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The silence on the phone extended so long that I could practically hear Kitty’s thoughts whirling.
“How about now?” she asked quietly.
My gaze shot to the antique wall clock that had belonged to my grandfather, one of the few relics I’d taken from my parents’ place when I moved out. “It’s late in the evening. I need a shower.”
“If you’re busy—”
“No.”
I didn’t know when she’d make this offer again. Somehow, I doubted doing this was as easy for her as she made it seem. The flashes of pain in her voice, the heavy silences, the loss of her beloved cat…
I just had to go now. I was sure of that in my gut.
“I’m not busy, Kitty. Give me your address.”
After she’d told me where she lived in downtown Kensington Square, not at all far from my Crescent Cove apartment, she hesitated before saying more. “You don’t have to shower. It’s not like a date.”
“Yes, I do. I worked all day. Eau de rabbit isn’t the most appealing.” Even if I’d been too exhausted to wash away the day a short while ago, now I was energized.
I was clearly off my damn rocker. Working too hard. I needed more sleep and less time spent meeting snarky, sad girls with voices like phone-sex operators.
Not that I knew what a phone-sex operator sounded like.
She chuckled softly. “Okay, take your time. I’ll be waiting.”
Those casual words heated my belly like a cup of warm tea on a frosty winter’s night. And I wasn’t a tea drinker.
At least I hadn’t been before.
“You know, you’re being surprisingly trusting compared to last week.”
“I looked you up on Thorny Paw’s website. I like the studious look.”
Guess she liked my reading glasses. “Oh, so you want me for my body?”
“Nope, I want you for your pussy.” Again, she ended the conversation before I knew it was coming.
But this time she left me smiling.
That smile lasted until the heavythwompof boots outside my front door stopped me on the way to the shower. No one had buzzed upstairs for me to release the door so that meant it was probably someone close.
Most likely someone with my last name. Now what?
Never mind the shower I still needed to take, I also still had to round up Lucky and get him into his carrier, a task I never relished despite my healthy supply of fishy treats for just such occasions.
But first, I had to deal with my visitor.
I shoved a hand through my hair, squared my shoulders, and opened the front door to my sobbing sister, Emmaline.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded as she buried her face in her giant fuzzy green mittens.
“The engagement’s off,” she wailed before throwing herself into my arms. I was prepared, since I was used to such displays from my actress baby sister, but there was one part of this visit I wasnotused to.
“Engagement? What engagement?” I gripped her shoulders and drew her away from me. She blinked up at me, her blue eyes awash in tears.
“I didn’t tell you I was engaged?”
“Uh, no? To who?” I set my jaw. “And now you’re not engaged?”
