More Than Enough (A Completed Novella)

CHAPTER 3

Henry stepped into the townhouse and immediately scowled. Someone was in here. Cooking. Humming. Filling his apartment with good smells and good company and how the hell was he supposed to be noble in the face of that?

How about she's Ken's sister? You secretly gave money to her parents to fund parts of her life. And she's too. Young.

He jumped when something brushed against his leg. He looked down to find an animal. In his apartment. He was pretty sure it was a cat, but it didn't look to be in the best shape.

Ellen appeared, all brightly painted red smiles. "Hi, honey, you're home!"

"That spare key I gave you was supposed to be for emergencies." Then, because he couldn't let it go, he pointed to the sad little creature at his feet. "That's a cat."

"Yes."

"Why the hell is there a cat in my house?"

"When I went to pick up my car today, I happened to pass the humane society, and, well, I wanted some company for my place and this poor guy was about to get the ax."

"Why is it so…scabby?"

"He has this disease. I've got medication for him though. I'm going to nurse him back to health." She kneeled next to the cat, which happened to be at his feet, which meant if he looked at her the view was down her shirt.

The freckled tops of her breasts. A flowery bra. He had to move. He had to walk, because Ellen's head was way too close to his uncomfortably hardening dick.

The cooing noises she was making at the damn cat weren't helping. He circumnavigated her, going for the closet and hanging up his coat, putting away his boots. "Did I know you were going to be here?"

"Nope," she said cheerfully. "But I wanted to cook, and I hate cooking for one. Especially pasta."

He stepped into his kitchen and frowned at the mess. "What the hell happened in here?"

"I made it from scratch." She pushed past him, stirring something in one pot, then lifting the lid of another.

It smelled amazing. His place never smelled amazing. The cat brushed his leg again and he grimaced. "Your cat is gross."

"Aww, poor scabby cat. He just needs some love and medicine and he'll be an adorable little fluff ball again."

Henry wasn't so sure.

"Why don't you set the table? I brought over a bottle of wine. Pour that. We're almost ready."

The smells, her, the cat. It all felt so domestic. Cozy. Things he'd always envied about the Simms house growing up. Sure, Dad had been a good father, done the best he could, but he wasn't a home-cooked-meal kind of man. There had been a lot of frozen food, bare walls and backslaps. Laughter and love, too, but it was different than the Simms household.

Much different than the easy way Ellen infused everywhere she went with warmth. Which made it impossible to say no to her, to this. The comfort wrapped around him and turned all his self-preservation into acquiescence.

So, he set the table and poured the wine, and gave in to the fact that Ellen and her cat were probably going to be fixtures of his life until Ellen got bored. Maybe that could be okay. Maybe it could even be nice.

As long as he could remember to keep his hands to himself.

*

A curl of satisfaction wound around Ellen's heart as she looked at Henry's empty plate and empty wineglass. His relaxed, handsome face.