Page 79 of Shamed
I also caught him watching me several times, too, occasionally offering a smile as if he were actually happy that I was there.
Mase hops into the driver’s side a second later. Every movement he makes seems to bring the fresh scent of his bodywash to my nose, and I wonder how the hell it’s going to be living with that sort of delicious torture.
God, forget his scent, how am I supposed to live with him, period?
Too nice. Too kind. I don’t deserve it.
“You ready?” he asks after buckling himself in, almost looking nervous himself.
No.
“I think so.”
The fluttering in my stomach hitches up a notch when he puts his truck into drive and pulls away from the curb, away from my home.
What am I doing?What thehellam I doing?
I put his friend in prison. Hisinnocentfriend.
The fluttering turns to an all-out war in my stomach, and I place a hand over it in an attempt at settling it.
It’s just for a few days, I remind myself. And I think he needs this.
And really, this is sort of a perfect form of punishment for me: being in the presence of someone who will remind me every day of what I did whenever I look at him.
The drive to his building isn’t long, and before I know it, we’re standing in front of his apartment door in the hi-rise complex where he lives.
Mase pauses just before turning the handle, and looks at me over his shoulder, uncertainty suddenly occupying his face. “Shit. I should have asked. You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”
A second later, meowing comes from the other side of the door, and my brows lift.
“I didn’t realize you had any pets,” I answer, curious to see what furry kitty is waiting for him. “But no, I’m not.”
Pushing the door open, he reaches down and scoops up a little black kitten with bright blue eyes, flopping it over his shoulder where it seems content to stay. “Well, I don’t.” Mase carries the kitten and my bags inside. “My neighbor asked me to watch her for a few weeks while they flew back to Australia for a family emergency.”
I follow him inside, mesmerized by the sight of him, all tall and muscular, walking with a kitten laying over his shoulder. His hand almost swallows her body as he holds her securely there. It’s nothing short of heartwarming.
“She’s adorable.”
We come to a stop, and he places my bags on a chair in the corner of what must be his guest bedroom, where I’m staying.
“This is your room for the next few days. Mattress is brand-new. Pillowcases and sheets are fresh. Bathroomis next door to your right; I can show you that in a minute. I only have one, but I think we can manage sharing it. My bedroom is across the hall.” He says it all while absently stroking the fluffy ball attached to him, and I can’t seem to look away. Pausing suddenly, he glances at her, then me. “You want to hold her?”
I do. I really fucking do. I cut myself off from animals at the same time I quit volunteering at the shelter, figuring that was something I shouldn’t be allowed to have. But my love for all things furry or feathered never went away.
Mase lifts the kitten off his shoulder and plops her into my hands when I continue staring at her instead of answering him.
“Hi,” I say lamely, cuddling her close to me. “Aren’t you a cutie. How old is she?”
“I think they said four months.”
“So little. What’s her name?”
Reaching out, he scratches the top of her head. She’s so mellow and docile, she hasn’t squirmed once in my hold. “Lulu.”
“Lulu,” I repeat. “That’s a cute name.”
Mase’s smile is a little lopsided. “It’s freakin’ adorable.”
