Page 5 of The Tiger in the Sack

I smiled behind the visor. She had no idea who I was, and that felt fucking delicious. “I am, of course, the Dread Pirate Poptarts. You may have heard of my cousin Roberts who saves fair maidens from Sicilians and villainous princes.”

She made a sound that was half-laugh, half-exhale, the involuntary kind, the kind that escapes before you’ve decided to let it out, and her foot found the next branch clean, no hesitation.

“Oh, I see. So you only save cats, not betrothed princesses?”

One more branch to go.

“I prefer my princesses a bit more sassy and willing to climb trees to save their cats on their own. However, you must know there’s no accounting for the dangers of the Fire Swamp. In such cases, I will avail myself to assist sassy princesses and their C.O.U.Ss — Cats of Unusual Size.”

We made it to the last branch. The drop from here to the sidewalk was maybe three feet. Normal situation, nothing. In a normal situation she’d have hopped down without thinking about it.

She looked down and her voice came out a little bit squeaky. “It doesn’t look very swampy.”

“It’s Ohio in the summer. Everything is swampy.” Witty pop culture banter might not do the tick this time. was no longer distracting her.

“It’s only about five feet. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights.”

She shook her head. “Not until right this moment. It’s at least thirty.”

“Want me to count them for you?”

“I want you to not make fun of me while I’m trying not to die.”

“You’re not dying. We pre-established that.” I waved my hands in a come to me gesture. “You can do this.”

“Emotionally,” she said, “I could be dying.”

I dropped down. The dirt met my boots with a solid impact and I turned back immediately, arms up.

She looked at my arms. Looked at the drop. Looked at my arms again.

“I will one hundred percent catch you,” I said.

“You’ve got a cat in your jacket.”

I unzipped the jacket, and set Tig on the ground next to Vito. Tig rubbed his chin against Vito’s helmet just like he had mine, and then licked it like he was grooming his new best friend. “He’s secure. Jump. I’ve got you.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Clover.” I watched it register, the way her name sounded, husky, and needy instead of the command I’d intended it to sound like. I watched her attention sharpen, five-ish feet up and staring down at me. “I’ve got you. Jump.”

She jumped.

I caught her like she was Princess Buttercup and I was Andre the Giant waiting by my white horses, and not just some guy with two cats and a motorcycle.

She smelled like warm vanilla and cinnamon with something faintly floral underneath even in the August heat.

“Thank you.” She smiled and I forgot my god-damned name for at least a whole minute. “You can put me down now.”

“Oh, right, yeah.”

I lowered one arm so her feet and legs could drop and hesitated to let her go with the other. She slid one hand between us, right on my chest, and took an infinitely slow step back.

“You didn’t have to stop and help,” she said.

“Seemed like the situation called for it.”

She picked up Tig and the cat rearranged himself over her shoulder like he’d been perfectly fine the whole time and didn’t understand why everyone was so worked up.