Page 30 of Reckless Harmony

“Completely serious,” she said. “The most we can do is change out the birthing bedding. Any more than that and Molly will leave her babies to die.”

“Christ, this is why I like dogs and not cats,” he snapped.

Feeling bad only that she was besmirching Molly’s good name, she shrugged. “It’s biology. I’m afraid you’re stuck with them for now.”

“For how long?” he asked.

“Not that long. Just eight weeks,” she said.

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and she had to fight hard not to start laughing. “Two months? I have to have this cat and her babies in my closet for two months?”

“Afraid so,” she said. “Unless you want to be a kitten murderer?”

He muttered another curse. “I am not set up to take care of a cat.”

She grinned at him. “It’s no problem. I have everything at my house that you’ll need to be a foster.”

“I am not a cat foster,” he snapped.

“You’re not not a cat foster,” she said.

His face suggested he wanted to murder her, and Rayna couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy.

She stood and gave him another megawatt smile. “Come back to my house, and we’ll get all the supplies you need for Molly and her babies.”

“Ms. Abrams, I cannot…”

She stared silently at him as his gaze dropped to Molly and her babies. He raked his hand through his hair. “I was supposed to go away this weekend.”

“Oh, I can check in on Molly and the babies while you’re gone,” she said.

“I am not leaving you alone in my house,” he said.

“Do you think I’m going to booby-trap it?” she asked before rolling her eyes.

“I don’t know how to look after kittens,” he said.

“You don’t have to. Molly will do all the work,” she said. “You just have to feed her, give her fresh water, and clean her litter box.”

His face turned green. “Her litter box?”

“Yes, she shits in a box,” she said cheerfully.

“Fuck,” he whispered before he stared at the kittens again, and his body slumped. “Fine. Let’s get the damn supplies.”

Acutely aware of Stark and his annoyed sighs behind her, Rayna stepped inside her house. Bea waited at the door, tail wagging happily and her nose sniffing the new scent in the house. She nosed past Rayna and made a soft, welcoming woof before bumping her face against Stark’s legs.

Stark bent and stroked her head and long, silky ears, studying her white muzzle. “Hello, old girl.”

“Her name is Bea,” Rayna said. “Follow me, and we’ll get the supplies.”

She led him to the back of the house, past the kitchen and the laundry room. Freddie was sitting in the doorway, and he gave Stark a suspicious look, his tail lashing back and forth.

Always unhappy about new people in the house, the cat turned and disappeared into the laundry room as Stark made a loud grunt and a muttered curse. She turned to see him bracing his hand against the wall, frowning at Bea, who, now that he had stopped, immediately plopped her ass onto his feet, panting happily and grinning up at him.

“Your dog just tried to trip me.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Rayna said. “She’s mostly blind.”

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