Page 4 of Pretty Kitten

Her reason wasn’t exactly glamorous. She’d worked as a barista during her four years away at college; her family had always been very generous with their wallets, but Clari hated asking for money. It had helped pay for anything extracurricular, like her impressive collection of shoes currently collecting dust in her cupboard. Lakesides wasn’t exactly the sort of place where one wore Louboutin.

In all honesty, she wasn’t one hundred percent sure why she’d come back to her home town. Or rather, she’d known why she’d come back – but it had been meant to be a quick visit. The reason why she stayed was a mystery, though. She’d left as quickly as she could, and she’d loved it in the city, but here she was. She’d told herself it was temporary at first – a break until she knew where she wanted to land for good, but that became more of a lie every day. She felt comfortable here.

And it might have something to do with the pride of young feline shifters who made it feel like a fun version of home.

“Where’s everyone?”

“Water park. The lucky buggers managed to rope Tracy, Coveney, and Christine into taking them, so Ace and Rye said they could go.”

Ian sounded grumpy, and she guessed it was because he’d been left behind; unlike their domestic counterparts, most big cats loved water, and, well, anyone living in Lakesides in the summer could appreciate the benefits of an afternoon playing in a pool.

“Well, more Bakewell tart for you, then.”

That seemed to cheer him up; he got up, looked in the box she carried, and gave her a goofy smile as he piled three pieces in one of his hands.

“You’re a beautiful creature, Clarissa,” he told her, pointing right to her face, before stuffing a tart in his mouth.

Men and their stomachs.

She was rolling her eyes when she caught something at the corner of her eye, and stiffened.

Daunte had put a shirt back on, although his hair was still wet and waving a little, like Superman’s. He stood close to the door and glared like it was going out of fashion.

Any other day, she would just have pretended to ignore him, or glared right back, but something Ace had said made her want to push him. Cats circling each other, waiting to pounce? That seemed accurate enough. And she had every intention of being the one on top.

“Coffee?”

Chapter 4

Hell of a Day

She was talking to him. Why was she talking to him? It wasn’t how their dynamic worked.

Shit, he loved her voice. “Coffee,” that’s all she’d said, and he was hard. She was looking directly at him, her emerald green eyes blazing defiantly. She knew what she’d done. She knew she’d broken the status quo.

Why? Why today? As though Daunte didn’t have enough on his mind already. Clarissa Thompson didn’t have to do anything to mess with his brain; the fact that she existed already achieved that. He thought of her every day since he’d first seen her, inhaled her scent, heard that damn voice.

And now, she asked him if he wanted coffee. Made by her. He grunted something that he hoped resembled a yes, while Ian attempted to hide his shit-eating grin behind a newspaper. Daunte flipped him off as soon as Clari turned her back.

“Done with your truck?”

Again. She was doing it again. The talking thing.

“Yep. All spotless.”

“One might wonder why you cleaned it again; didn’t you get it done just last week?”

Daunte shot Ian a cautioning look; he could understand why the man would tease him about his awkwardness in front of Clari - he could have a look in the mirror and see just how fucking laughable he was. If it had been another guy, he would have been just as ready to take the piss - but this was different. The problem with his truck was a serious issue that concerned the pride’s safety, and he hadn’t even had the chance to speak to Rye about it.

Ian immediately dropped it, catching on to the difference in his expression; Daunte didn’t take most things too seriously. The one and only notable exception was pride business.

There wasn’t anything too obvious about him being overzealous with his truck, but the problem was that they were cats - by nature, they wanted to know every single little detail. If the wrong person heard that, and caught his reluctance when he replied, he was screwed.

Ace and Rye walked in, and immediately the atmosphere of the room changed; everyone involuntarily straightened up a little. Their Alphas didn’t demand that sort of deference, but they naturally commanded it.

The couple had spent the afternoon with their midwife; they’d religiously attended training meetings that were supposed to somehow help when his sister was going to push the balloon she was carrying around out of her teeny, tiny body. Daunte winced every time he thought about it. Now that she was only a few days away from giving birth, he felt positively sick. He’d never do that to a woman.

“How’s everything?” he asked Ace. She opened her mouth, but he held his hands up. “That was mostly rhetorical. You’re just meant to say, you’re good.”

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