Page 66 of Forever Defiant
There are a few harsh home truths I know about myself that I’m not entirely proud of.
One, I will cry at a commercial at the drop of a hat, but I don’t cry at funerals. I will focus on the negatives rather than embrace the positives. And I am, without a doubt, the worst person when it comes to waiting.
I mean — theworst.
The ninety minutes until Dustin Slater knocked on my door were excruciating. I felt every second tick past in slow motion. Had ninety minutes always been so long?
I heard the heavy tread of someone coming up the stairs, and the lighter sound of another. The QB was light on his feet? Huh. Didn’t expect that.
He rapped his knuckles against the door in a solid, businesslike fashion. I imagined policemen had the same style of knock.
I scooped up Milly, much to her disgust, and opened the door. Dustin looked at me, looked at the cat, and brushed past me without a word.
Not the quarterback.
Not even the linebacker.
I gaped at the blonde-haired woman in front of me. Hair tied back, a cap on her head, like Dustin, an oversized ’Bama hoodie that looked like a man’s, and a pair of skinny jeans.
“Savannah Cole?”
The dean’s daughter was on my doorstep. Her dad put me on unofficial academic probation, and she was here. I wasn’t sure I liked that.
She smiled at me. “Hey. Is it okay if I come in?”
Before I could make the decision, Dustin pulled the door open wider, and since I was holding on to the handle, I went with the door, stepping into his hard body, then jerking away from him as if he’d scalded me. By the time I’d turned to glare at him, he was already closing the door, and she was inside my space.
My apartment is compact.
It’s not meant for three people. It’s a struggle for two people. Three was definitely a crowd. I had one couch. It was a two-seater, and Dustin had already sat down, and factoring in his man-spread, there was nowhere else for the dean’s daughter to sit, or me.
She didn’t seem to mind. She took a few steps to the window and looked out. “This looks like a window seat. Can I?”
It wasn’t. It was just a largeish ledge. She was being polite.
“If Slater closed his legs, you’d be able to sit there,” I said with a not-so-subtle glare at him.
“Oh...” She hesitated. “I’m actually allergic to cats,” she confessed. “I was hoping the window would help.”
“Shit.” I darted forward, removing the folded blanket. “That’s actually Milly’s spot,” I told her. “Possibly the worst place to sit.” I opened the window a tiny fraction. “I can’t open it, or Little Miss Adventure will sneak out.”
“Is that why she’s only got three legs?”
I turned to look at Dustin, my eyes wide. “We don’t talk about that when she can hear,” I hissed at him.
He sucked his teeth, eyes widening as he nodded. “Yeah, right. Of course, you’d be a crazy cat lady.”
“I am not—” I said no more. Imightbe a crazy cat lady. I was crazy about my cat not getting hurt.
Dustin stood, took one step, and was sitting on the edge of my bed. “There, now the couch is free for you both.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about him sitting on my bed. He looked... comfortable there. I didn’t like the way I noticed that.
“I’m Savannah,” she said, extending her hand.
“Hi. Shit.” I was still holding Milly, who was as welcoming to strangers as I was. “Go to your blanket, kitty,” I murmured to her, setting her on the floor. When I straightened, I grabbed a small bottle of hand sanitizer, swiped my hands, and then shook the hand that was still extended. “Hadley Peterson. Nice to meet you.”
I pointedly ignored the huff of laughter to my left. Savannah sat on the couch, exchanging a look with Dustin. I wasn’t going to try to read into that.
