Patchworked Hearts {SAMPLE}

Chapter 23

She and Pat had introduced the two cats only several hours before, and it had gone surprisingly well: Gilligan had welcomed Ginger and even played with Helen's cat for ten minutes before growing tired and flopping in the corner. Ginger had explored Pat's home for another hour or so, and then followed Gilligan's example and flopped down as close as she could to the other cat.

It was absolutely adorable, as far as Helen was concerned. Pat, meanwhile, had only said, "I hope they're not excessive with their PDA," before he'd gone out back to chop more wood for the fire. Helen knew he was relieved though; if their cats liked each other, after all, there would be no issues with Helen and Pat spending even more time with one another.

Passing the cats' slumbering forms one more gentle smile, Helen snagged a blanket off the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders like a shawl as she stepped towards the door settled at the rear of the living room that led to a quaint back porch.

One of her favorite things about Pat's house was its seclusion. Even though there were neighbors nearby and it was still in walking distance of the city, the woods in the back and scattered trees out front made her feel as though she was tucked away in a mountain home, safe from all danger.

Of course, that feeling of safety and warmth no doubt had something to do with the distinct smell of Pat—a mix of woodsmoke from his fires and the freshly baked bread he whipped up every few days—that permeated every surface in the house.

Oh yeah, she mused as she propped her elbows on the porch railing, watching Pat as he threw chopped logs into a wheelbarrow, his muscles flexing with each movement, I could get used to this.

Pat halted what he was doing, setting his hands on his hips and scouring the backyard, as though looking for anything he'd missed.

Helen took that moment to make her presence known. "You single, hot stuff?" she called, and then released a low wolf whistle.

Shoulders shaking with his laughter, Pat spun around and cocked up a single brow, his hair ruffled, and his brow dotted with perspiration even in the cold weather. "You look adorable," he called in response, his lips tilted in a cool smirk. "Miss me, sweetheart? It's only been an hour or two."

Turning up the dramatics, Helen slapped a hand against her forehead and leaned sideways. "Oh, I crave your presence! Who am I, without my hunky boyfriend to keep me warm? I've had to replace him with this flimsy blanket, and I won't be happy until he returns."

"'Hunky'?" he repeated skeptically, his brow wrinkled. "Are you hitting on me, Helena?"

"Depends; are you gonna come up here and snuggle with me?" The words were said coyly.

"Depends," he returned in the same manner, "are you gonna make some coffee?"

She couldn't smother her grin as she straightened up and tugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "Meet in the kitchen in five?"

"You've got a deal, gorgeous."

Helen laughed and ducked back inside the house before he could melt her heart further, her hurried steps causing the cats to wake and scatter (Ginger did, anyway—Gilligan only flopped onto his other side).

Once in the kitchen, Helen flipped on the Bluetooth speaker stationed by the stove, tugging her phone out of her jeans and tapping on her favorite playlist before turning to the coffee maker and drifting off into thought.

It was the weekend now, and had been several days since the file search that had ended in disappointment; Addy had confessed to Helen that she didn't think they would find it, and that Isaiah had more likely than not dropped it somewhere and then forgotten all about it. "I think he's allergic to paper," she'd told Helen dryly. "I'll have to check his medical files."