Page 152 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

Mr. Cheddar ignored her and inspected my shoes.

“Is he judging me?”

“Yes. But he judges everyone. Try not to take it as a personal attack.”

The cat sniffed, sneezed, and stalked under the desk, where a velvet cushion had been placed in a patch of weak winter sun.

“I’ve been assessed and dismissed.”

“High praise.”

“Maeve mentioned him. He’s your rescue, isn’t he?”

“I suppose he is.”

Under the desk, Mr. Cheddar lowered himself onto the cushion with the slow dignity of a retired emperor.

“He looks well.”

“He’s thriving. Too lazy to bring mice now, thank God. He used to leave them on the step like little declarations of war.”

“Or love. But still charming.”

“You’ve never had a cat.” Presley rolled her eyes. “Dead mice are not a sign of love. Luckily, now he brings one toy mouse to the cottage door every morning and then lies beside it until someone praises him for his contribution to the household.”

Mr. Cheddar opened one eye.

Presley looked down at him. “Yes, you’re very brave.”

He shut his eye again.

“He has escalated in my affections,” Presley said. “Turns out a cat who stops hunting and starts demanding applause is exactly my sort of man.”

For a while, we ate tiny sandwiches and something lemony that Fritz’s mother had brought but declared too British but had eaten two of. Presley asked about the babies, about nausea, about whether Hudson and Lincoln were hovering enough or in need of instruction.

“They hover professionally,” I said.

“Good. Amateur hovering is very stressful. If they’re not doing it right.” She raised her hand and swiped across her neck.

“Kill them?”

“No, they’re not good alphas. Do they feed you?”

“Lincoln brought me breakfast in bed this morning, which was very nice and unexpected. He buys me a certain cake I like without asking and—.”

“Men who feed you quietly are dangerous.”

“Hudson gave me a folder of medical contact details sorted by specialty.”

Presley paused with a sandwich halfway to her mouth. “That’s both erotic and upsetting.”

“Thank you. I didn’t know how to categorize it.”

“Otherwise known as stationery foreplay. Men in suits are good at that.”

I nearly choked on my tea.

Presley looked delighted. “Knew she was in there.”