Apparently she sensed that, too, because she changed the subject. “Thanks for taking such good care of Nat. It makes it easier for Reid, knowing you’re looking out for her. You should have heard the two of them on the phone when she told him you’d taught her to rappel—she was so excited and he was so jealous.” She put a hand on his arm. “I don’t know if you realize how much she depends on you. We both do. We all do.”
He managed a nod. As nice as it was to hear, he could feel the familiar heaviness pressing against his rib cage, coiling like a cobra around his windpipe. He breathed in deep, filling his lungs. An open field at his back and still that closed-in feeling.
Parker gave him a sympathetic smile edged with concern. “Too much touchy-feely? You’re looking a little green. Even more than before, I mean.”
Nat came back around the corner, a cardboard box cradled in her hands. Joe’s throat went tight again. The way the kid was beaming—he had a bad feeling about this.
When she reached him she gently pressed the box into his stomach. He looked down, and stifled a groan.
Nat clapped her hands. “Isn’t she cute? And she’s just what you need, ’cause you’re always complaining about mice. What’re you going to name her?”
“I...don’t know.”
“I could name her for you, if you want.”
He looked up, away from the kitten’s anxious amber gaze. His arms quivered as he toyed with the idea of pushing the box right back at Nat. But the cat chose that moment to let loose an entreating mewl.
Oh, man.
“We found three,” Nat said. “Harris and I each got a black-and-white one. I brought you the orange one ’cause she’s special.”
A muffled sound, coming from his right. Was that...was Parker laughing at him? He threw her an ominous look.
The kitten meowed again and Joe’s hands tightened on the box. “Uh...what did Harris say when you gave him his?”
Nat watched him, her face expectant. “He said ‘thank you.’”
Another muffled laugh before Parker finally came to his rescue. She scooped the kitten out of the box and cradled it to her chest. “Maybe Joe needs to think about it,” she told her daughter gently. “A pet is a big responsibility. He might need to work his way up to it.”
Too bad he couldn’t enjoy his sense of relief, since it came along with a hefty dose of guilt. Then he saw the hurt in Nat’s gaze and the relief evaporated altogether. He dropped the box, reached out and carefully freed the cat from Parker’s arms. He held the kitten aloft and turned it this way and that, wincing as the needle-sharp claws dug into his skin.
“Looks like a mouser to me.” He held the kitten against his shoulder and regarded Nat solemnly. “Thank you, sport. I’ll take good care of her.”
“I knew you’d love her!”
“I don’t have any—”
“We brought supplies.” Parker gave Nat’s arm a light shake. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get Joe set up and then be on our way. He has things to do and so do we.” While Nat skipped ahead, Parker made a face, reached over and stroked the kitten’s downy head. “You don’t have to keep her. I tried to convince Nat she should ask you first, but she just couldn’t resist bringing her along.”
“Smart kid.”
“We’ll take her back if it doesn’t work out.” He must have looked grateful at that offer because Parker looked disappointed. Still, she knew how hard he worked to keep his life simple. For some reason she—and most of the women he knew—considered that a challenge. And no one could complicate a situation like a woman.
They walked in silence. She stopped him before they reached her truck. “I am sorry, Joe. About your brother. I didn’t even know you had one, until Hazel mentioned him.”
“It’s not something I talk about. But thanks.” He sucked in a breath as the kitten tried to climb his neck. “For everything.”
Ten minutes later, Joe had yet to figure out where to put the damned litter box. The bathroom was too small, the kitchen didn’t bear thinking about and the bedroom was off-limits—the last thing he wanted to hear in the middle of the night was the scrape of claws on plastic. He finally slid the tray under the reception counter, out of sight of the guests but close enough so he’d know right off when it needed cleaning. In went the cat. She immediately started digging, flinging sprays of clay onto the floor.
He had a name for the creature, all right. But he doubted Nat—or her mother—would appreciate it.
The kitten made him think of Allison. He remembered hearing her once say she wanted a cat but spent too much time at the office to make it practical. He’d mocked her at the time. He looked down at Nat’s gift, currently chewing on an electrical cord. With a sigh he snatched her up.
How about you, Gallahan? Anyone proud of you?
His neck muscles went tight. Damn her for bringing the memories back. For reminding him of the life he’d left behind. Of the person he’d been and never wanted to be again. Of disillusionment and betrayal.
Of what he wanted and could never have.
He was tired of money and he was tired of manipulation, in all its forms. Still, he’d already accepted one responsibility today. What was one more?
With that thought, he set the kitten down, snatched up his phone and followed the orange ball of fluff into the kitchen. It bothered the hell out of him that he still knew the number by heart.
“Tackett here.”
“Vince. It’s Joe.”
A pause. Tackett was trying to decide how to play it. Joe wasn’t in the mood for games.
“Let Allison handle the client. She’s more than capable.”
“Mahoney wants you.”
“Unless he’s passing through northeast Pennsylvania and needs a room for the night, I can’t help him.” Joe squatted and scratched at the leg of his jeans. The kitten tensed then pounced, and Joe couldn’t help but smile. “Give her the promotion. She’s earned it.”
“So did Danielle Franks.”
“Got a feeling they earned it in very different ways.”
“You get back here and give Mahoney what he wants and I’ll make sure Allison gets what she wants.”
Fine. A bluff it would be. Slowly, Joe straightened. “You’re not hearing me. I’m not coming back.”
Another pause, this one measured by a series of heavy breaths. But when Vince spoke again his voice carried a casual shrug. “Then Allison’s done at Tackett & Pike.”
Son of a bitch. “You’re willing to sacrifice one of your best employees for Mahoney’s account?”
“I’ll sacrifice every schmuck in the whole damned company for Mahoney’s account.”
Joe swung around and glowered through the window over the sink. He frowned at the tree line, wondering what exactly Nat had seen earlier.
No. What he was doing was trying to ignore the guilt that had been squirming in his gut ever since Allison had laid into him. The very last thing he wanted to do was return to the rat race—hell, T&P had more rodents than Joe had ever had to chase out of his motel. And he knew damned well that as soon as he stepped foot in Alexandria, Vince would start his campaign to keep him there on a permanent basis.
Allison’s elegant face flashed through his thoughts and he scrubbed his fingers through his hair, as if he could scour the image