I threw the covers off my legs and rose from the comfy bed, padded across the plush carpet, and made my way down the narrow hallway, into the sunlit kitchen and living area. The hardwood floors in the main part of the apartment were cool under my bare feet.

Rhage was sitting on the kitchen island, his bushy tail swinging to and fro as he watched me shuffle toward the coffeemaker.

“There’s food in the bowl,” I told the cat, placing my phone on the counter. “You can eat the dry kibble and it won’t hurt you.”

As I turned around, Rhage hopped off the island and pranced out into the living room, his furry butt high in the air. A second later I heard one of the thick pillar candles hit the floor and roll across it.

“Ass,” I muttered and then said louder, “You’re eating the food in the bowl.”

Another candle hit the floor.

I folded my arms across my chest. “Throwing a temper tantrum is not going to get you anywhere.”

There was a moment of silence and then the loud thump of the wooden candleholder joining the candles on the floor. Then the remote hit the floor, and I knew he’d move on to bigger and more fragile things, like the blue blown-glass bottles situated on the center of the coffee table.

“What a diva.”

Sighing, I pivoted around and went to the narrow pantry. I opened the door and grabbed a small can of wet cat food. The tinny sound of the lid peeling open was like ringing a damn dinner bell. Tiny cat paws scampered off the floors and Rhage came slipping and sliding into the small kitchen. I raised a brow as he crashed into his water bowl. Water sloshed over the side, spreading across the mat the bowls sat on.

Rhage stared up at me with yellow eyes, ears perked, and I’d swear, if I didn’t know better, the damn cat was smiling.

I was such a pushover.

Seriously.

My gaze drifted to where my phone sat. Grady’s laugh was . . . it was cute. Maybe I would call him back and take him up on his offer.

Maybe.

Later that day, after reading what had to be every article on Buzzfeed, I picked up my phone and called Grady.

And I made plans to see him next weekend, when he was back in town.

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I spent the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday absurdly proud of myself, because agreeing to go out with Grady again without Cam and Avery was a good step—a great step, because what else would I be doing?

Living like a hermit in my apartment, arguing with my asshole cat while trying not to drop ice cream on my Kindle and using my stomach as a table for my bowl? Yep. That sounded almost right.