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She didn’t look up.
Exhaling sharply, he put his truck in park and pocketed the keys before walking over to join her. She glanced up, apprehension filling her expression until she recognized him. “Bryan.” Her relief was audible. “I didn’t expect you to show up yet.”
“Obviously not,” he said, more roughly than he’d intended. She’d abandoned her car on the side of the road leading into the lot, no blinkers on, door wide open for anyone to come by and sideswipe her vehicle, the same one she’d been driving since high school.
He rounded her hood and shut the driver’s door before rejoining her in the grass. “Get up. You’re going to get frostbite.”
A chorus of startled mews made him shut his eyes and pray for strength. Once he opened them again, he glimpsed furry heads poking out of the bag she held. “How did you find those?”
“Someone put them in this paper bag. I saw it moving. At the shelter, we’re trained to check out boxes and bags because that’s the way a lot of pets get dumped.” She shook visibly as she stumbled to her feet, cradling the wriggling charges to her chest. Five or five hundred, they were making a hell of a lot of noise. “They’re just babies. Who would do this?”
“Sicko creeps. Let’s get you inside. And them,” he added at her impatient glance. He looped his arm around her shoulders. When she cuddled against him, all he could think about was how small and fragile she was. “Come on.”
“No, wait. I’ll take them to the animal shelter. They have supplies that I don’t.”
“Like what? They’re cats.” Antsy, squalling cats from the looks of things. The bright side appeared to be that there were only two. One orange, one pitch-black. “Cats eat, pee, and poop. You can figure that out here.”
“They’ll need to be bottle-fed. Their eyes are barely open.” She hoisted the orange one high, and little paws flailed in the air until Bryan gave in and cupped it between his palms. The tiny thing only screamed louder, its small body twisting in his hold. “They have warming drawers at the shelter, too.” She was already hurrying toward her rust bucket with the black one tucked between her neck and shoulder.
“No. Jill, wait. Park your car. I’ll take you.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can handle this.”
The orange kitten let out a bellow and he cursed. What was he supposed to do? Abandon the cat? He couldn’t. It was shaking from cold or fear, maybe both. “Jill, do as I said, and let’s go.”
“Fine.” She slammed her door shut and zipped her car into a parking space before hurrying over to his vehicle.
She climbed inside the passenger side as he slid into the driver’s seat, her hand under her shirt. He gaped for a full thirty seconds at the movements going on under her top. “You stuck the cat under your shirt?”
“It’s freezing.” She closed her door and sat back in her seat. “You should do the same. And turn up the heat.” Before he could, she started fiddling with the dials and buttons. Rap music blared out of the speakers, and a wave of heat hit him full in the face. “There.” Inexplicably, she sounded pleased. “That’s better.”
“Says who?” He shut his own door and gazed at the screamer in his lap. This was how they were spending their first pseudo-date?
At a loss, he undid the first couple buttons of his shirt and shoved the kitten inside, looking up at Jill’s laughter. “Shut up,” he muttered, hating that he wanted to grin at the amusement transforming her face. God, she was so pretty.
“Shutting. Do you know where the Haven View shelter is?”
The cat squirmed, dragging spaghetti claws over his chest as he put the vehicle in gear. “Yeah.”
“You do?”
“Yes, I do. I was born in this town, you know. I’m not some stranger.”
“Sorry. I appreciate you driving me—us.”
“Don’t worry about it. Oh, and there’s no way this counts as a date, by the way. No sex, no date. We’re going to make sure you get the practice you deserve.” At her glare, he laughed and said, “The first night we were together counts as the first of the five.”
“Oh, thank God. I’d hate it for it to be five nights in addition to that one.” Before he could decide if she was screwing with him, she laid a hand on his wrist. “Want me to take the orange one?”
“Why? Because it’s trying to eviscerate me? Nah.” Cupping the jumpy bundle in one palm against his belly, he gave her a grim smile and swung out of the lot. “I live for pain.”
In no time, they were at the shelter. Jill hurried up to the front counter and spoke to the young lady manning it. “Is Pete on duty tonight?”
“No. Sorry. He has the night off. But Joan’s here.”
Before Bryan could wonder who Pete was and why the young assistant went all gooey-eyed at his name, an older woman in sensible lace-up shoes shot into action. “Come with me,” she said, dragging them into an examining room in the back.
The orange kitten was unceremoniously dug out of his shirt—and said kitten was in no hurry to let go, judging from the skin it flayed off Bryan’s abdomen—and set on a steel table along with its brethren. The two of them toddled around, meowing pitifully while Jill and her co-worker poked and prodded them, taking measurements and temperatures and talking in short, staccato bursts.
