Page 15 of Aspen's Defense

"You have to watch out for him," I warn Noah. "He's kind of shady."

"Aren't all cats?" Noah kneels down, extending a hand toward Brick.

Brick eyes him sideways for a minute, sniffs him, and then decides he's okay. He rubs against his hand, purring. Noah grins and scratches his ears.

"He has food issues," I murmur. "It doesn't matter where I hide the bag, he finds it. He's gotten into the pantry, my closet, the bathroom, the fridge…" I tick off the list on my fingers. "He's Houdini."

"He likes to eat."

"Until he can't hold anymore." He's so chonky, his belly practically drags the ground. "He's been on a diet for the last year, but he's very dramatic about it. I think maybe he broke into my house because he was starving."

Noah glances up at me, startled. "He broke into your house?"

"Yep. I came home from work, and he was hanging out in my kitchen."

"You're shitting me."

"I'm not." I laugh quietly at the shocked look on his face. "You haven't spent a lot of time around cats, have you?"

"Not criminal cats, no."

"I told you he was shady." I drop my keys in the bowl beside the door and head toward the back of the house. "I'm going to pack a bag, I guess."

"Where's Brick's stuff?"

I pause, turning to Noah in surprise. "You want to take Brick?"

"He can't stay here alone."

"It's only for the night…"

Noah's shaking his head before I even finish the sentence. "We don't know how long it'll take the sheriff to find these fuckers. It could be a while. You may need to stay with me for a while."

"I can't just move in with you, Noah." I gape at him. "I have things."

"I see that," he murmurs, scanning my living room. "Your shit will be fine, baby."

"Stuff."

A smile dances across his face. "Your stuff will be fine, baby."

"Stop calling me that."

"Whatever you say, baby."

"Oh my God," I groan, throwing my hands up. Next time I see Nash, I'm going to run him over with a Zamboni for sending this man to babysit me. He's impossible. And the more time I spend with him, the more I thinkimpossiblemay be exactly what I like best. He's so freaking unflappable about it. It doesn't matter if I'm rejecting him or telling him not to do something or freaking out on him, it just rolls off him, and he does exactly what he wants anyway.

He steamrolls me in a way that doesn't feel like steamrolling at all. It feels a little like…letting someone else carry the load for once. It's been a long time since I've done that. I've been so hellbent on trying to prove to Nash that I can take care of myself that I've forced myself to carry everything alone.

Noah doesn't ask if he can help carry some of the load. He just does it. Even when I argue about it, he does it. That's dangerous. I could get addicted to it. Just like I could get addicted to the way he calls me baby.

I like it way more than I should.

"I'm going to pack," I grumble.

This time, I make it two steps before Noah stops me. Only, he doesn't halt me with words. He stops me with his hand on my arm.

"Dimples."