Page 40 of End Game

Birdsong, no matter how beautiful and inspiring, could not erase the aftershock of yesterday’s soul-crushing meeting at Hemingway’s.

She propped fluffy-sock-covered feet on the metal coffee table and set her cushioned glider into motion. Even now, hours later, the thought of her conversation with Jillian and her aunties still made her stomach cramp and her heart constrict. The confusion and pain she’d felt yesterday remained sharp and steady.

As if sensing her mistress’s inner turmoil, Crispy stood on her rear paws, bracing her front ones on Kayla’s chest, and snuffled her cheek. The cat’s long, white whiskers tickled her nose and lips.

Kayla set her coffee on a glass top table near the glider to avoid drinking cat hair before smoothing her hand down the feline’s silky back. At her touch, Crispy’s spine arched and her motor rumbled to life. She rubbed the side of her soft face against Kayla’s.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, trying to convince herself as well as her furry protector. “I’ll get through this letdown the same way I have all the others.”

Crispy’s nose twitched against hers, as if she detected the fishy scent of deceit.

The doorbell rang, interrupting their feline therapy session. Crispy’s head snapped in the direction of the front door, then to Kayla, as if asking, “Are you going to get that?”

“No, I’m not.” She rubbed the cat’s back again. This time, raking away a few white, black, and orange hairs. “I’m not in the mood to speak to anyone. This is the first Saturday I’ve taken off in two months, and I have no intention of interrupting my pity party.”

Crispy whipped her tail back and forth like a kid stomping their feet when denied their favorite treat.

“You don’t care who it is. You only want to amuse yourself against their leg.”

The doorbell rang again.

Glowing yellow-green eyes stared at her.

Despite her determination to ignore the outside world today, Kayla’s curiosity got the better of her.

“Fine.” She dug her phone out of her robe’s pocket and scrolled through several screens until she found her doorbell app. She tapped to open it and frowned.

No one was at her front door.

She searched the porch for packages, but found none.

Crispy jumped on her stomach, and Kayla let out an “oomph” at the unexpected move. The cat stood on her hind legs again. This time, facing away, her front paws steady on Kayla’s upraised knees.

“Looking for me?” a familiar masculine voice said.

Kayla lowered her phone and looked right into Crispy’s butthole. The calico’s tail slashed left and right, as she assessed the potential threat. Unlike most cats who run and hide when faced with strangers, Crispy went on guard. As if she’d been a dog in another incarnation.

Stretching her neck to see past the feline bum, Kayla found the absolute last person she’d wanted to see today. Especially this morning.

Out of character, she’d gone to bed without taking off her makeup, not caring about clogged pores and morning raccoon eyes. She couldn’t even recall if she’d brushed her teeth. Certainly hadn’t yet this morning.

Freaking great.

“What do you want, Ash?”

“To come in. If your guard cat will let me.”

“You realize it’s barely seven on a Saturday morning, right?”

“What better time to have your undivided attention?”

If she wasn’t so heart-weary this morning, she would find his determination to be in her company provocative and would have taken great pleasure in tweaking his fragile ego. However, at the moment, she simply wanted to be alone. “I’m not up for company right now.”

“We need to talk.”

Lowering her feet, she placed Crispy on the floor and stood. “No, we really don’t.” She met his gaze. “Unless you have new information on Victoria’s murder?”

“I have something else I need to discuss with you.”

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