He’d gone from grateful father to Judgy McJudgerson in the blink of an eye. The look he’d given her as he loaded Sara into his SUV? Oh, she knew that expression well enough. Judgment, swift and sure.

People often felt the urge to judge her. Her sex life (what a slut!), her wardrobe (designer dresses and flannels?), the way she interacted with people (too friendly or too uppity), all of it was fodder for public opinion. And Cat didn’t give a good damn. She lived her life the way she chose.

She worked and played equally hard because otherwise what was the point? She enjoyed casual sexual relationships with men she liked. And some days, she just felt like wearing fucking leggings and making a waiter blush.

She did things her way, which is why she was sitting at Noah’s dining room table while he glowered at her. Cat had to admit, he fascinated her. How did a man take pot shots at her one second and then nearly drown trying to save one of his neighbors? She’d been shocked when she realized they’d met before during the flood when she hauled his ass aboard. She’d keep that information to herself for now. And when it would give him the biggest punch in the gut, she’d drop that bomb on him.

Paige was explaining to the scowling Noah that she’d like to set up the one-on-ones in his front parlor. Meanwhile, a camera woman, sound guy, and PA were already covering the worn rug and cozy furniture with a million feet of cords. And another half dozen people thundered up and down the stairs, poking their heads in to greet their host.

A fat cat named Felipe wound his way around her ankles, purring louder than a motorboat.

Kathy, her stick straight black hair tied back in a stubby tail, settled in at the cozy dining table next to Cat. “I can’t believe we’re back here again,” she sighed.

Cat patted her friend’s hand. “This sucks balls.”

Kathy’s smile was tired but broad. “I miss you and your inappropriate mouth.”

“I missed you too, and now we’ve got the next eight weeks to enjoy each other’s company again.”

Jasper skirted the table and handed Kathy a cup of tea. Lines of tension were carved into his face. His jet-black hair was disheveled as if he’d been shoving both hands through it. Cat remembered the signs, remembered the strain he put himself under in times of crisis.

“You got a minute?” she asked Jasper, keeping her voice low.