Chapter 15
“What are you doing?” Maybe-Butch had appeared deceptively slender from a distance. Up close, I could see the strength of his arms. The cat-like grace of his movements.
Whoever this was, I’d recognize him if I ever met him again.
“Packing,” I answered, turning the excuse into truth before I spoke it. If this really was Butch, I’d need to gather up my clothes and toothbrush before moving in with his boss for the foreseeable future. “It might take awhile.”
“I’ll wait inside, if you don’t mind.”
He brushed past me. I can’t explain how exactly. It’s not as if I was a slave to politeness. But one moment I was blocking the way into my apartment, the next moment Maybe-Butch was settling down cross-legged on my couch.
Now I was the one to ask: “What are you doing?”
“What does it
