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“She’s good. Trying to keep busy now that the house is empty. She’s taking a flower-arranging course because she’s convinced there are wedding bells in her son’s future.”
“He’s only Hattie’s age.”
Mom smiles and shrugs. “I think it’s probably more about trying something new than anything else. She asked me if I wanted to join her, and I think I will. It’s only one night a week. It’ll be fun. Besides, you and Hattie are just so busy these days.”
“I’m glad you’ll have company.” It’s good that Mom is making plans with friends instead of spending the night in front of the TV watching old shows.
Mom leaves for work, and I pack an overnight bag. I stop at Kat’s to manage some paperwork. It isn’t my favorite part of the job, but at least I can hang out with Kat for a bit and fill her in on the excitement of the last few days. She sits in the office with me while I fill out invoices, and a new, adorable kitten named Smush climbs all over her. He’s a Persian with a congenital birth defect that makes his face asymmetrical. He has the sweetest disposition.
“That must have been scary.” Kat’s eyes are wide as I explain my unexpected trip to the emergency room. “Anaphylactic reactions are no joke.”
“It was a harrowing fifteen minutes, that’s for sure. And now I’m nervous about him coming to the house. It’s weird, though, because he’s been coming there for nearly two weeks, and it’s the first time he’s had any kind of reaction. But he’s going for tests, so hopefully he’ll get some answers soon, and I don’t have to be anxious about it anymore.”
Kat arches a brow. “Sounds like you’ve changed your tune about the cat-hating jerk.”
“I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot.” I shrug. Since I’ve gotten to know him a bit better, my impression is shifting. “Now tell me about your date with Brad. I need all the details.” We haven’t been able to make our schedules align recently, so this is the first chance we’ve had to really sit down and chat since they went out.
Kat fills me in on her date, which ended with a toe-curling kiss and a request for a second date. After I’m finished with invoices, we spend half an hour taking videos with Smush and include a few of the kitten products for our sponsors, and then I’m off to love some kitties.
Later in the evening I make another stop to see Prince Francis. The second I slide the key in the lock, he meows from the other side of the door. I carefully push it open, and he rushes onto the front porch, weaves between my ankles, then promptly throws himself down at my feet and stretches out, little paws curling as he kneads the air.
“How’s my favorite naked kitty? Were you a good boy today?”
He rolls to his feet and scales my leg. I pick him up, and he immediately rubs his face against mine, licks my cheek a couple of times, and then burrows through my hair, his whiskers tickling the back of my neck. He stretches himself around my shoulders and hangs around the back of my neck like a living stole.
The living room is in its usual chaotic state with boxes overturned, and the remaining mantel gnomes litter the floor.
His ear twitches against my cheek as I sigh. “Oh, Prince Francis, what am I going to do with you?”
He nudges me with his wet nose and licks the edge of my jaw. Then he tries to bite my earlobe before he starts purring. Ironically, or depressingly, depending on how one looks at it, this is the most action I’ve gotten in a long time. Apart from the unexpected hug and the accidental key-retrieval peen graze. I wish my interactions with Miles were slightly lower on the embarrassment scale.
“We’re having a sleepover tonight. Does that sound good to you?” I rub his whiskery cheek.
He meows and starts purring, as though he understands.
I feed Prince Francis, hunt down the vacuum, and suck up the catnip toy that’s now a shredded mess, before I tackle the fallen gnomes.
I’ve just finished cleaning up when I get a message from Miles, indicating he’s stopping by in a few minutes.
My heart rate kicks up a few notches, and of course, because my brain does what it wants, an image of him from this morning pops into my head. His hair was a sexy mess, eyes still heavy with sleep, lips back to their normal, full, luscious condition. His long, lean limbs were wrapped in a rumpled white T-shirt that hugged his chest and showed off the hint of a six-pack. Or maybe a four-pack, but I’ve never seen him shirtless, so I’m totally guessing.
