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I didn’t have illusions that I was some sex god who would make any woman’s heart skip a beat—or a woman to screamdear God, Sven, your cock is piercing me so deep I feel you everywhere—but I was used to a certain level of response. Objectively, I was attractive. Women were always propositioning me. I couldn’t count how many times I’d been hit on at work.
But Kitty didn’t seem affected in the same way, even after suggesting we have condomless sex within hours of meeting in the flesh. True, she’d wanted to comfort me after saving the pug, but that was a whole lot of soothing considering I was a near-stranger.
Not that I minded. No, ma’am. I just wished I’d been able to take her up on her offer.
I also wished I had the bottle of cheap whiskey she’d decimated. At least I could’ve been drunk while waiting for her response instead of vacuuming up a thick mat of black cat hair from my sofa.
The owner of said hair had been pissed at me today for introducing him to Princess Goldenrod. Granted, he’d apparently spent most of his evening in the bathroom.
If I didn’t stop thinking about Kitty’s offer very early this morning, I had a feeling I would too.
Hello, cold shower.
When she finally got back to me, I was trying to reach under the couch with a sheaf of paper towels for what looked suspiciously like the remnants of Lucky’s dinner. The stinky pile of tuna along with a honking hairball somehow fit the rest of the day.
I dealt with the mess then sprayed a cat-safe scent neutralizer and inched backward—right into the coffee table, knocking off the lamp and a stack of books and bruising the hell out of my leg.
But I still snatched my phone to check my messages without even a care for my personal safety. That just proved how conscientious I was.
Or how horny.
I read her message with a raised eyebrow, my most typical expression when dealing with this vexing woman.
Kitty
I’d be quite fine with it. Does this mean any future meetups with Princess Goldenrod are canceled? If so, I have other avenues to explore but I do thank you for your service.
I hadn’t serviced her yet. What the hell?
Here I’d been trying to ease her into trying a real dating thing—at least for Thanksgiving weekend—and she was ready to lose me like last week’s crumpled-up newspaper.
And other avenues to explore? Had Theresa gone behind my back to send Kitty her stacks of messages?
Damn horndogs.
Just like you, hmm?
Then I reread my initial text and realized it sounded as if I was rejecting her help before she’d even truly offered it. So much for being perfectly functional on not enough sleep.
I started to type then backspaced and started again. Something crashed in the kitchen and I kept typing.
And backspacing.
My caps button kept getting stuck every time I wrote OTHER AVENUES?
Finally, I changed tacks completely.
Just what am I supposed to tell Lucky? He’s already attached to Princess Goldenrod.
So that was a bit of a leap considering that morning’s incessant yowling, but at least I hadn’t diminished my cool factor—much—by ranting like a jealous knob.
Again she didn’t respond in a timely fashion. I was left with no choice but to check on the chaos in the kitchen, only to discover my cat hanging from the metal basket of bananas over the counter. And the little bastard had the nerve to give me an innocent look as he swung by one paw.
I was actually speechless as I rushed to grab him, but I was a moment too slow and the metal basket detached from the ceiling due to the additional bulk of an overweight cat using it for a playground.
Lucky dropped to the floor and pranced away, tail held high while I swore under my breath and bent to collect the bananas.
I grabbed my phone and noted Kitty’s lack of response with a frown.
