Knox closes the door gently, climbs in, and moments later, we pull away.
The ride back is quiet. Knox hums along to something low on the radio—Duran Duran, perhaps. I rest a hand near the carrier and keep my eyes on the little furballs as they curl together.
We turn onto our street, and my heart starts ticking a little louder.
I’ve only seen the outside of Knox’s house. The thought of stepping inside feels…significant.
He parks and grabs the supply crate from the trunk while I carefully cradle the carrier. The porch creaks under our weight, and when he opens the front door, I step inside slowly.
Knox’s house is nothing like I expected.
Not sparse and bachelor-cold. Not overly polished either. It’s warm but dated: time-worn hardwood floors, faded area rugs, and built-in bookshelves with mismatched volumes, some clearly decades old.
A dark, cozy-looking sectional centers the living room, and across from it is a fireplace framed by smooth, gray stone. A single photo sits on the mantel—an older couple in wedding attire.
Must be his grandparents.
Pale light filters in through gauzy curtains, and there’s a lingering masculine scent that’s not overbearing but comfortable.
“Living room’s probably best,” Knox says, setting the crate down near the hearth.
I nod, still taking it all in. “This place is nicer than I imagined.”
He shrugs, modest. “Still the same as it was when my grandparents gave it to me ten years ago.”
“It’s cozy.”
“Sure feels that way.” He scans the supplies. “They may need another blanket. Be right back.”
Knox ducks out, and I unpack the crate and spread its contents across the floor. The kittens mewl as I transfer them one by one, careful to keep them close together.
Minutes later, Knox returns with a folded fleece blanket. He crouches beside me, tucking the heating pad beneath it, inside the crate.
“I’ll take the overnight feeding shifts.” He sits beside me on the floor, knees bent. “You’ll take the day shifts?”
“Deal,” I reply, cool and collected, though the ease of dividing feeding shifts like we’re a team sends a flutter down my spine.
We sit side by side in silence, the tiny sounds of sleepy kittens filling the room.
There’s no flirting or sexual tension.
Just twoonly neighborsfostering newborn kittens, and me pretending that being near him doesn’t feel better than being alone.
Maybe, for now, that’s all I need.
CHAPTER 8
Knox
Three days in, the living room smells like formula, I haven’t slept more than four hours straight, and both kittens already have names.
Somehow, my furry roommates have taken over—and I’ve let them.
Stripe’s the caramel-coated loudmouth. Bold. Bossy. Full of main-character energy and seemingly trying to escape from the crate like he’s got someplace better to be.
And yeah, I’ve grown attached. Though I’d never admit it out loud.
Shadow, with a smoky M between her eyes, is much quieter. She gets all of Cami’s coos and gentle cradling as an actual baby would.
