“How do you know it’s me?”
She rolled to her side, nuzzling her face on my thigh. “Only you would sneak into my room to poke and prod me.”
“I also spent some time looking at your tits.”
Her laugh was muffled by my leg. “You might be pervy, but at least you’re honest.” She rolled to her back, her eyes fluttering open. “Good morning, you.”
“Morning, pretty girl.”
“Why are you in my bedroom, sir?”
“I’m waking you up, wife. We have places to be.”
She glanced at the time and turned back to me with a furrow between her light brows. “The places better have coffee and donuts, or I’m not getting out of bed.”
“I can make that happen.” I peeled her sheet the rest of the way off her, which was a mistake. Her nightgown had ridden up to the tops of her thighs, revealing her bare little pussy. “Fuck. No underwear? Really?”
She tugged the scrap of material down and sat up, draping her legs over mine. “You sneak into my bedroom, you’re bound to see more than you expected.” Then she made sure to rub her calf against my dick, which was now standing at full attention. “Now you have to deal with the consequences of your actions.”
“I came in here with the intent to cheer you up,” I gruffed.
“You have. Look at me smiling.” She pressed her calf against me again. “I’m just returning the favor by cheering your dick up.”
I caught her leg and tossed it off me. It was a necessity. Otherwise, I’d have her flat on the mattress, spreading her legs instead. For a moment, I couldn’t remember why that was a bad idea.
But then I remembered.
Boundaries.
Temporary.
Convenience.
If I crossed the line now, when my emotions were already heightened, who knew how many others I’d cross?
I stood from Saoirse’s bed, adjusting the bulge behind my zipper.
“I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
Saoirse was miffed we took my car instead of the motorcycle, but when I pulled up in front of the animal shelter after taking her out for breakfast, she squealed with delight.
Her fingers dug into my bicep. “Are we getting a cat?”
I pried her hand off me and nipped at her fingertips. “If you find one you like, then yes, we’re getting a cat.”
We had the place to ourselves, thanks to a generous donation from Rossi Motors. Saoirse was soon buried in cats, and I questioned my choice of bringing her here.
Did I want to live with five cats if she couldn’t part from any of them?
Hell no.
Would I be able to say no?
Absolutely not.
Luckily, Saoirse had more sense than me. She homed in on the one cat who decided I made for a good climbing post and clawed its way up my leg until I had no choice but to hold it in my arms.
Orange. Scruffy. Missing half an ear. The thing was a mess.
Saoirse gasped. “Oh my god. He’s so cute.” She scratched beneath its chin, and the thing’s tail swished, hitting me in the face. “You’re a beautiful boy, aren’t you? You are. And you like Luca, don’t you? I do too. You have good taste, buddy.”
I had to clear the thickness from my throat. How did hearing her tell a fucking cat that she liked me make me feel like my collar was three sizes too small?
“How do you know it’s a boy?” I asked.
“Orange cats are almost always male,” she said.
“You know a lot about cats?”
She stroked the orange fur, a smile curling her lips. “I’ve wanted one forever. I used to check out books from the library about taking care of them when I was little. Back then, I still thought my mother’s mind could be changed. My dad tried to convince me the barn cats on the ranch were my pets, but they barely wanted anything to do with humans. They definitely wouldn’t have let me put them in a dress.”
I turned to the side, taking the cat out of her reach. “He’s not wearing a dress.”
The woman who ran the shelter came toward us. “I see you’ve met Clementine. Isn’t she sweet?”
“She? I thought orange cats were always boys,” Saoirse said.
“Eighty percent of the time, they are,” the woman replied. “Clem is an exception to the rule. She really does have a lovely temperament, but no one’s taken her home yet due to her slightly rough appearance.”
I cleared my throat again, this time in indignation. Whoever hadn’t chosen this cat was clearly an idiot. “There isn’t anything wrong with her.”
Saoirse cuddled in next to us, kissing the top of Clem’s head. “She’s a princess and obviously has great taste.”
The women agreed, shooting me a wink, and said she’d give us time to play with Clementine. The three of us ended up sitting on the floor of a private room, getting to know each other.
Clem was just as affectionate with Saoirse, which was important. This was her cat, after all.
In the back of my mind, I knew I was digging myself into a hole it would fucking suck to climb out of. There wasn’t a single doubt in my mind I was going to fall in love with this creature and break my own heart when I had to say goodbye to her at the end of my and Saoirse’s arrangement. At the same time, I couldn’t say no to this.
Not when I pictured Saoirse as a little girl with stacks of cat books, promising to take care of the cat all by herself and being shot down time and time again.
She was getting her damn cat.
Fuck my heart. It would recover.
The smile on Saoirse’s face made whatever I had in store worth it.
I knew that because when I looked at her and our previously unwanted cat, I was calm. My urge to destroy and maim had quieted. The future might be painful. I might regret these decisions down the line. But for now, everything was right.
My parents came for lunch on Sunday. Saoirse and my mother cooked together. Clementine sat in my father’s lap while we watched the game in the den.
He looked good. Miles better than he had a few months ago. But I’d never forget he wasn’t invincible. My big, strong, capable father had nearly been brought down by his own body.
The four of us sat down to eat together while Clem checked out her new climbing tower.
My mother shook her head. “A cat. I never pictured you having a cat, Luc.”
Dad wiped his pants off. “You’ll have to invest in lint rollers by the case.”
Saoirse lit up as she told them how Clementine had chosen me. “She climbed him like a tree. And when the woman in charge of the shelter implied there was something wrong with Clem, you should have seen Luca. It was like she was talking about his child.”
My dad grunted. “I’d hardly call a missing ear something wrong. Who are these people who said that?”
My mother laughed. “Do you see where he gets it from?”
Saoirse’s cheeks were rosy when she grinned at me. “I do. Who knew Luca had such a mushy heart?”
“I did,” Mom declared. “You can’t be a beautiful artist without feeling things deeply. When he was a little boy, he once came to me with tears in his eyes. When I asked him why he was upset, he said he wasn’t sad. He told me he’d been thinking about me, Clara, and Dad, and his heart got so big it felt like his chest was going to burst. As he got older, he disguised that side of him behind his cool-guy front, but I know what lies beneath.”