“Sorry . . . Nick,” I said. His hazel gaze was direct, making me feel as if he could see not just me but what I felt and thought as well. It was unnerving and made my sleep-deprived brain flatline, so naturally, I started to babble. “Unless you’d prefer Mr. Daire because that’s fine, too. Whatever you want, I’m good. I mean, name-wise whatever you want . . . oh god. Shut up, Annabelle.”

He laughed. It was a delightfully deep, dark, and delicious sound. I felt my face get warm and my nervousness ratcheted up. There was something about this man that made all of my usual coolness vanish into complete nerd girl.

“Nick is fine,” he said. “But ‘Sir’ is definitely not fine for this guy.”

He set the brake on his chair and unzipped his sweatshirt. Gently he pulled the black-and-white cat out of his hoodie and held him out to me.

“Sir!” I cried. I scooped him up and clutched him close. I kissed his head, which made him meow in protest, and he batted my nose. “I wondered where you’d gone.”

“He arrived around suppertime, looking quite put out,” Nick said.

“I had to work late,” I explained, although I wasn’t sure if it was to Sir or Nick. “Poor guy. He must be hungry.”

“I doubt it,” Nick said. “Lupita fed him a hearty meal of roast chicken, and then he decided he needed to nap on my lap.”

I grinned. “And you let him.” He looked disgruntled but didn’t deny it.

“I was going to bring him by earlier, but I fell asleep, too. When I woke up, he was still in my lap and I saw your lights were on so I thought I’d bring him over as you might be worried.”

“Thank you, I was.” I nuzzled Sir’s soft fur, relieved to have him home.

“No pets,” he said. But there was a gentleness in his eyes that I knew meant Sir had worked his charm on him and Nick was reconsidering.

“He’s not a pet, he’s a guest,” I said. “A visitor. Surely we can grant him a temporary visa.”

“Until a suitable home is found?”

I shrugged, which was my nonverbal answer of maybe.

“Even if he’s visiting, he needs a better name,” Nick said. “At the very least, he needs to be Sir Somebody or Other.”

“Sir Somebody works,” I said.

“Ack, no!” he cried in mock horror. “That’s worse than plain old Sir.”

I pressed my face into Sir’s fur to hide my smile. We stood there for a while, enjoying the bond of affection we felt for this whiskered little ball of fluff, who chose that moment to leap from my arms and stroll into the house as if Nick were his driver and I was his butler and he was now done with us.

“Well, I can see we’re no longer needed,” Nick said.