Listen To Me - Kristen Proby Page 0,93
cat just blinks, then licks his tail twice before returning his gaze to me.
I’ve never seen this cat before in my life.
“Where did you come from?” I ask, propping my fists on my hips and giving the cat my best glare.
It doesn’t seem to bother him.
“You need to go,” I say and march toward him. “Scoot. Outside.”
He simply runs out of my reach into the living room, watching me. “Meow.”
“No, you can’t stay,” I reply, as if I’m carrying on a conversation with the feline. “Seriously, I don’t like cats.”
“Meow.”
“Because they’re moody and snobby. I’m really a dog person.” I say, trying to reason with him. He flicks his tail and turns away from me. “Seriously, I’m not even allowed to have pets here. My landlord doesn’t allow it.”
Great. Now I’m lying to the cat. I own this house.
“It’s not you, it’s me,” I try, but the cat lays down on his back, exposing his belly, and stretches out on my expensive area rug, making himself at home.
“Meow.”
“You. Have. To. Go.” I clap my hands and move fast, trying to scare him out and through the open front door, but he runs in the opposite direction. “Seriously? You’re really starting to piss me off.”
“Meow.”
He jumps up on the back of my couch and crouches, watching to see what my next move is, so he can dodge it, I’m sure.
“I said outside,” I say, my voice heavy with authority.
Finally, he jumps down and runs through my legs, toward the front door, and when I turn around, there’s Landon, with a shirt on now, leaning against my doorjamb with a smirk on his face and the cat weaving through his legs, purring.
“What are you trying to do to your cat?” he asks as he leans down and scoops the terrorist into his arms.
“He’s not my cat,” I reply and blow out a gusty sigh. “He ran in here and now I can’t get him to leave.”
“Smart cat,” he says and scratches the feline’s head. Landon’s blue eyes are on mine as he closes the door and sits himself, and the cat, on my couch.
“By all means, both of you make yourselves at home.” I roll my eyes and push my fingers through my hair. “What do you want, Landon?”
I frown. My voice had never been this hard when I spoke to Landon before. It doesn’t sit well with me.
“I’m sorry, Cam,” he says softly, watching the cat as it curls up in his lap and purrs happily.
“No need,” I say and sit on the loveseat to the left of him. “I shouldn’t have come over without calling first.”
I trace the pattern in the fabric of the loveseat, not wanting to meet Landon’s gaze. I’m still embarrassed, and disconcerted about the cat.
“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Landon says.
“I’m fine,” I reply. “I was just going to say hi. No big deal. I have some stuff to do, so if you could just take the cat outside with you when you go, I’d appreciate it.”
I stand and move to leave the room, but Landon catches my wrist to stop me. Since I was young, Landon’s always caught my wrist when he wanted to take a bite of whatever I was eating, or just to catch my attention. He’s a touchy-feely guy. I frown down into his face and my heart catches. His blue eyes are sad.
And my arm is on fire from his touch.
“I really am sorry,” he says. “I’m just not myself these days.”
I gently tug my arm out of his grasp and sit back down, watching him. “Okay.”
“I didn’t want to come home,” he says as he pets the cat, currently purring happily as if he lives here. “I guess things are just weird right now. But that doesn’t mean I can snap at you. You’re the sweetest person I know.”
“You don’t know me anymore,” I murmur, remembering what I thought about in the car. Landon’s brows furrow, but then he nods.
“Maybe not. But I do know that you’re sweet, and I care about you, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being an ass.”
“Thank you.”
He looks over at me now and really looks at me, his eyes tracking me from head to toe, then finding mine again. “You look great.”
“Thank you,” I repeat, not knowing what else to say. I can see that he’s hurting, and maybe confused, and everything in me wants to scoop him up and pet him, like he is the cat, to soothe