Page 48 of Pack Scratch Fever
Some of the adult cats have returned, too feral to be adopted, but Piper sent Avery back with a list of natural cat repellents for my garden that won’t hurt the creatures.
The kittens haven’t returned; apparently, the rescue found fosters for them.
Piper took a ton of stress off my plate, and I repaid her by insulting her profession.
“Fuck,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair and tugging at the strands.
I owe her a huge apology.
“She’s the one,” Maddox continues. “And no, I’m not getting in over my head, before you say it. Avery agrees with me. She’s special.”
The migraine that I had earlier returns.
“Go without me,” I murmur.
“Are you sure?”
No, I’m not sure. I want to be a part of this, too.
I want her to like me.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Disappointment creates a heavy weight in my chest.
It’s onlya few hours later when I finally allow myself to take a quick break before my next call.
I venture outside, making eye contact with a black cat that lies contentedly on top of our fence, perched on its stomach.
My herbs remain healthy and untouched, the planter boxes no worse for wear. Placing the citrus peels around them helped tremendously.
I was an asshole to Piper, and she still offered her help to me.
This gesture won’t make up for what I’ve done, but hopefully, it’s a start.
After I gather what I need and prepare my version of an olive branch, I make the quick trip to the rescue, anticipation building in my stomach.
Even before I step into the building, I scent her and bite back a groan.
Smelling her on Avery was agonizing enough, but I forgot how overwhelming it is to be in her proximity.
She’s sitting at the front desk, her chestnut hair pulled into a tight, high bun, with a few strands falling into her face. Her eyes are glued to the screen, and she purses her lips as she types furiously on the keyboard.
Beautiful.
She’s beautiful. The thought awakens something primal in me, and my inner Alpha nods in agreement.
Scent match scent match
Take her take her
On the front ledge of the counter is the tabby cat from before, who lets out a pleased chirp when I enter. He hops off the ledgegracefully and comes to rub against my legs and roll onto the floor, showing off his belly.
Piper’s eyes snap to mine, and she rolls back in her desk chair, staring at me.
“Hi?” she says, curious and confused. “What are you doing here?”
Scent match!
