In ancient times cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this.

Terry Pratchett

Lisa tried to avoid her neighbor for the next few days. He seemed to lead a relatively unsteady life and didn't follow a fixed schedule. Sometimes she saw him jogging, then leaving the house with his large sports bag. He didn't get many visitors, though of course she only observed him fleetingly. Of course.

In between, she followed her own rhythm. She went running herself before the late services and after the early services, and used the free hours around the night services for housework and shopping. Her avoidance tactics went well for about two weeks until they failed brilliantly.
It must have been just after 9 p.m. when she got home after an exhausting shift. She had been caught in a thunderstorm during a manhunt and had needed every ounce of talent and experience to land her helicopter, Libelle 12, safely at Hanover Airport. After days like that, she felt drained, at the end of her rope, and she was more than grateful to finally discover her little duplex at the end of the cul-de-sac. It was drizzling and Lisa heard the miserable mewing of a cat as she got out of the car. She followed the sound across the street and, after a brief search, spotted Moses in the tree of a chestnut tree. »Well, you sure got yourself in a jam there, handsome.«

The cat just clawed at his branch and looked down at her miserably.

Briefly, Lisa considered ringing Darrer's bell but decided against it. »It's okay, little one, I'll save you!«

Plucky, Lisa jumped to the lowest branch and slowly pulled herself up. Just as she reached Moses, she saw a motorcycle turn into the street. It slowly rattled on and stopped in front of her cottage. She exhaled in annoyance. Obviously a new admirer. The man parked his machine and took off his helmet.

Underneath, a thin ponytail came into view. Apologetically, Lisa glanced at the cat, who was staring at her in irritation. Patience didn't seem to be his strong suit. At least he had stopped mewing. United in misery. With a cat. How wonderful.

The man scratched his ear and turned his face so she could get a closer look at it in the light of the lantern. He had a beard and appeared to be considerably older, perhaps in his mid-forties. His face was rough and wild. Not uninteresting, but not really attractive either. The motorcycle was more impressive. Not that she cared much for it, but many of her colleagues did and rode their machines to work. So, of necessity, she knew her way around a bit. It appeared to be a real Harley. Great, her grandmother sent her a rocker.

She pressed her head against the rough branch. The chestnut had lost most of its leaves, but again she didn't expect anyone to look up. This time, fortunately, there were no windows, the houses were on the other side of the sidewalk, and it was dark in Darrer's half of the house. Indecisive, the rocker looked at her house, the front yard, and her old Renault. Then he looked down the street. She followed his gaze and saw Darrer jogging in her direction in running clothes. His steps were slow and leisurely. This man really had an unerring sense of bad timing.
Lisa took advantage of the unguarded moment to stare at him at length for once. His presence affected her like catnip to a kitten, and she hated it. He came closer and closer, and when he noticed the motorcyclist outside her door, he stopped. Unfortunately, right under her tree. In the meantime, the rocker had probably decided that he didn't fit into the suburban idyll and started his machine.

With a roar, he left the street and nodded stoically at Darrer as he passed. Lisa held her breath. But contrary to her pessimistic expectations, nothing happened. Unfortunately, beneath her, too. Instead of finally going into his house, this impossible man actually started doing stretching exercises in front of her tree. Moses, irritated by the loud noise of the motorcycle, gave Lisa an arrogant look that seemed to express, in cat language, what he thought of her rescue skills shown so far. On gentle paws, he easily climbed down the tree, where he jumped at the feet of his stunned master.

»Well, where did you come from?« The ungrateful cat rubbed against Darrer's legs and, meowing, told the whole sorry story, which Darrer, fortunately, did not understand. But then he looked up. Crap.

Lisa saw Darrer's eyes widen in surprise when he caught sight of her among the branches. Then he started grinning broadly. Moses seized the moment and hopped over the fence into Darrer's garden. Darrer cleared his throat. »So, you really do show up in the most unusual places.«

Lisa sheepishly brushed a strand of hair from her face and smiled noncommittally. »Good evening.«

»Do I actually want to know what you're doing in that tree? With my cat?«

»No, probably not,« Lisa grumbled. She carefully began to climb down the tree, aware that she was giving him a good view of her backside. Fortunately, she was wearing jeans.

»I have to admit, you're making me curious. Are you part of a rocker group now? Hells Angels, maybe?«

She refused to answer him and concentrated on climbing. One branch at a time. The bark felt dry. Not to think if she lost her grip and fell off the tree like a rotten apple.

»Well, come on, you can be completely honest. A drug deal in disguise? Problems with the prostitutes? Gang trouble?«

Her foot slipped and she felt him come to her aid and support. With her last ounce of strength, she clung to her dignity and held onto the branch so she was dangling right in front of him.

»It was actually about a contract killing.« Lisa tried to stare at him menacingly, but he just grinned. Really insanely beautiful blue eyes. Before he could step closer, she opened her hands and disengaged herself from the chestnut. »And if you know what's good for you, you'll reimburse me for my pizza.« With these words, she was going to walk towards her front door. Slow and cool this time. Unimpressed.

She heard him laugh. »If you want a date, all you have to do is say so - I'm at your disposal.«

Lisa said goodbye to her unimpressed attitude, turned around, and stuck her tongue out at him. The knowing look on his face shooed her indoors faster than the light rain did, after all. She had never met a man so aware of his effect on women. It was unnerving. Exhausting. Hot.

After pulling the front door closed behind her, she leaned back against the wood. Her hair hung tangled and wet down her head. Her friends always accused her of being far too demanding, but she didn't think so. Being picky had never hurt anyone. Since the only working relationship around her had been with her grandparents, she had decided early on not to give herself up for anything less. It wasn't that she generally avoided relationships in the process, but she had created a mental list for herself. Reliability was important. Trust and common ground. Anyway, a hot professional athlete with a penchant for catching her in awkward situations was clearly out of her league. And she refused to follow her mother's example and fall for a pretty face. Not with her.