Page 49 of Chasing the Sun

But damn it—I felt that kiss everywhere.

It was in the restless energy that coiled in my chest every night, in the way my fingers tightened around my coffee mug each morning, like holding on to something solid would keep me from thinking about the softness of her in my hands.

My jaw tightened whenever her name was brought up. Anytime Levi mentioned the farm, my fists clenched. A slow, burning heat crawled up my spine whenever I caught a glimpse of her across town, talking too close to someone who wasn’t me.

I was officially losing my mind.

It wasn’t just the kiss. It was the way she had smiled against my mouth, like she’d known that kiss would happen all along. The way she had melted into me, fingers twisted in my shirt, like she belonged there.

I was a grown man—a logical, practical man. I had been through war zones, trained to fight in the worst conditions imaginable. I knew how to compartmentalize, how to keep my emotions locked down where they belonged, so why the hell couldn’t I get her out of my head?

It wasn’t like I wanted her. Not really. I just wanted to stop the urge to kiss the smug look off her face. To stop remembering the way she tasted like honey and heat and recklessness.

Every second I spent not thinking about her was followed by a second where I was gritting my teeth, telling myself Iwasn’tthinking about her. I tried drowning it out with work. Fixing things that didn’t need fixing, running until my lungs burned, but it didn’t matter. My mind still went back to her—uninvited and unstoppable, like a song I hated but couldn’t stop humming.

I wasn’t usually the kind of man who got rattled. I didn’t lose sleep over things I couldn’t control. But Elodie? She had sunk beneath my skin like a sliver, impossible to ignore and impossible to remove without drawing blood.

I was torn from my brooding by a low, scratchy yowl.

The sound scraped against my patience like nails on a chalkboard. I ignored the catlike groans at first, shifting my focus to the busted railing I was reinforcing on the porch. Another yowl. A little closer this time.

I sighed, tightening the drill in my hand.

Then came the third—long and drawn out, like something from a horror movie.

I dropped my head back. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I turned, and there it was. A scrappy, battle-worn menace of a cat—patchy fur the color of old rust, one ear half torn, and a single gold eye that gleamed with the kind of knowing patience only a creature who had survived some serious shit could possess.

Its fluffy tail twitched playfully, like it had been summoned by the universe to personally test my patience. One golden eye blinked up at me in blatant expectation.

For a beat we just stared at each other.

It yowled again, even louder this time.

“No.” I pointed the drill at it. “Absolutely not.”

The cat tilted its head. Blinked. Then it proceeded to take a slow, deliberate step forward.

I scowled. “Don’t even think about it. You are not welcome here.”

I tried to swat in its general direction, but it took another step.

I set the drill onto the porch. “I mean it.”

Another step.

Jesus Christ.

I narrowed my eyes, leaning forward. “Do I look like a cat guy to you?”

The scrawny furball hopped onto the porch, then sat, curling its tail around its feet like it had all the time in the world, letting out a massive, jaw-cracking yawn. The cat yawned like my presence was boring it to death.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face and looking around in disbelief.

The cat just blinked again and licked its paw.

I considered my options. Shooing it away didn’t work. It appeared immune to my scowls. I certainly couldn’t ignore it—not when it was sitting there like some furry omen of my inevitable downfall.