I’m pulled from my daze when I hear the back screen door open, then close.
“Lil’ Peach,” I hear Emily call out. “Peach, there’s a pussy cat in the backyard. Do you want to come see it?”
I scrub my hand down my face when the wordpussyleaves her mouth. It drags my thoughts right back to her and what happened in this very spot.
Yes, yes, I do.
Not the one in the backyard, though, the one between those luscious legs of yours. I’ve touched it and had a small taste, but I’ve yet to see it in all its magnificent glory. I’ve yet to devour it like it’s my death row meal.
“Where pussy?” Lil’ Peach screeches as she comes barrelling into the kitchen, her big brown eyes bright with what could best be described as excitement.
I cringe when the word pussy comes out of my sweet baby girl’s mouth, even though she’s referring to the four-legged kind. It’s because my mind is in the gutter right now, but it still sounded all kinds of wrong.
I watch Emily rummage through the pantry beforepulling out a can of tuna. She moves to the next cupboard and grabs two small plastic bowls.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Feeding the cat and giving it some water,” she says, tilting her head like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “It’s obviously a stray and probably hungry.”
I move back to the window and glance into the yard, seeing a big fucking round ball of white and grey fur sprawled in the sun. Its legs twist and bend at impossible angles as it meticulously licks a paw, then rubs it over its face, its tail flicking lazily behind it.
“It doesn’t look like a stray to me,” I deadpan.
Emily pauses as she opens the tuna by tugging on the ring pull. “And how did you work that one out, Einstein?”
I arch a brow at her sass. “It’s morbidly obese to begin with.”
She rolls her eyes, and a smile tugs at my lips.
“Where pussy cat?” Lil’ Peach repeats. I scoop her into my arms and point at it through the window. “Pussy,” she shrieks, and I find myself cringing again.
“It’s a cat,” I grumble, and I hear Emily chuckle.
My gaze flicks back to her, and there’s an amused smile curving her lips as she uses a fork to empty the tin of tuna into one of the bowls.
“It might be pregnant,” she eventually says. “That could explain the size.”
I glance back out the window. “The fact that it’s now licking its own balls has me doubting that assumption,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“Oh, it’s a boy?”
“It appears so.”
“Maybe it moves from yard to yard, and all the neighbours feed it.”
I smirk. “Judging by the way you’re already fussing overit, I’m starting to think you want to sign up for its loyalty program.”
She laughs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Shut up.”
I chuckle and step back as she moves past me with the other bowl. Holding it under the tap, she adds a splash of water.
She pauses and looks up at me. “Do cats drink water? Or should I give it milk? I’ve never had a pet before.”
“For starters, it’s not your pet,” I state. “And secondly, I have no clue. But a little calcium can’t hurt. He’s basically a fur-covered beach ball on toothpicks, and those legs are going to need all the help they can get.” I roll my lips when her eyes narrow.
“That’s mean.”
“No,mia tortina, that’s the truth.”
