Page 36 of S.O.S. Billboard

“She might have a chip,” Billboard speculated. “She looks a little rough, and is skittish, but seems friendly enough other than that. She might be lost.”

O’Shea nodded. “That’s kind of what I was thinking. She just doesn’t appear to be your run-of-the-mill, stray. She looks like a special breed of something.”

“She could be.” Billboard would withhold judgement. He hadn’t gotten a really good look at the feline yet.

O’Shea seemed happy enough with that.

“Now let me go talk to the front desk clerk, then we can get moving.” She spun away before quickly turning back. “Andthank you, Billboard.” She sounded sincere. “I’m sorry I woke you up and screwed with your sleep. I meant it when I said I owed you one.”

He didn’t want to think about how he’d like to collect that debt. That was a slippery slope.

“No problem,” he coughed. “Now finish up.”

He watched her walk back into the lobby, the sway of her fine ass mesmerizing him until he noticed that the valet was regarding him watching, a grin on his pimply face.

Billboard grunted. “Mind your business.”

The young man put both hands in the air, then went back to some non-existent paperwork at his station.Smart kid.

Billboard approached his car again, not knowing what he’d be confronting when he got inside, but slowly easing his door open, he saw that the cat was already curled up on the front seat where O’Shea would sit, sound asleep. He slid in and regarded the gray, matted puss with a critical eye.

“You better behave, or you’ll find yourself in a shelter,” he warned.

The cat opened one golden orb and regarded him as if he were someone to be ignored.

Billboard chuckled. “Yup. Typical cat.”

That’s when the purring commenced, and Billboard sighed. Well, shit. He was going to own a cat.

O’Shea made short work of checking out, and quickly joined Billboard in the Bronco, easily scooping Zoe off the seat while getting in, to settle the warm bundle on her lap. The puss barely budged, kneading O’Shea’s lap once or twice before settling back to her nap, while O’Shea donned her seatbelt.

“Isn’t she sweet?” O’Shea cooed, patting the curly fur on the kitty’s head.

“Maybe,” Billboard gave a neutral reply. “You, uh, said she was a little wild in the hotel?”

“Well,yousaid she was just out of sorts because she was in a strange place, and I agree. Besides, it was ahotel,” she added.

Like the cat could tell one set of walls from another, but Billboard wasn’t going to argue. He had another question, instead. “What did you do with her make-shift litter box?”

O’Shea ducked her head, looking a little sheepish. “Well, I, um, first made sure it was clean, then I…kind of abandoned it for housekeeping. But I wrote them a note, apologizing. I just didn’t explain what it was used for because I didn’t want my brother getting in trouble or being charged extra. Then I left a hefty tip.” She chewed on her lip. “Do you think that’s alright?”

Billboard laughed. “I’m sure you covered all your bases. And I’m absolutely certain that housekeeping has seen far worse.” One of his mother’s jobs when he’d been young had been room cleaning, and he’d heard his share of horror stories.

But…speaking of his mother…

“My mother keeps spare cat supplies in the garage, and I’m certain she has an extra box and litter.”

“That’s good,” O’Shea smiled, patting the content kitty. They both seemed settled, and that made Billboard happy, except…

Shit.How the hell was he going to explain his new roommate to his mother without getting her all excited? Mom had been after him for several years to find a nice girl and settle down; that therightwoman would smooth out all his rough edges and make life worth living.Yeah.Evenshe’dknown that Peggy hadn’t been the one.

Now, with O’Shea, would Billboard’s astute matriarch recognize his interest?

Yeah.His mother would have him dead-to-rights. She’d always been able to see through him. In good times and in…

Billboard sighed.

There’d been plenty of bad for her to witness. She’d known he’d been severely depressed after he left the Marines; beforehe joined SOS. She’d lamented his condition. She’d badgered him to seek help. But he’d rebuffed all her overtures, which had frustrated her no end. His only joy, at that point in his life, had been the times when he’d headed south to an airfield where he’d been cleared to rent and fly one of their helicopters. The freedom of being in the air had allowed him to breathe, and recharge; to survive his empty days.

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