Page 22 of A Christmas Spark
“Mabel found some scraggly little thing in her backyard,” George explained, pushing open the front door of the office cautiously, just in case the kitten had managed to get down on itsown and was now loose in the office. “Now it’s in my office tree, somehow. No idea how it got from her toy shop to here.”
“The office Christmas tree?” Jackson chuckled, shaking his head. “Now this I’ve got to see.”
“I don’t need any help,” George grumbled, but he didn’t protest when Jackson followed him into the office. The kitten was still clinging to the very top of the Christmas tree for dear life, letting out intermittent, demanding yowls of protest as it hung on.
“It got itself up there, and now it has the gall to insist I get it down,” George muttered, setting up the stepladder. “Nothing but a bother,” he added, although the bite in his voice truthfully didn’t sound all that sincere.
Jackson leaned against the doorframe, watching amusedly as George finished positioning the stepladder. “Well, well,” he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest and one foot over the other, tapping his boot idly against the floor. “Look at you, helping Mabel out instead of pranking her. I can think of all kinds of mischief you could get up to with her kitten here. But instead you’re just being nice. The times, they are a changin’.”
George narrowed his eyes at Jackson, turning slightly to shoot him a glare. “I’ve been plenty nice to her. Brought her casseroles when her wrist was all messed up, didn’t I? Anyway, I’m not the one who loves playing pranks. That’s all her. I just respond to what she puts out there, that’s all. Not about to take it lying down. She’s always the one starting it though.”
“Is she, now?” Jackson raised an eyebrow.
George ignored that, testing the ladder’s stability. “This doesn’t mean anything,” he grumbled, as he started to climb, tugging on his work gloves. “I just don’t want this scraggly little beast terrorizing my farm. Who knows what kind of nonsense it might get up to if I didn’t get it out of here?”
The kitten let out another yowl, as if in agreement, and the top of the tree swayed precariously, sending another shower of pine needles to the floor.
“Sure, George,” Jackson said bemusedly, still watching from his vantage point in the doorway. “Whatever you say.”
George ignored him, focusing instead on the task of getting the sharp-clawed little creature down without injury—to it or to him. He climbed the stepladder all the way up carefully, until he was within reach of the trembling kitten. It was looking at him with those same owlish green eyes, tiny claws digging into the branches.
“Come here, you little troublemaker,” George murmured, voice surprisingly gentle. It wouldn’t do any good to scare the little thing off before he managed to get it down, he told himself. He reached out slowly, trying not to scare it.
The kitten hissed, recoiling as far as it could in the thin branches.
“Careful not to startle it,” Jackson called from below, and George gritted his teeth.
“I got it. Quit backseat driving the kitten rescue,” he growled, reaching out once again, although if he were being entirely honest with himself, he didn’t really know what he was doing. He wasn’t a cat person. There’d been a few outdoor cats on the tree farm over the years, mousers who kept rodents away from the office and outbuildings, but he’d never made pets out of any of them. He preferred dogs, all things considered, although he hadn’t had a pet at all in years. Dogs were straightforward and loyal, whereas cats were mischievous and unpredictable.
Kind of like Mabel,he thought, then quickly pushed the thought back to where it’d come from.
He extended a gloved hand. “Come on now,” he coaxed gently. “I’m trying to get you down. Make this easy on us both, why don’t you?”
The kitten regarded him suspiciously for a moment, then suddenly leapt—with surprising agility, even for a cat—not into George’s outstretched hands, but directly onto his shoulder.
George let out a yowl to match the kitten’s, as tiny claws dug through his shirt and into his skin. “Ouch!” he shouted, which only served to make the kitten’s claws dig in deeper.
The ladder rocked, and he nearly lost his balance. He grabbed the kitten with one hand, yanking it free of its death grip on his shoulder as he clung to the ladder with the other. The kitten squirmed, still meowing loudly and indignantly, as if George had been the one to turn the rescue haphazard instead of the kitten.
Jackson roared with laughter, startling the kitten again. If not for the work gloves, George would have ended up with claws buried in his hand. “Might want to put it back, George. Perfect Christmas tree topper, if I do say so myself.”
“Very funny,” George muttered, carefully making his way back down to solid ground with the wriggling creature clutched against his chest. Once he was no longer in danger of falling, he examined the tiny kitten, making sure it was alright. He still had no idea how it had made it from Mabel’s toy shop all the way out to his farm.
Its fur was a bit matted, but overall, the kitten looked fine. “Scrappy little thing, aren’t you?” George muttered, tugging off one glove to dare a small stroke of one hand over the tabby’s back and side, which he told himself was just to double-check that it was alright.
The kitten stared at him with clear indignation. “What am I supposed to do with you now?” George grumbled, already mentally calculating how much of his day he’d lost to the Great Christmas Kitten Rescue.
The tiny creature’s only response was to bat at the sunglasses hanging from the pocket of his shirt.
“Probably ought to take it back to Mabel, yeah?” Jackson suggested, coming up to scratch the kitten behind its ears. To George’s annoyance, the kitten immediately began to purr.
“I guess I don’t have much choice,” George sighed. He glanced at his watch. “So much for working on the gazebo today.”
“I’ll come with you,” Jackson said quickly. “I’ve been meaning to stop by the toy shop anyway.”
“To see Vanessa?” George raised a bushy eyebrow, and Jackson rolled his eyes.
“It’s not as if us dating is a secret, Lowery. It’s been a year. Yeah, I’m going to go see my girlfriend. You’re going to see yours, might as well make it a double date.” He grinned wolfishly, and George rolled his eyes.
