Jenny. Cat cleared her throat before extending her hand. If Hank had been messing around with Amy behind Jenny’s back, then he wasn’t the man she believed him to be. It shouldn’t be a surprise, considering her lousy instincts, but her heart still deflated like a tire crossing a spike strip. “Hi, I’m Cat.”
“I’m Jen.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “You look familiar. Have we met?”
“No, we haven’t.” Cat smiled—a fortunate reflex of her career—despite her blackening mood.
“Cat is Jackson’s sister. You’ve probably seen her in a magazine. She models clothes and stuff.” Hank’s nonchalant tone suggested her relative fame didn’t impress him much. A novel—and welcome—experience with a man. “Cat, this is my baby sister, Jenny.”
Sister. Vaguely she recalled Vivi having mentioned something last summer about Hank raising his sisters. Cat hadn’t realized he still had one at home. A wave of relief crashed over her that she hadn’t misjudged him.
Hank tossed Jenny his keys. “I assume Helen’s gone. Is Meg available tonight?”
Jenny’s eyes widened. “Are you two going out, like, on a date?”
“Not a date,” Hank replied too quickly. “It’s a work thing. I’m building her some furniture.”
“Oh.” Jenny’s shoulders drooped. “Well, I have no idea if Meg is free. Give her a buzz. I’ve got to run. Nice to meet you, Cat.”
“You, too.” Cat waved as Jenny bounded into the driver’s seat and backed Hank’s truck out of the driveway.
“Who are Helen and Meg?” Cat smirked. “Part of a harem?”
“Hardly.” Hank’s expression turned somber. “Helen’s a caregiver who helps with my mom. Meg’s the only other one of my four sisters who lives nearby.” Hank sighed. “If she’s not available, I can’t go out tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Can’t leave my mom alone.” Hank rubbed his hand along his jaw as he walked toward the house. “She’s got late-stage Alzheimer’s.”
“Oh,” Cat replied, only beginning to comprehend the enormous responsibility Hank shouldered. How had she not noticed this strength sooner? “I’m really sorry, Hank. That must be hard.”
“You have no idea.” Then he opened the back door and waved her inside.
Mom,
If I complained to you about the fact that any admiration I’ve received from modeling has been distant, superficial, and based on a false perception of who I am, you’d probably wag your finger and remind me that I helped create that perception. And you’d be right.
Well, now I’d like to be admired for something real before I die. How’s that for a bucket list?
CHAPTER NINE
Hank sensed Cat’s hesitation, knowing she’d stepped into more than she’d bargained for with her simple dinner invitation. He still wasn’t sure why he’d said yes.
Ever since her drunken confession on Block Island, thoughts of her messed with his head with growing frequency. The attention-seeking teasing she’d turned into an art form hypnotized him, convincing some part of his brain that she might actually be interested.
“Give me a second to track down Meg.” He dialed his sister while watching Cat’s eyes scan the kitchen and living room. Unlike her condo, his humble home contained nothing elegant or expensive, yet he’d worked hard for every scrap. He tried to read her thoughts, but her picture-perfect face offered no hints.
“Hey, Hank.” Meg sounded harried. “What’s up?”
“Can you come watch Mom tonight?”
“Sorry. I’m covering a shift until eleven.”
“All right.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead, frustrated. “Talk to you later.”
“Maybe next time.” Meg’s earnest tone didn’t soften the blow.
“Sure. See you this weekend.” He stuffed his phone in his back pocket.
“Did you make this, too?” Cat pointed at the dining room buffet, which he’d built from mahogany and quarter-sawn sycamore. The streamlined design included a bowed profile, tapered legs, and a band of incised carving above the drawers. Although he rarely used a high-gloss lacquer, he’d opted for it on that piece. “It’s really interesting.”
Cat’s slender fingers traced the carving instead of touching other things in the house—like him. When she glanced up, her smile shot to his heart . . . and other places. “I love the light and dark woods, and the high sheen.”
“Thanks.” Yanking his thoughts from the gutter, he recollected Cat’s furnishings and wasn’t surprised she liked the shiny topcoat. “I built it about five years ago.”