But the moment he looked up… my heart seized in my chest for a few long seconds.
Then his grin displayed a row of perfectly straight white teeth, and I felt my ovaries do this little dance.
A dance that they shouldn’t be able to do when there would never be any kids on my horizon.
Not with my stepmonster able to control the world like she did.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “And why are you carrying the cat around like it’s a dog?”
Cats were unpredictable. Cats were lively and rambunctious, and did whatever the fuck they wanted.
He showed me his collar, then showed me his leash that I hadn’t seen tucked away in his hand until right then. “I have him under control.” He looked at me more solidly. “I wouldn’t have tagged you for a vet. You look like a porcelain doll. But it makes sense now. Your preoccupation with my cat.”
I closed my mouth so tight I could practically feel the fine lines forming. My stepmother would’ve murdered me had she seen this face. She called it my butthole face, and said that I needed to control my reactions or I’d be ugly by the time I was fifty.
“What can I get you four fine people?” Shawna, Diana’s work wife, asked.
Diana snorted. “I already placed everyone’s order but Etienne’s since I didn’t know what he’d want. They’re sitting on the computer ready to be submitted. Etienne?”
“I’ll have a Coke.” Etienne paused. “A Dr Pepper. And chicken and waffles, hold the butter.”
“You got it.” Shawna took her notepad, shoved it in her back pocket, and swayed to the computer where she put in the orders.
I watched her until she was finished for some reason, then turned back to the man with the cat.
“Why are you holding the butter?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Because,” Etienne said, “I don’t want to have a heart attack at the age of thirty-eight.”
“Thirty-eight?” I paused. “That’s a lot.”
That wasn’t a lot. That was just about right, if I went off of my favorite-aged men to date—even though that hadn’t happened in a while.
Dates, working, and going to school were a thing of the past for me. I barely had time to catch four hours of sleep a day. Let alone date.
But if I had… Etienne would definitely be in my wheelhouse.
Until I heard the next statement by him when I asked how he and Bain met.
“So,” I said as I looked from Bain to Etienne, “how did you two meet? Old college friends?”
Etienne grinned wickedly. “We met in prison.”
I licked my lips nervously as I said, “Really? What were you in for?” I looked at Bain. I knew his story. Surely, he wouldn’t be friends with a man that was in prison for something bad… right?
Etienne leaned back in his seat, eyeing me. His cat butted his hand and he absentmindedly started to stroke his head.
My fingers itched to do the same.
I was neurodivergent. I had sensory issues. And every single cell in my body was urging me to reach over and touch the cat. I bet he felt like a warm peach…
“Do you want the condensed version?” he asked. “Will it matter what I did when I’m going to be helping you build your clinic for damn near cost?”
I blinked. “I guess I’ll take whatever you give me.”
A lazy expression overtook his face, and a smirk started to tick up the corner of his beautiful mouth.
I couldn’t tell what was hotter. The face. Or the attitude.
“My nephew, who is on the spectrum, told a lady that he liked her shirt. He really liked her shirt. He reached over and touched it,” Etienne’s eyes were intense now. “Just the shoulder. But it was enough to freak the lady out. She went home and told her husband. And they decided that the best course of action would be to beat the absolute holy hell out of him. Almost to death. Then try to toss him in a lake when they thought he was dead.”
I blinked. Then blinked again.
“When I found out, I did what any sane uncle would do.” Etienne picked up a straw that Shawna had set down earlier and crimped it in half. “I snapped their necks.”
I shook my head. “Wow.”
But, having heard that, I knew they deserved it.
I wish someone had been an advocate for me when I was in that awkward stage.
“I’ve wanted to reach over and touch that cat since you got here,” I said softly. “Which happens to practically be in your crotch. When I was ten, I wanted to touch my stepmom’s purse. I did, and broke off a Swarovski crystal, and she beat the holy hell out of me for it.”
Etienne’s eyes went understanding.
It was Diana that broke the tense silence.
“She’s like a crow,” Diana teased. “Show her shiny things, and she just has to touch them. No matter what.”