Page 138 of Reckless Harmony

He was fucking delighted to have all three properties finally, and he couldn’t care less what Rayna Abrams did with the rest of her life.

Oh yeah? Then why did you feel so guilty when you saw Rayna loading up her crappy SUV with boxes not even an hour ago?

He could feel a muscle ticking in his jaw. He should never have gone into the fucking den. Should never have looked out the goddamn window. Seeing Rayna carrying box after box to her SUV made him feel sick to his stomach, but he hadn’t been able to look away. She was obviously packing up her things, and it didn’t matter how many times he told himself he didn’t feel bad, the nausea in his stomach told a different story.

He’d watched her from behind the blinds like a damn stalker until she’d finished loading the boxes, climbed into her SUV, and drove away. His stomach clenched at the memory of how sad and defeated she’d looked.

Of course she looks sad. You took her fucking home from her, asshole.

He hadn’t. She came to him with the offer.

And you fucking lowballed her.

No, he didn’t. He’d given her a very generous offer, more than she would have gotten from anyone else.

Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.

Christ, if he clenched his jaw any harder, his goddamn teeth would crack.

He petted Molly repeatedly until some of the tension left his body. When his phone rang, he stared at the unfamiliar number and considered not answering it before reaching for it.

“Stark speaking.”

“Hello, Mr. Stark. My name is Gianna. I’m the cat foster coordinator for Little Whiskers.”

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“As you know, the rescue is closing down, and we’re reaching out to each foster to make arrangements to have their foster animal transferred out of their care.”

He sat up straight, his spine rigid and a vein pulsing to life in his forehead. “What? The rescue is closing?”

“Yes,” she said. “There was an email from Rayna sent to the fosters on Thursday night. Did you not receive it?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” he said. He’d gotten the email. He’d deleted it without opening it as soon as he’d seen Rayna’s name.

“Oh shoot,” Gianna said. “I assumed you’d seen the email. I apologize for sharing the news so abruptly.”

“Why is the rescue closing?” He stood and paced his bedroom.

“Unfortunately, I don’t know the details of why it’s closing,” Gianna said. “We have three rescues who are taking over the care of the Little Whiskers foster animals. Our database says you currently have one cat named Molly and her three kittens. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Perfect. Would you be willing to transport them to their new foster, or do I need to arrange for a volunteer driver?”

“New foster?” he asked. “A new foster for Molly?”

“Yes,” she said patiently. “Another rescue will take Molly and her babies in.”

“No,” he said. “That is not fucking happening.”

The silence on the other end was deafening, and he took a deep breath. “I apologize.”

“Right,” she said, her tone now on the frosty side. “We are offering fosters the chance to adopt their foster animals free of charge. Am I to assume you would like to adopt Molly?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll adopt her.”

“Perfect. I’ll have an adoption contract sent to you in the next forty-eight hours. Please sign and return the document to us via email as soon as possible. Now, are you willing to keep the babies with Molly until they’re weaned? Once they’re weaned, we’ll send them to a different rescue. If you want them moved immediately, we’ll need to send Molly to the other rescue temporarily until her babies are weaned, and then you can take her back.”

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