Page 66 of Arse Over Irish Teacup
“The cat that’s been missing for weeks that Roan’s been looking for just came up to you?”
“Yeah, isn’t that funny? You should see him. He’s so handsome with his blue eyes and so affectionate.”
“Are we still talking about the cat?” Beth was getting more action in Ireland than she’d seen in a year at home. And she had described some of the country she’d seen on the drive and couldn’t stop saying how beautiful it was. That was a far cry from the miserable, lonely, and depressed Beth she had spoken with a few days ago. Lauren whipped out her deck of tarot cards and shuffled then pulled the first card then the second, she didn’t bother flipping the other. Biting her lip, she thought for a moment. She had probably meddled enough. “You sound tired. You don’t have to decide tonight if you want to cancel your flight. Sleep on it.”
“You think I should stay, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do. But not just because of the guys.”
“There are no guys. Just Roan. I didn’t even realize he thought of me like that until tonight.”
Sigh … Klutzy, Klutzy, Klutzy … They could address her inability to read men later. “You said yourself the weather has changed. You could stay another few days and get out there and maybe enjoy yourself. You flew all the way out there, and you may never go again. Do you really want to come home after a couple of lousy weeks when you had the opportunity,” not to mention the invitations, “to maybe experience something great?” Lauren paused before bringing out the big guns. Sure, Lauren could lie about Beth’s flight being cancelled, but that would only keep her there for another day or two before she caught on. No, she had interfered enough. But there was more than one way to crack an egg. Gram could make Beth stay there and give her trip another chance. “Besides, Gram wanted this for you. Don’t you think you owe it to yourself to give it one more shot?”
Mr. Jameson rubbed his soft, fuzzy cheek to Beth’s, purring loud as a large diesel truck while she stared at the TV screen where a rerun ofMurder, She Wroteplayed. Angela Lansbury was sitting at her typewriter in her reading glasses writing her latest novel.
That really was a good show. Beth had forgotten how much she liked it.
What could a few more days hurt? Two days ago, she would have said that crucifixionwould be less painful than staying another day in Ireland. But the countryside she’d seen today was beautiful.
Beth would never admit, not out loud anyway, that Aidan’s note surprised her. Nearly everything about him that day had surprised her. There was even a moment when she had thought he might be flirting with her. But, looking back on it now, he was likely only being nice.
And Roan’s invitation to stay had been so generous. And that kiss …
If the weather turned soggy again, at the very worst she would stay in a cozy, warm cottage, cuddling with a cat and watching TV. There were worse ways to spend your vacation.
That’s what Roan would call couch-melting relaxation.
“Would you cancel my flight?”
Did Lauren know or did Lauren know? High five! She smiled and lied through her teeth, “Of course I can!” She clicked her mouse a few times and punched on a few keys just for effect. “Done!”
ChapterTwenty-Six
The followingday Beth woke up to Mr. Jameson laying on her chest, pushing her eyelids open. The sun was up, he was up, she should be up. Beth blinked a few times. As the white fluffy face came into focus she scratched his cheeks and throat as he purred and purred. If she was going to stay a while longer they would need to figure out another method of getting her up in the morning. After a morning snuggle, she threw over the covers and got out of bed with Mr. Jameson leading the way.
Beth yawned and stretched like the cat at her feet then looked at the clock on the wall. Mr. Jameson stretched from his front toes to the tip of his tail.
She reached the bathroom then turned on the shower and smiled when the steam rose.
Mr. Jameson followed her and sat on the edge of the sink, then as Beth stepped under the spray he howled. And cried. And howled.
Apparently, Mr. Jameson didn’t like her being under that shower spray. Or he was hungry.
Either way His Royal Highness would have to wait.
Once in the kitchen, the regal Mr. Jameson situated himself in front of the cat-themed placemat on the floor and waited while Beth prepared a saucer and cat food. Having smelled his food Mr. Jameson grew impatient and meowed loudly, and with many octaves, as he stood on his two back feet, begging. Before she placed the plate onto the floor, he had his face in it.
Beth snickered. He wasn’t so dignified now, was he?
“I need to go to the store and get you more food.” She had found two cans of his food, his empty litter box and a bag of cat litter but those wouldn’t last. She opened the refrigerator and brought out the last two eggs from Roan. “I need eggs, and juice and—I’m talking to a cat.” Mr. Jameson didn’t seem to mind. Then again, he was deaf. Beth shrugged her shoulders and continued telling him her grocery list while she scrambled her eggs and was so relaxed, she didn’t notice that the thought of going out into the big bad world didn’t seem so scary today. What a difference a day makes.
* * *
With her shopping list in hand, Beth passed through the doors of the grocery store, pulled a cart out of the line and headed for the refrigerated section. After walking up and down the aisle she was ready to throw her hands up. How hard could it be to find eggs? Not seeing them anywhere she gave up and moved on to the pet section. She rounded a corner, avoiding a tall display of canned tomatoes and yelped when she crashed her cart into another.
“Spinner! I should have known,” Aidan teased, shaking his head.
“Are you following me? I’ve been to this grocery store twice and both times here you are.”
