Page 5 of Feline Good

She spoke to the one who seemed friendliest first. “Alright, Tubbi, what the hell is going on?”

He winced, lifting his hands to brush them through the chin-length hair. His arms bunched and rolled with the movement, and she averted her eyes before any of them realized the sight captivated her

“First of all, that is a horrid name, and I despise you a tiny bit more every time I hear it. Obviously, you can see I am not, in fact, tubby.” His words were punctuated with a sweep of his left hand gesturing to his toned, lean, tanned body.

“And Muffin, really?” The other yelled from the back, a grunt following the sarcastic question.

“Seriously. Do I look really damned fluffy?” The last asked, the deadpan expression on his face at odds with the joking tone he used.

Her eyebrows rose high as she turned back to the first. “So you are Tubbi? You were my cat?”

A simple nod answered her, and she quickly continued, the incredulity pouring out of her in a rapid fire interrogation. “How? Why did you change now? Were my cats always...men? Why were you cats in the first place?”

Her last question was yelled, her voice ringing around the older wooden bar walls as her frustration manifested in her tone.

The man just smiled before sharing a conspiratory glance with his companion, who used to be her grumpy cat, Fluffy.

The friendly one turned back to her. “I think before we get into all that, perhaps we should put on some clothes, secure these guys,” he waved a hand at the unconscious men on her bar floor. “...and get a drink.”

“Drinks? I would kill for beer.” Muffin stumbled back into the main bar area, dragging a very unconscious intruder behind him, the same one who’d run off to raid her office.

Averting her eyes, she slowly backed away to the stairs. “Okay, fine. I have some spare clothes that probably will fit, left over from an ex...if those don’t work, we have a lost and found.” Before they could argue, she sprinted up the stairs to her haven and slammed the door shut, throwing the lock just for good measure.

Not that Maya thought they would come after her, but she just needed a moment to think. Her mind was still trying to wrap itself around the idea that the cats she’d owned for well over a decade were most certainly not cats anymore. Maya paused by the loom, her racing heart calming as she thought of her own odd talent: foresight.

Woulda been nice to see all this shit coming!

Maya despised the block that kept her from seeing anything that affected her personally, until after the fact. Stroking the stretched multi-colored threads, a frustrated huff escaped and she pulled her hand away before she could damage the pattern.

In comparison to seeing the future, was this honestly all that weird? Who was she to assume she was the only one in the world who possessed crazy abilities?

Instead of her cute cuddle bugs, three sexy, lean and muscled Adonises were left in their place. Pushing away the odd situation, she stepped away from the loom and stalked to her bedroom to search for spare clothes in her chest of drawers. Luckily, she scrounged up three shirts at the bottom of her ‘donate eventually’ pile that were far too large, due to her exes size, and three pairs of sweatpants that would have to do for now. Maya even grabbed a fourth pair, something in case one of the rats from the dumpster out back decided to change into a hunk as well. After all, Uncle Malak had always warned that she should be prepared for anything.

Maya entertained the possibility that her musings were bordering on hysterical, but with a deep breath, she clutched the worn clothes to her chest and yanked open her apartment door. As she clomped down the stairs, three sets of eyes settled on her, the intensity of the men’s gazes warming her skin. Her adrenaline was wearing off, the shakes from her nerves settling in hard. To hide the tremors, and aid in keeping her facade of nonchalance up, she tossed the clothes on the nearest table and hurried to walk behind the bar, ignoring their chatter as she collected glasses from the dry rack. She also made a concentrated effort not to notice the stack of bad guys piled on the floor, their wrists bound with the very rope they’d used on to restrain her.

The rustle of fabric resonated through the quiet bar as she set the glasses down, calling over her shoulder, “What to drink?” Determined to act as if it was just a normal evening, in her bar, on a boring night… instead of the current clusterfuck she shouldered.

“Three beers, please.” The smooth voice sounded far too close, and she whirled to find Muffin behind the bar with her. This close, she could make out the dark blue ring around his iris, fading to light, then very light teal striations, and finally to a circlet of gold surrounding his pupil. She thought the multitude of colors was stunning, much like the man before her. Trimmed close on the sides, the longer part of his hair fell forward to cover one side of his face in a wash of ebony waves. A light scruff shadowed his cheeks, highlighting his bone structure better than a damned Sharpie.

“What’s your name?” The question tumbled from her lips in a strained whisper, Maya afraid inquiring about his identity would make the whole evening more real. But as the heat from his body warmed hers to the core, she wondered, could this night get any more real?

His voice washed over her, caressing her skin as he reached forward to remove the glass from her ironclad grip, the light touch of their flesh like a flame to the heat between them. The look in his eyes suggested he knew exactly how much the brief contact affected her. “Asher, at your service. My name sure as shit isn’t fucking Muffin. And you’re Maya, I know.” A snort punctuated his amusement as he winked and stepped away, the heat following him, leaving her cold and bereft in the wake of his absence.

Eyes wide, she turned back to grab another pint glass, battling to school her expression and calm her whirling emotions before she faced the three of them again. She was struck by their beauty and swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. The other two were just as handsome as Asher, just as breathtaking.

Ducking below the bar, she gathered her wits about her one more time, grabbing three bottles of beer from the fridge before straightening. With a clatter, she slammed the three bottles on the counter, leveling the males with her best don’t-give-me-any-shit stare. Maya turned to the top shelf behind her, settling for a whiskey that had been calling her name for some time.

Downing a shot for courage, she poured another and… yup, downed it too, before pouring a third and turning with the drink in hand. They eyed her warily as they popped the caps on their beers and poured them into the glasses, in sync, as if practiced many times before.

“What’s your name?” Maya lifted a single finger from her shot glass to indicate the sweet one, who had once been Tubbi.

He grinned after taking a long sip of his drink, a sigh of pleasure escaping his lips at the taste, and Maya suddenly wished to be the reason he made such a sound.

Down, girl.

“I’m August.” He turned to look at the men on either side of him. “This stuff is really good. I can’t believe you guys never let me try it before.”

A red flag went up somewhere in her mind as Asher rolled his eyes, swallowing a sip of his own drink without responding. She turned her gaze back to August, who definitely looked old enough to have tasted beer prior to now.