Page 61 of Stolen Touches

“Youarea bad person.”

“Yes.”

“Please? Just one. You can choose.”

“We’re not taking in another cat, Milene,” I say and cut the call.

“Oh, look at the ginger one!” I grab Salvatore’s hand and pull him toward the last cage in the line. “He looks like a mini Garfield.”

“That one is a little problematic,” the lady who runs the rescue says, observing Salvatore with concern. My husband isn’t the typical clientele—stoically standing there in his charcoal Armani suit, wearing a scowl on his face while regarding the cat in question. I guess she’s right. He certainly doesn’t give the impression of someone who likes cats.

“Problematic?” I ask. “In what way?”

“No more mentally defective animals, Milene,” Salvatore grumbles. “One is enough.”

“Well, he’s a little grouchy,” the lady says. “Not very good with people.”

“Sounds exactly like you, Tore.” I place a hand on his arm. “Can we take him?”

“No.”

“But look at him! Isn’t he cute?”

“No.”

“Tore!”

He looks at the cat, then moves his gaze to glare at me. “You said we’d come here to look.”

I cock an eyebrow and smile. “I lied.”

Salvatore watches me, his eyes glued to my lips. He does that a lot. He always studies my mouth when I smile.

“Just take the damn thing, and let’s go home,” he grumbles.

* * *

“Tore!” I yell from the guest bathroom. “He won’t come out from the shower stall.”

I nudge the food bowl toward the cat and coo at him, but he keeps sitting stubbornly in the corner.

Kurt came to see the new resident as soon as we arrived, hissed at him, and went back to my old bedroom. Saying things are not going as I expected would be putting it mildly. I sigh, leave the cat in the bathroom, and head toward the dining room where Salvatore is already eating.

“We need to name him,” I say as I sit on the chair next to him. “How about Riggs? Like Mel Gibson’s character inLethal Weapon.

“I don’t particularly care for the way you name your animals.”

“I’m glad you like it.” I scoop a spoonful of mashed potatoes from a bowl on the table and drop them onto my plate.

“What’s with you and the obsession with eighties movies?”

“They made the best films back then. Want to rewatchEscape from LAwith me?”

“I don’t watch movies, Milene.”

I lower my fork and stare at him. “You don’t watch movies? What do you do in your free time?”

“Go to a gym on the third floor. Watch a game from time to time. Sleep.”