Page 11 of Catnapped

“Maybe you haven’t tried the right person.” I focus on her lips, drawn inexorably toward them. The sweetness of a kiss from her–I can’t even imagine it.

Someone clears their throat. “Mr. Blair? I believe you were looking for me?”

May blinks and steps back.

I’m not a naturally violent man, but if I were, I’d wring the butler’s neck for interrupting. “Yes, I have some questions.”

May looks around. “Mousey’s gone. I should follow her.” She steps away, but I take her wrist.

“We stick together.”

She stops. “We do?” An adorable confusion flitters across her expression.

“From now on we do.” I nod and give her wrist a squeeze before letting go. Turning back to the butler, I say, “I’ll catch up with you next. Don’t go far.” With that, I take May’s hand. “Lead on.” Her skin is warm against mine, and she doesn’t pull away.

“Mr. Blair, I’m a busy man. I can’t dawdle while–”

I turn back to him. He’s making a sad effort to look down his nose at me despite the fact I’m almost a foot taller than he is. “I said stay put. I’ll be back shortly.”

At my tone, he snaps his mouth shut, though his eyes flash with indignation. He simply folds his hands behind his back like a soldier taking up an ‘at ease’ stance.

“Let’s go.”

May’s gaze bounces back and forth from the snooty butler to me, but she seems to like the chance of escape, so she moves toward the main hallway where Mousey disappeared.

Once we’re out of earshot, she says, “I wish I could be like that.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“You know. Like gruff and scary.”

Oh, shit. My heart sinks and I pull her to a stop. “I scared you?”

Her brows knit together. “What?”

“You just said I was scary.”

“Oh, no. Not to me.” She smiles, and an invisible weight lifts from my chest. “You’re not scary at all. You’re like a Maine Coon. You have resting grumpy face, but really you’re a total sweetheart inside. Fiercely loyal to the ones you love. You’ll defend your family, fight fang and claw to keep them safe.”

“A Maine Coon?” My lips twitch into a smile.

She nods decisively. “And they’re big. Like, the biggest.” Her cheeks go a little pink. “Not that I think you’re–” She turns her head quickly. “Mousey’s in there. She wants to show us a window. Come on.”

She pulls me into a room, this one done in shades of purple with paintings of some sort of sad, droopy flower decorating thewalls over and over again. “Mrs. Farrol has an obsession with repetition.”

I follow May to a window where Mousey sits licking her paw. She looks up at May.

May starts, then looks around the room again. “Are you serious?”

Mousey goes back to licking her paw.

“Oh my God, she’s serious.” May rubs her forehead.

“What?” I examine the window. “Something to do with this?” I can tell it’s a cantilever mechanism along the top of the bottom frame. Easy to open from the inside, but almost impossible from the outside. No one could’ve come through here without help. I eye Mousey.Help or a cat who can open the window and possibly leave it open on accident.

“I think I might be sick.” May leans against me.

Concern rushes through me like a blaring alarm bell. “What is it?” I steady her. “Are you okay?”

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