Page 38 of The Billionaire and the Runaway

“Yeah. Definitely. I’ll talk to you later,” I reply and hang up. I hold my phone out and look around. “Anyone else?” I look up at the sky. “Tori, you trying to freaking send me a message here or something?”

No sooner have the words left my mouth when I hear a sound from inside the barn. Meowing? I go back into the barn, searching for Pricilla.

“Pricilla?” I call out. I look in a few of her usual spots but don’t find her. I hear another meow and look under an old table where there’s a thick pile of hay that needs to be swept.

“Holy shit,” I mutter as I stare at five little kittens nursing on Pricilla.

“Well done, momma,” I say as I stroke her head. She purrs and meows again as if to introduce me to her children. I look around. They are probably safe here, but I’d prefer they come inside. I grab a small wooden crate and start packing it up with some old towels I find in a cupboard by the back door of the barn. When I feel it’s adequate, I look down at Pricilla and point to the crate. “We need to move the babies in here,” I state as if she’ll understand.

I start picking them up one by one. She gives me a loud meow at first but then realizes the crate is warmer and more comfortable. She curls up inside it and the kittens go back to nursing, except for one dark gray kitten. The runt? Shit. Just what I need.

I pick up the crate and toss a towel over the top of it. I lock the barn door as we leave, and I bring them into the office.

Peeling back the towel on top, I see the gray kitten is still struggling alongside its siblings. “You lot are terrible brothers and sisters,” I grumble as I start thinking of what to do. I have some formula we’ve used for other hand-raised animals recently. And this isn’t my first rodeo with kittens. I leave the kitten with the others while I quickly shower and get some things prepared.

I’m going to need Ariana’s help with this. I pick up the kitten and it curls against me.

“Tori, if this is some weird-ass message, I swear to God, just don’t fuck this up. Don’t let me fuck this up, OK?” I say toward the kitten.

It raises its head at me, which I take as a sign of some kind because this thing looks hours old and can’t see yet.

I wrap it in a towel that I’ve heated in the microwave. It snuggles down and I pat the syringe I got ready with the formula. Then, I go to my bedroom and get it ready. Just in case, I tell myself.

I have no idea what I’m doing, but me and this kitten are about to go see Ariana. This could be a great idea, or my worst idea ever. Fuck it. I’m about to use this little creature as my excuse to spend time with the woman that I’ve spent the last few weeks falling for. I can’t send her away. And I can’t resist her any longer. I just hope I don’t fuck it all up.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

Ariana

I’ve only managed to get two graphics finished. My mind keeps wandering back to Eric’s kiss. The way his hands felt on my body.

I fall back against the pillows on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing I was staring up at Eric. Too bad it’s so stormy out or I could at least be back in my bed with my vibrator.

I’ve seen Eric outside throughout the day and I heard him come inside a little while ago. I’d already eaten some dinner when I knew he was busy in the barn. I didn’t want to have to face him quite yet.

There’s a knock at the door and I practically groan with embarrassment. Why can’t he just leave me to wallow in my self-pity?

“Yes?” I answer.

“I have something. Can I come in?” he asks.

I want to be petulant and say something like, it’s your house, but I pull all the adultness I can muster, and reply, “Yes.”

He opens the door and I glance over before looking down at my laptop. Then, my head whips back toward him. He’s holding a small gray kitten that can’t be more than a day or two old.

“Oh my God!” I whisper-yell. I push the laptop onto the chest at the end of the bed and I jump onto the floor and walk over to Eric. The kitten is swaddled in a towel, only its little face peeks out from it. Eric reaches into his pocket and pulls out a syringe.

“I haven’t done this in a while. Pricilla had her kittens, and this runt can’t fight his siblings for milk. We’re going to have to bottle-feed him,” Eric explains. “He’s too small for a normal bottle yet, so we’ll need to use this.” He holds up the syringe to me. “You want to try.”

I swallow and shake my head. “No, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ll just watch.”

“Here, get on the bed,” Eric instructs.

I do as I’m told. Eric helps me sit against the headboard and he places the little buddled kitten in my arms like a baby. Then he brings the syringe up to its mouth and we both breathe a sigh of relief when it starts taking the milk.

“That’s right, buddy. Drink up,” Eric coos. I practically melt watching this giant, muscled man gently feed the kitten.

“Here, you try,” Eric says. “We’ll both need to get good at it. Kittens need to be fed a lot, just like a baby. So we’ll take turns.”

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