CHAPTER EIGHT
Casey stared up at the ceiling. Eight, nine, ten, she counted the cracks in the plaster, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen. Finally giving it up as a waste of time she pushed the blankets aside and climbed out of bed.
Tigger watched her suspiciously.
Giving the cat an off-handed pat, she stumbled through the dark to the kitchen.
One hand fumbled clumsily for the switch. The sudden blinding light surprised her and she squinted until her eyes were no more than tiny slits. Looking through the protective barrier of her eyelashes she glanced at the clock on the wall above the refrigerator. It was 11:55. Too late to be up, but sleep was proving elusive tonight, too many thoughts floated through her mind.
Casey stumbled to the fridge and pulled out a half empty liter of milk, then grabbed a handful of cookies from the blue glass cookie jar next to the stove and plunked herself down at the table. She saluted the poster of Mount Snowcap decorating the wall opposite her and took a long swig directly out of the milk carton.
Why couldn’t life ever be simple?
It wasn’t a difficult concept. Work, play, meet a nice man, fall in love and live happily-ever-after. It worked for millions of women everyday. Why not her? She took a big bite out of one of the chocolate chip cookies.
Because you always pick the wrong man, a little voice in her head mocked.
With a groan Casey let herself fall forward until her head was resting on the smooth wood of the tabletop. It wasn’t fair. She wailed to herself as she chewed her cookie.
Somehow just over lunch Andrew had managed to become firmly embedded under her skin. He was handsome, charming, fun to be with, funny and warm… as perfect as any girl could want.
So, what was the problem?
Everything.
Scott had also been handsome and charming and fun. He had also been a liar and a cheat. She had only found out when it was nearly too late. And she had been burned…. Badly. Sometimes the pain was still as fresh as the day he walked out; back to the wife she hadn’t even known he had. Sometimes her anger more than compensated. Occasionally, and more often this month, than last month, or the month before, she didn’t think about him at all.
But she didn’t like being taken for a fool.
Now… Andrew. She had no idea where it was going to go but already the attraction was becoming more than she had ever expected. Straightening in her chair, she took a gulp of cold milk to wash down the cookie and laughed at herself. Not that attraction was a bad thing….
But he didn’t live here, he didn’t even live anywhere really. And had already warned her quite clearly that he wasn’t going to stay.
Was she a strong enough person to enjoy the time they had together and say ‘Thanks, it was fun’ when it ended? Because it would end. That was something she could guarantee. She couldn’t follow him, even if he asked.
She bit into another cookie contemplatively. It wasn’t that she was completely averse to playing with matches… Andrew could turn even the most cautious individual into a pyromaniac, but she’d have to be careful. She’d have to make sure he didn’t get too close.
That might be easier said than done.
Casey sighed. The best thing to do was just take one day at a time and have as much fun as possible. No use worrying about the future before it occurred. Maybe he’d end up being a self-centered jerk that hates kids and kittens. Maybe this time she could enjoy a relationship without getting hurt in the process.
Yeah, and maybe the moon really is made of blue cheese.
Besides, she was going to be too busy with the bookstore to see much of him anyway. He’d be gone before she knew it, and the memory of their time together would be relegated to just another one of those life files that would shape the way she looked at any other man who came across her path later. Somehow she had the feeling that any other man would have a hard time living up to this particular memory.
With a tired sigh, Casey gulped back the last of the milk, finished off her cookies and returned to bed.
Tigger had taken the opportunity of her absence to burrow onto her side of the bed. His body was under the covers and only the tips of his ears showed on the pillow. Throwing back the covers, Casey grabbed the cat and deposited him on his blanket at the end of the bed.
Tigger hissed and arched his back at her as she reclaimed her space.
“Same to you, you nasty fur-ball.” She retorted fondly. She reached down and scratched him between the ears.
Tigger collapsed in a heap of purring cat flesh.
“You big faker.” Casey laughed. Pulling her comforter up over her chin she fell into a deep sleep, a smile appearing as she dreamt of Andrew and the weeks ahead.
**********