Taivon: Book Three of the Cantrell Brothers Series

Chapter Seven

When Friday night came rolling around, Alix could do nothing but sit down on her couch. She kept her eyes trained on the front door, as if the simple act of looking would make Taivon get here sooner. Of course, according to the clock, she still had roughly five minutes of waiting to do, which wasn't anything at all when compared to the eternity she'd spent on picking out her wardrobe.

He'd said something about an Italian restaurant, but the fanciness of the eatery had not been mentioned, leaving Alix with a load of questions. Fortunately for her, Leon had stopped by to help her out some, and they'd decided on a pair of her nicer jeans with a loose, white button down shirt that would be transparent if not for the black cami underneath.

He'd left shortly after, not asking her any more questions about who “the guy” was, and Alix was extremely glad that he was gone, too. She could still remember the times her boyfriends in high school had come to pick her up. Leon, the normal older brother, hadn't been the nicest person. Her father hadn't been kind, either, always muttering things underneath his breath at her current boy of the month.

Alix didn't blame them. She'd embraced that rebellious, teenage streak with more ferocity than was healthy. Back in school, when she'd been forced to sit still and listen to boring lectures, she would dream away, not caring about anything else but the pierced guys and getting away. Her body would object to sitting still in her desk, and more often than not, she'd write down different ideas for people who didn't exist.

She glanced at the clock again and saw that her five minutes were up. Taivon would be here any second now, Alix just knew it. He seemed like the type to always be on time. True to her assumptions, a solid three knocks reverberated off the front door exactly on the hour.

Wiping her sweaty hands down the legs of her jeans, she took a deep breath just as her hand came in contact with the cool metal of the doorknob. Below her, Chief let out a pouty meow. His bright, feline eyes looked up at her hand and then at her legs, right before widening as she opened the door just a crack.

Taivon was standing there, on the smooth concrete of the apartment's porch. His thick brown hair blew a little in the slight breeze, the hair of his trimmed beard looking just as soft. He wore his green Carhartt jacket, a pair of worn but clean jeans, and brown ranger's boots. His hand was shoved into his pocket.

She'd never thought that this clean, kempt boy look could ever be attractive, but Taivon had been proving her wrong since night one.

“Hey,” he said, eyes scanning her from head to toe. “You look nice.”

She didn't get the chance to reply; instead, Chief's sudden hissing interrupted her next complement of him. When she looked down, Alix saw the hair on his back raised, his spine arched and matched his poofed out tail.

“Who's this?” Taivon asked just before crouching down, hands on his knees and head craned forward. He outstretched his hand slowly. Chief's back arched more, and another hiss left her cat's mouth.

“This is my cat, Chief.” Alix scooped up her kitty. “Don't know why he's being such a dick. He usually loves people.”

Taivon didn't say anything, only reaching out his hand with a small curve to his lips. He seemed to be enjoying this. As his fingers touched the spot where Chief loved to be pet, her cat reared back in her arms, hind legs clawing at her arms.

“Sorry,” he told her after she put him down. “I thought he'd like-”

“He usually does,” Alix cut him off quickly before walking out onto the porch and slamming the door shut. “I think he's just kinda cranky 'cause he knows he's gonna have to share.”