Down and Dirty(36)
She smiled and got to her feet. “Your father and I are going to watch our show on the BBC in the den. Come join us if you like. And think about what I said. Don’t let this girl lead you around by the nose. There’s no point in her buying the bronco if the rides are free.”
She shuffled off, leaving him alone with that pearl of wisdom, wishing he could scrub it from his brain. But damn if she didn’t have a point.
With a sigh, he tossed his keys on the coffee table, then went upstairs to his room, grabbing his laptop from the armchair in the corner when he passed. Sitting at the pine desk he’d had since high school, he opened his computer and logged on. After a cursory glance of his work e-mails—seemed he’d missed the cave-in of a tunnel during a Calabasas mudslide, no casualties, thank God—he entered the MeetMyMate.com site and was instantly bombarded with messages. Too bad the one that played on a loop in his head was the one he wished he could delete most.
We’re just friends, and that’s all we’re ever going to be.
“Fine, Cat. You win,” he muttered under his breath. He scrolled through the e-mails until he found the one he was looking for and then clicked on the instant message box.
The light was green, indicating the sender was online, so he whipped off a quick introduction. The cursor blinked for a long while before a response box popped up.
Hey, it’s nice to “meet” you, too. I’m so glad you decided to get in touch!
Chapter Eight
Cat stared listlessly at the TV and took another halfhearted bite of cold toast. It had been two days since she’d talked to Shane, and it had been the most miserable two days of her life. He’d left a message yesterday, but she hadn’t answered. She needed to not be around him for a while. He wreaked havoc on her emotions, and she couldn’t think when he was close by. Unfortunately, now things had gotten so bad that she couldn’t stop thinking about him, even when he wasn’t around.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it would be like the time Lacey had gotten the gorgeous pink bike for Christmas when they were eight. It had a bell and a basket and little purple flowers painted on it. Cat had coveted that damned bike so much, there were points she wondered if it would just splinter into a thousand pieces from the force of her want. Until the day Lacey let her ride it. She tore up and down the street, feeling like a big shot. But after twenty minutes of hard riding, she realized the bell jangled every time she hit a bump, and the brakes weren’t nearly as responsive as hers. Overall, it was a total letdown. Maybe if she rode Shane hard for twenty more minutes, she’d realize that what she felt for him was nothing more than another case of pink bike syndrome.
As much as she was confused about her feelings, though, the one point she was crystal clear on was that there was no way in hell she was going to be able to help him pick a girlfriend. Picturing him with another woman suddenly seemed about as appetizing as eating maggoty cheese. Wondering if he was touching them the way he’d touched her. Kissing them with that wicked, sexy mouth.
“Argh,” she groaned, and covered her eyes with her hands, trying to scrub away the thoughts. Eventually, she’d have to tell him she wasn’t going to help him anymore, but for now, the word of the day was procrastinate.
Her cell phone vibrated on the glitter-encrusted coffee table. She reached for it, heart stuttering until she saw Lacey’s name flash across the screen. Not Shane.
She cleared her throat and pressed the green call button. “Hey.”
“Hey. What are you doing?”
“Just hanging around, you?” Cat had managed to avoid seeing her for the last few days in hopes of letting the Shane situation run its course, but Lacey hadn’t gotten a chance to grill her the way she’d wanted. There was no way she was going to be able to hold her off much longer.
“I have a couple classes today, but I’m free later. Want to go out to dinner tonight?”
Cat stared down at her toast, the smear of jam coagulating with an oil slick of melted margarine gone cold, and she shrugged. Maybe she could drown her sorrows in some good food and beer. It was her vacation, after all, and so far she’d done none of the fun things she’d planned. Getting out couldn’t make her feel worse than staying in.
“Sure.
“Okay, I’ll swing by and get you around seven. I can’t stay out too late, though. Galen and I are leaving for New York City early tomorrow morning. We’re going skating and then I’m taking him to see Mamma Mia.”
Cat groaned. “Aren’t you sick of that yet?”
“Nope.”
“Well give the poor bastard my condolences.” She felt bad for her brother having to sit through that, but better him than her. Every man for himself. In fact, maybe this phone call was a sign of some sort. A reminder that even happy couples had to do a shitload of compromising.