Page 31 of Betting on the Brainiac

“Madison . . .”

“It’s fine,” she says. “The building is secure.”

She isn’t saying it in a martyr voice, like she’s waiting for me to sacrifice myself instead. She means it; she’s going to sleep here overnight.

I won’t sleep tonight if she does that because my conscience will keep me up, telling me what a jerk I am. “I’d rather take them to my place than make you stay here.”

“I already decided.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, like she won’t be discussing it anymore. “And now that I know there’s no ghost cat haunting this place, you should go back to work. I’ve distracted you enough.” She meets my eyes and adds a smile.

I want to argue with her, but I’ve been dismissed. Thoroughly dismissed.

Instead of saying anything, I send a voice text of my own. “Hey, Charlie. Will you ask Ruby if her brother has a sleeping bag I can borrow? Or a cot?”

“What are you doing?” Madison asks.

“Camping out here, I guess.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to. I got this.”

I lean forward slightly, stopping when the mama cat’s head turns my direction and she tenses. “You don’t have to either. I told you, I’ll bring her to my place and see how she and the babies do. If they’re fine, then we can make a better decision about what to do next.”

Madison opens her mouth like she’s going to protest, but I jump in. “This is exactly what you asked for the first time. Maybe take the win?”

Her mouth snaps shut. She narrows her eyes for a second then nods and picks up her phone. “Never mind about the sleeping bags.” She taps the screen and smiles at me. “Sent.”

I pick up my phone. “Never mind about the sleeping bags.” I tap it and smile. “Sent.”

“Thank you,” she adds. “How about you go back to the quiet time you’re paying me good money for? I’ll get everything together that you’ll need tonight.”

I look down at the kittens, who have settled into sleep, their tiny bellies rising and falling. The mama cat looks close to sleep herself. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Madison says. “Go have a productive day and forget I’m here.”

Yeah, right. Like that’s worked for even a single minute since the second I met her.

But I get to my feet and head up to my “desk” anyway. The only thing harder than forgetting Madison is forgetting the deadlines I have to meet, every single one of them even hairier than the furballs I’m leaving her with.

Chapter Thirteen

Madison

I am smitten bya kitten.

Four kittens.

And the mama cat, even, and the way she cares for them, both fierce and sweet.

I pull into Gatsby’s an hour earlier than usual, but Oliver has still beaten me.

It was so hard to send him home with those kittens yesterday. After we’d settled the mama and babies down, he’d relocated his desk to the main level to “help,” but that mostly seemed to mean “hold the kittens,” which is also my favorite way to help.

After our research, I’d ordered a grocery delivery that included a pet crate, food scale, and the cat food with the highest rating.

When it all showed up a couple hours later, the babies were nursing again, but when they finished, Oliver helped me weigh them. We googled some charts and decided they were probablyabout two days old, but we’d be able to tell better when we weighed them again today. We both recorded their weights on our phones so we can compare.

---