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“If Magnus takes me up on my offer, I’ll stay here.” I gave her a hard kiss on the mouth before lifting my head to take a deep breath. “What smells so damn good?”
Following my nose, I walked to the counter and lifted the lid on the Crockpot. The combined scents of simmering meats and vegetables in some kind of fragrant gravy made me groan. “You have to marry me. There’s just no other option.”
My response was dead silence.
Mag was talking in a low voice, clearly inquiring about a hotel room for the next week. Kitty was alternately thumping her hand on his back and stomping on his foot and yanking on his earflaps, to no avail.
My first marriage proposal had gone down like a lead balloon. Didn’t it just figure?
“Mag, don’t be stupid. You don’t have to get a hotel room. There’s space here. You can take the couch.”
“We’ll be using the couch.” I shrugged at Kitty’s narrowed-eyed look. “Location makes a difference. Plus, if my sister wants to stay over—”
“Shit, how many more people can we fit in this apartment?” Kitty shoved her hands through her voluminous hair as Lucky—Lucky?—appeared from behind the sofa, likely lured by the scent of cooking meat just as I had been.
Like father, like son.
“Hey buddy, what are you doing here?”
“Playdate,” Kitty said through gritted teeth over her shoulder.
“Aww, that’s nice.” I bent to motion him closer and he pranced over, tail head high and crumbs from an unknown source dangling from his chin. “Are you guys getting along now?”
“He stole more than his share of fishy treats.”
Magnus coughed. “Gee, there’s a surprise.”
I scooped up Lucky and nuzzled his crumb-laden cheek. “Survival of the fittest, right?”
“How can you tell who’s the fittest when both models haven’t been tested?”
As much as I appreciated confirmation Kitty had never tested Magnus’s model, I didn’t like his attitude. At all. And neither did she, judging from the way her cheeks had bloomed so rosily that every freckle of hers seemed highlighted.
Her freckles were damn cute though.
I frowned. “Get off the phone.”
“Make me.”
“Magnus—” she warned as I set down my cat and stepped toward him.
“If you insist,” I said cheerfully, flexing my fingers.
“Oh my God, I hate men. Maybe I’ll sleep with your sister instead.” Kitty stomped off toward her bedroom, picking up Princess on the way from beside the sofa. She’d inched out from behind it at the mention of fishy treats.
Magnus frowned once she’d slammed her bedroom door shut. “Sister?”
“I have several. The one in question is pregnant and also currently sick of men.” I went back to the Crockpot for another hit of scent. “Look, can we just level with each other?”
“I’d rather not deal with you at all.”
“Oh, I’m sure. But Kitty clearly doesn’t understand why you’re acting like a royal prick, and she’s really hurt right now. I know you don’t want to hurt her.”
“Because of course you’re an expert on her already. Forget her friend who’s cared about her for a long time. You just sweep in and play Superman, right?”
“I didn’t sweep in. You think I was looking for her? I was just doing my job. Sometimes there’s kismet.”
“Oh, Jesus, now he’s on about kismet.”
