’t have any serious interest in him under ordinary circumstances, maybe there was something he could do to persuade Ernest to help him out. Cat sitting? He had to try. Imagine spending a whole afternoon with those lips, showing him off at the party. Jesus, the thought made him light-headed.
If Toby could arrange to be in the right place at the right time. Of course, there was no guarantee that Ernest would say yes, but…
He turned and, for the first time, noticed two men seated at opposite corners of the waiting room on either side of the front door. One of them wore a dark suit, white shirt, and striped tie, of all things. Not exactly regulation dress for a California beach town.
Toby tucked the envelope in his jeans pocket, wrapped Harry’s leash firmly around his hand and headed toward the door.
It wasn’t until he got out on the sidewalk that he realized the oddest thing of all was that neither of those men had a pet.
Ernest Ross scratched Cat under his chin, a move the guy always loved. He stuck his head out like a fuzzy snake.
Erica said, “He’s looking good, Ernest. He’s put on a full pound and his coat shows how well you take care of him.”
Ernest just smiled. He and Cat were a team. They took care of each other.
She stuck a needle in Cat’s flank and he gave her a look but stayed quiet.
Ernest made his voice as casual as he could manage. “That pit bull’s really something.”
Erica nodded. “Yep, he’s a character.”
“Not as fierce as he looks.”
“Not fierce at all.”
“If you don’t count the way he drags