Especially since I was baking a dessert, and I could only function with a recipe—the more precise, the better.
He served me up a bowl of the pasta while we waited for my lemon bars to bake.
“Okay, so you weren’t lying. You can cook.”
He stabbed his pasta and veggies and took a healthy bite. “Yep.”
“So, where did you learn?”
“Little here, little there. I did a sculpture for a chef. Asked for lessons instead of a commission.”
“What chef?”
“Secret.” He took another bite.
“You suck. But that makes sense considering your knife skills.”
“Yeah, he liked teaching, but hated chitchat. We got along well.”
“Shocker. You not liking conversation? No way.”
“I’m having one now, aren’t I?” He finished his bowl and rinsed it before tucking it into my dishwasher.
Without being asked.
Stunned didn’t even cover it for me today, that was for sure.
The buzzer for the oven saved me from trying to extract any more information out of him. I was stunned he’d offered up the chef detail. I barely knew anything about him—except for his exceptional skills with his mouth.
I took out the lemon bars and set them to cool. “Do you want me to follow you out to your place with Gizmo?”
“Nah, you can hold him on your lap, and I can throw his junk in my back.”
He was gruff, yet surprisingly thoughtful. I’d take the win.
Getting Gizmo into his carrier was another thing entirely. It took us twenty minutes of chasing him around the apartment and half a package of treats.
Little stinker probably assumed he was going to the vet.
My guilt ratcheted up at the idea of changing his whole life with this move. I set the carrier on one of the stools at my kitchen island and crouched in front of the mesh opening. “I promise this is going to be so good for you. Mama is giving you a whole mansion to play in. And I bet Harriette will love you.”
“You know that ghost won’t be bonding with your cat, right?”
“How do you know? Might be just what the ghost needs to be a little happier. Maybe even move on.”
Nolan shook his head.
I picked up the carrier. “It’s okay, Gizmo, the big grumpy beasty Nolan will love having you. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
He had a tote bag with treats, food, and toys over one arm and the litter box in his hand. Pretty sure his face was set in stone at this point.
Gizmo was just what he needed, I was sure of it.
TWENTY-THREE
I didn’t want a woman in my life, and I sure as shit didn’t want a cat.
And here I was.
As I’d feared, setting up the spicy cat in my actual house was a lesson in patience. Which wasn’t something I had in abundance on a good day, let alone one when I hadn’t slept in my own bed. Unfortunately, I’d also gotten one of the best nights of rest in her too soft bed.
That was the part I hated most.
Bonus punch was I’d actually enjoyed waking up to watch her getting ready for the day.
I’d never lived with a woman other than family in all my thirty-five years. And my parents had been the definition of dysfunctional. Yet I evened out the more I was around this woman. She drove me crazy, but she also was endlessly fascinating. Her brain worked on warp speed, and her sense of humor lightened the mood between us nine times out of ten.
But then she pushed and poked at me. Asking questions I didn’t want to answer or think about. It was far easier to stay away from people and concentrate on the house.
Now I had a cat slinking around my space, sniffing in every corner.
“He’s not going to piss on everything, is he?”
“What?” She shot me an offended look. “My cat does not go out of his box. He’s a gentleman.”
“Sure he is.” I crossed the room to the scaffolding and plucked him off the platform and put him back on the floor.