Page 47 of The Unhinged Christmas of a Cat Lady
I close the door behind him, heart thudding and immediately remember:
1. there’s a towel on the sofa with my vibrator bundled inside and
2. my laptop is still paused on gay porn.
And he’s heading straight for the living room.
I panic-sprint past him with a muttered “Sorry, mess, just let me—” and all but launch myself in front of the sofa, planting my body in the exact spot that blocks the screen. Casual. Very casual. Like a statue that doesn’t want to die of shame.
Twinklesocks and Thor stir in their basket to the left, yawning and stretching as if they’ve had a long morning of doing absolutely nothing. Twinklesocks clocks Jasper immediately—and that’s it. Her little ginger body’s off like a bullet, straight to him like she’s been waiting her whole life for this moment.
He crouches smoothly, toolbox placed on the floor next to him, and strokes her back with one firm hand. “There she is,” he murmurs. “Good girl. You keeping everyone in line?”
His voice is soft. Fond. The kind of tone that makes ovaries sigh and women go weak at the knees. Twinklesocks purrs like she’s about to marry him.
I stand there, arms awkwardly crossed in front of my chest, doing my best not to swoon. Because this—this right here—this image of him in a tight black shirt, crooning to a ginger kitten, forearms flexed and face gentle?
This may very well be more effective than the bear porn.
And then.
Then.
From behind me comes the unmistakable, echoing sound of a deep male voice growling through my laptop speakers:
“Take it, boy.”
I freeze.
Jasper straightens up slowly, Twinklesocks still in his arms. He looks past me.
I turn, following his gaze, dread thick in my throat.
Thor is on the coffee table, gleefully pouncing across the laptop keyboard like it’s a toy made for chaos. The screen’s bright. Loud. Very muchnot paused.
And on it, a large, hairy man is enthusiastically rearranging a smaller, naked man’s internal organs with a level of commitment that should come with a warning label.
For a few seconds, neither of us says a thing.
Then I lurch forward, scoop Thor up, and snap the laptop shut with a decisiveclack.
Silence.
I turn slowly to face Jasper, cheeks burning, throat dry, humiliation leaking from every pore.
He looks... confused. And maybe a little stunned.
Twinklesocks is still curled in one of his arms, purring obliviously.
Jasper’s free hand is lifted slightly, hovering near her head, like he’s trying to shield her eyes from the screen.
It’s... adorable.
And also completely insane.
He’s quiet for a second. Then he finds his voice. “Was that… gay porn?”
I groan internally. Externally, I mumble, “Yes.” Because honestly, there’s no bloody point in denying it now.
