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“Your nose stabbed me in the crotch.” I accept his offered hand and stop protectively cupping myself since there’s still a huge group of partygoers standing around us in a semicircle.
“I’m sorry. I’d offer to kiss it better right now, but that would be awkward with all of these people watching.”
I chuckle and blush.
“Rain check, though?”
“Absolutely.”
I let him pull me to my feet, and his teammates break into a round of applause and whistling. I brush it off as no big deal. I’m not sure most of them realize it was me who let the raccoon into the house in the first place.
We stay for a while longer, but once the adrenaline starts to leave my body, the fatigue that comes with this much socializing, plus the raccoon drama, sets in. I’m envious of the way Cleveland and Barnaby are curled up together in his dog bed in the living room, oblivious to the party.
Miles and I say our goodbyes, and we get in his car and head to his apartment.
“I’m sorry about your cape.” It ended up in the trash since the raccoon peed and pooped all over it.
“Don’t apologize. It was worth losing a cape to see you be such a badass. You totally saved the day.” He kisses my knuckle. “I can’t wait to get you back to my place and out of your Catwoman suit.”
“Or maybe we should leave them on,” I suggest, sort of joking, sort of not.
“Maybe we should,” he agrees.
We make it back to his place in record time.
chapter twenty-three
PAWS-ITIVELY PURRFECT
Kitty
After the Halloween party, my social media accounts see another spike in new followers. Being tagged by a bunch of professional hockey players and their significant others is incredible free marketing. It doesn’t hurt that someone took a video of me saving the raccoon. Thankfully, they cut the video before I took Miles to the floor. And the angle didn’t show his face mashed into my crotch.
There always seems to be a counter action to the positivity, though. Along with the new followers comes a barrage of private messages and comments—some of them disparaging. I get called some nasty names, and of course there are horrible jokes about me offering up my personal kitty services to hockey players now. It’s disgusting and mortifying.
It’s the Wednesday after the party. I meant to visit Kat on Monday, but my schedule was so hectic, with cat visits and managing/deleting/monitoring the social media stuff, that I couldn’t make it work. I bring a load of old blankets and towels with me to Kat’s Cat Café, and a bunch of sponsor items as an apology. I need to go over my calendar for the month and place a supply order. Kat and I usually do this together, because we get a better discount that way.
“Hey, hey, my famous friend! I was starting to wonder if I was ever going to see you again.” Kat’s tone and expression tell me she’s hurt.
“I’m sorry. Things kind of exploded after the Halloween party in a way I didn’t expect, and I’ve been trying to juggle all the balls and put out fires.” We’ve messaged since the raccoon video came out. The more attention I get these days, the more I see the other, less friendly side of social media. Aside from the nasty comments about hockey players, several people questioned what happened to the baby raccoon. I assured my followers that he was returned to the outdoors and his family. I’m trying to stay focused on the positives.
Kat wrinkles her nose. “I saw some of those comments about playing with balls.”
I roll my eyes. “They don’t even make sense. Hockey has pucks, not balls.”
“Is this some kind of new strategy to build your business that I don’t know about?” Kat picks up Tux, who keeps bumping his head against her shin.
“What do you mean?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re taking care of that one player’s cat, and now you’re always with that Miles guy who works for the team.”
“I’m taking care of Parker’s great-grandfather’s cat, and Miles’s mom’s cat. It’s a happy coincidence that they’re affiliated with the same team.”
Kat bites her lip. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Just be careful, okay? You tend to focus on the positive, and that’s great, but remember where you started and what your goal is. Being internet famous because you love cats and named your business the Kitty Whisperer is a lot different from being internet famous for hanging out with hockey players.”
I purse my lips. “You sound like you’re drinking the comments Kool-Aid.”
She holds up a hand. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I just don’t want you to get hurt. You’re used to cat lovers following you, but this is a whole different breed of people. I just want you to stay true to your vision. Gaining new followers is amazing. You just want them to be your followers for the right reasons.”
