Page 20 of Ulune's Daughter

And the company? The company is unexpectedly good. Rhodes doesn’t apologize for anything when he picks me up in a Ford Fiesta that screams hand-me-down-from-mom car. Which ups my respect for him a notch. He keeps me laughing with stories about Bevvy’s swim team, particularly Yan’s worst moments. When my buzz loosens me up enough, I pull him onto the dance floor and he makes a willing partner as we shuffle and grind to “Dancing Queen” and “Everybody Wants to Rule the World.”

My respect for him ups another notch when he drops me off at my front gate with a warm but platonic hug and kiss on the cheek. It’s not a question of interest; the hard-on he got while we were dancing was ample evidence of that. He doesn’t apologize for his erection, either.

He waits by his car as I walk down the path. I wave before I turn the corner; he waves back.

The cat who has adopted me is sitting at the bottom of my porch steps, his fluffy tail wrapped around his paws, the tip flicking with annoyance.

I rush to him. “Oh, precious boy. Are you hungry?”

He purrs when I pick him up and take him inside. I’m going to have to get a cat door. I let him out this morning before I went to the museum; he’s been without food and water all day. Maybe he has a roster of people he visits, but by the way he meows as I walk toward the fridge, I don’t think so.

I fix him a plate of chicken that I’d poached intending to make curried chicken salad. When I put it down on the floor with a bowl of water, the cat looks so offended that I immediately try to make amends.

“You want to be fed, don’t you? Of course you do, proud boy.” I follow him over to the leather wing chair that seems to be his favorite and sit cross-legged on the floor, feeding him pieces of chicken, and snacking on a few myself, while I tell him all about the exhibit. He listens with more attention than Rhodes did.

I lean my head on the arm of the couch. “Why are cats better than guys?”

He yawns.

“I know. Eternal cat lady question. Rhodes is a good guy. Aniceguy. There’s a spark, but he doesn’t make me crazy.” I prop my chin on the back of one hand and stroke the cat between his ears with the other. “My friend Teddy’s crazy for her guys. She’s killed for them. Turned Time inside-out for them. My friend Rachel’s so nuts over her guy she’s been waiting for him for almost a decade. I want to feel like that.”

The cat purrs and puts a paw on my face, squashing my nose.

“Thank you,” I tell him, kissing his toe pads. They’re spotted pink and black. Adorable. “I know it’s too much to ask. And I’ve got too much going on to get distracted by a hot guy. I’ll keep it casual. You’re my one, true love anyway, aren’t you, beautiful boy? You need a name, gorgeous. How about Whitey?”

The cat rolls over to show me his tummy, which I obligingly scratch.

“Ready for some dessert, Whitey? I think I have some deli turkey for you and a cheesecake pot for me.”

I pull myself up off the floor and amble into the kitchen, dropping the empty plate in the sink. Jane, Mother bless her, left me a stack of my favorite key-lime cheesecake pots in the back of the fridge. I take one and grab a packet of turkey and a spoon. I’m juggling them when my phone rings.

“Damn.”

I scoot into the living room and put everything down in front of Whitey before pulling out my phone.

I grin when I see the name. “Danny, my favorite keyboard ninja, how are you?”

“Fairly awesome, Kells. You checked your email?”

“Not for a couple of hours. I had a date.”

“What is this hideous social ritual you speak of?” he asks, his voice deadpan.

I snigger. Although Danny is stereotypically reclusive, he has a huge fan following on Twitcher and all he has to do to get a date is say he has a night free. Gamers of both genders have been known to throw their underwear at him on livestreams.

“What’s it say?” I ask, rolling up some deli ham and offering it to Whitey, who chomps it down like he didn’t just eat most of two chicken breasts, and then licks my fingers. Such a sweet boy.

“I’ve got a solid lead on that chalice.”

“How solid?”

“Solid enough that I canceled my Twitcher casts for the rest of the week.”

I whistle. “Pretty solid.”

“Should I get the band back together?”

I start to agree and then look at Whitey. Who will feed my precious boy if I go chasing after Sulis Minerva’s chalice?

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