“With all the off-and-on periods included . . .” I think about it. “Maybe a year.”
The finger on my forearm stills for a moment.
“A year,” he says, then continues with his pattern. “That’s a long time. Does he live nearby?”
“Yeah, but he’s in India right now. A yoga retreat or something like that. He probably sent someone to handle the fridge thing for him. Why do you ask?”
“I hear India’s nice. He should consider staying there. It would be good for his health.”
I squint my eyes at him. “Why? Because of the tropical climate?”
His fingers move back down to my palm. “Because of the air.”
God, I love this man’s voice. My eyes land on his watch and, reluctantly, I pull my hand away from his. “I have to go. I have an appointment with the vet for my cat.”
“I’ll drop you off.” He takes ou
