Page 41 of S.O.S. Billboard

And rather cheekily at that. But Billboard didn’t apprise the ladies of that fact.

Del had made it abundantly clear that he was delighted Billboard would spend time with O’Shea. His bossandhis team obviously hadn’t missed his interest where she was concerned, and Del had almost crowed, finding out O’Shea had picked up a cat and the pair were now staying with him.

“I also made a call to Tucker Devons,” he told them, tuning out the remainder of the razzing he’d received from Del that still rattled in his brain. “He’s Daire and Brent’s older brother.”

O’Shea nodded, her head tipped, encouraging him to continue.

“His dog, Jeb, sees a vet who Tuck raves about, so I asked if he could get us an emergency appointment. He was able to procure one for eleven o’clock today.”

“That’s great,” O’Shea gushed. “You’re really good at this whole cat thing. But…” She glanced at Celia, who was humming at the stove. “Doesn’t your mother have a vet for her babies?”

Celia indicated with her spatula that Billboard should answer.

“Those evil furballs?” Billboard scoffed. “Are you kidding? After almost taking off one local vet’s hand when the pair wereno bigger than peanuts, Mom was at a loss after the man told her they’d have to be sedated in the future if she wanted to continue with them. She fussed over it for weeks, then finally contacted a friend of hers from college who she knew had become a vet. The woman lives in Vermont, but she said she’d have a look at them.

“For some reason, the dastardly duo liked her and accepted her attention. Now Mom bundles the pair up and drives them north for a weekend once a year, where her friend is able to give them a look-over as well as their mandatory shots. So, the answer to your question is no. There’s nobody local that mom uses.”

“In a nutshell,” Celia agreed, plating up his eggs before turning to butter his toast.

“I’m thrilled then, that you found a solution. I’d give you a big fat kiss if your mother wasn’t watching,” O’Shea teased.

“Don’t let me stop you,” his mom declared cheekily. “My cranky boy needs all the kisses he can get.”

“Mom…” Billboard warned. He hoped she wasn’t going to let fly the reasons she was aware of behind his perpetual irritability. He wasn’t ready to let O’Shea know aboutanyof his sordid past, yet.

Unless his mother had already told O’Shea things…

“Mom, you didn’t—?"

“Phht,” Celia interrupted, swinging the butter knife around and pointing at him in the way that she’d been doing since he was small. “I haven’t, and willnot, spill anybody’s beans. I’m not a foolish old woman. Not yet at least. As far as I’m concerned, the two of you will either be honest with each other and build something that lasts, or you’ll keep mum, and much to both of your detriment’s, burn out fast.” She waved her tool around again. “And that’s all I’m saying on the subject.”

Billboard looked at O’Shea, who seemed half amused, half appalled.

Yup.That was Celia Seingold. A real pistol.

****

After enjoying the meal, with his mother and O’Shea watching him eat, Billboard had helped clean up. Then he and his house guest had enjoyed quick but solo showers—his fault, he knew—before reconvening in his living room to head toward the local super-pet store for supplies.

And now…

Watching O’Shea was like seeing a kid in a candy store.

“How about one of these?” she asked giddily, picking up a backpack with a transparent plastic window that was designed to let a cat ride in style while surveying their surroundings.

Billboard was amused.

“Umm, I wouldn’t dare try that on either Pumpkin or Squash, but it’s your call. Maybe Zoe will be more amenable to it than they would.”

O’Shea screwed up her mouth. “Mmm. Maybe we won’t risk it. I think a regular cat carrier might be better. But one with lots of visibility.” She turned to briskly walk toward another aisle.

Billboard pushed the cart after her with a snort. The thing was already filled with a giant cat tower they’d have to build, two scratching posts, a case of the cat food his mother had recommended, and every fluffy, furry, or feathered toy that had struck O’Shea’s eye since they’d walked in.

He knew if they didn’t have an appointment in less than an hour, he’d be hard pressed to pull her out of the store, but he’d reminded her of it a few minutes earlier, and she’d promised that the carrier was the last item on her list.

Right.

Billboard was no fool. They’d be back here for a second haul before the week was out.

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