Page 69 of Hold the Pickle

“We do.” I shiver lightly with another couple-oriented detail now solidified between us.

Both of our comforters are on the bed, his Transformers one covering him, and my blue one on the open side.

Sliding beneath the sheet is wildly intimate. Even with the cats between us, and no clear path from my body to his, it’s unabashedly sexy to slip into bed beside him.

“I’ll take first shift if they wake up hungry,” he says.

“I’ll get up, too. It’ll go faster.”

“All right.”

His voice reverberates through me in the dark. It’s low and sexy, like an audiobook narrator.

Which makes me think of romance novels. ThenFirst Base to Love. Thencock.

I don’t think I’ll sleep, but then my eyes pop open in the dark.

Something feels different.

The kitchen bulb is on, leaving a soft glow over the room. I hold my breath, listening. No mewling or cries from the kittens.

I’ve rolled onto my side, facing away from Dalton and the cats. I turn slowly, ever so carefully, to look at them.

They’re not there. The space between us is empty.

I sit up. Where are they?

Dalton stirs. “Everything okay?”

“The cats are gone.”

He looks down. “They moved.”

I slide out from under the covers. “Let me look.”

But I needn’t have worried. The whole lot of them are in the cat bed.

Catzilla opens one eye, then closes it again.

I tiptoe back to Dalton. “Maybe we were too restless.”

“Maybe.”

I’ve already slid back under the covers when I realize I don’t need to. There are no kittens to keep from falling off.

I’ll have to blow up the air mattress. I’m about to leave again when Dalton says, “I checked the lease.”

I stay put. “Really?”

“Two pet maximum.”

“Uh oh.”

He sighs. “I guess we’ll have to keep quiet about the cats.”

“We will.”

“And hope they don’t need anything in here.”

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