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Parker and Austin amble up the driveway. Parker is about as subtle as a flashing neon sign with his team hat and shirt. Austin is dressed in regular clothes.
As soon as Parker sees Kitty, his eyes light up. She’s wearing a pair of jeans and a non–Kitty Whisperer shirt. Most of those are loose, but today her shirt is fitted. And it has a V neck.
Kitty is usually a modest dresser. But that V shows off a hint of cleavage. Barely anything, but it was the first thing I noticed when I picked her up. Well, that’s untrue. The first thing I noticed was her pale blue leopard print bra because she was struggling to get into her shirt at the top of the stairs. But the cleavage V was a close second.
And Parker, being an almost-nineteen-year-old walking hormone, can’t seem to control his eyeballs or where they go as he approaches, because they are firmly locked on her chest. He raises his own palm to his beefy pec and stumbles back a step. “I can’t even. I’m in the presence of a celebrity. Kitty Hart? The Kitty Whisperer.”
Kitty glances from Parker to me and back again, questions in her eyes. “Um yes, that’s me, but I’m hardly a celebrity.”
“Parker O’Toole.” He climbs the steps and takes one of her hands between his. “You take care of my great-grandad’s cat, Bumbles. He’s in love with you, by the way. Both my great-grandad and his cat. And I can completely understand why. I’m halfway in love with you already, and I’ve just met you.” He starts to raise her hand to his lips.
Kitty’s eyes are wide. She tries to jerk her hand free, but Parker can bench two hundred and fifty pounds and shoots a puck at over a hundred miles an hour.
“I wouldn’t do that. I just cleaned a litter box, and I haven’t washed my hands yet. You can get worms!” she practically shouts.
Josh coughs to cover a laugh.
“We need you on the ice tomorrow night, not in the ER pumped full of penicillin. And the headline on that would not be great. ‘NHL player hospitalized for ingesting cat feces,’” I add, hoping he’ll get the hint.
He does. He drops her hand and shoves his in his pocket, pulling out a travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer. “Thanks for the warning, and the horrible mental image.” He squirts a dime-sized amount in his massive palm and holds it out to Kitty, who accepts the sanitizer.
“I’m on the team Miles nerds out over numbers and stats for.” He thumbs over to me and Josh. “And this is Austin. He plays right wing, and I play center. Do you watch hockey? You should come to a game.”
“I don’t have a lot of time for TV,” Kitty says honestly. “But my dad was an avid hockey watcher.”
“No time like the present to start. And the live games are the best. I can totally get you tickets.” Parker winks, completely oblivious that he’s making Kitty uncomfortable and that I want to punch him in the face.
“Oh uh, that’s really nice of you—” Her eyes dart my way, and she takes a slight step in my direction.
“Can we get a selfie? You’re a big deal in the cats of Instagram world. I follow you on social media.”
“Way to be creepy,” Josh mutters.
Parker is too busy putting his arm around Kitty’s shoulder and yanking her into his side to catch the dig. And Kitty, being Kitty, is far too nice to say no.
Parker makes a face that reminds me of Derek Zoolander or basically any guy in the history of cocky jocks who believe that every single person in the world would be honored to have a selfie taken with him. To her credit, Kitty knows how to pose for a photo. She angles her body, rolls her shoulders back, adjusts her glasses, and smiles.
Parker takes eleven million pictures in five seconds. As soon as he lowers the phone, Kitty slips out from under his beefy arm and takes one large sidestep toward me and hugs my wiry one. It presses her boob against my biceps, which I appreciate, apart from the fact that other parts of my body are also appreciative, and those parts need to chill out until we’re alone. Hopefully later tonight.
“Miles?”
“Huh?” Clearly I’ve missed something.
“Do you want to check to make sure we’ve got everything before we start loading up?” She tips her head up and bats her lashes at me.
“Oh yeah. Probably a good idea.”
“We can get started with this stuff?” Austin motions to the boxes and furniture on the porch.
“That’d be awesome.”
“I’ll put this box on your hood, so it doesn’t accidentally get put in the truck.” Kitty nods to the box near the steps.
“I can do that.” Parker’s eyes dart between me and Kitty.
