Page 22 of Desperately Seeking Kitty

As the eldest son of Clintondale Lee Hauser, Junior, I wasn’t allowed to be odd in any way. My only choice was to be perfectly respectable.

Even if I’d already violated that, not that anyone knew. Or would ever know, I hoped to hell. Not because I was ashamed. I just didn’t want to deal with it.

That was pretty much how I handled most family things, including holiday meals: avoidance until the very last second.

Until then, I hoped yet again a meteorite just might turn me into flaming rubble so I wouldn’t have to go.

I loved my family. I truly did. I just didn’t particularly relish spending time with them, especially as a whole.

Our family was freaking gigantic. Loud. Noisy. Boisterous. And then there were the family pictures that would end up on the Mayor of Clintondale’s Christmas card to remind everyone that Mayor Hauser truly was the world’s best family man.

It was a wonder I didn’t drink more often. Not counting the paper bag of cheap liquor on the front seat.

Did Kitty have a sordid present of her own? What had that sex scene been all about? And was there more where that came from?

Was that something not for sale, like maybe some sort of fan fiction? Maybe Rina and Sven were some kind of code names for, I don’t know, Damon and Elena? Though I was pretty sure butt sex never made it onto network television.

Dammit, I should’ve checked how many pages that document was.

You’re never going to get another look at it, so don’t torture yourself.

It had to be fan fiction. If it was a short story or novel, that might mean she was in the romance author community unless a friend had sent her something to read for her as a favor. But the possibility existed Kitty was involved enough in the business to recognize me.

Or my abs. Although, she’d gotten a look online and hadn’t seemed suspicious.

Don’t flatter yourself. All abs and dicks look roughly the same. Even the better ones.

Rather than go further down that rabbit hole, I veered back to thinking about the sweet pug sleeping off his surgery in a cage at Thorny Paw. Before I could consider the impulse, I scrolled through the list of phone numbers in my contact list and hit a button on my car’s in-dash screen.

A very cranky voice answered. “Dude, you know I don’t get up this early.”

I had to laugh at my buddy Dex’s obvious irritation. He’d been giving me shit since he, our cop friend Jimmy Greer, and I had been undergraduates together at Syracuse University. “Yet you answered.”

“It was reflex. What do you want? I’m not getting you out of another traffic ticket. This time it’s defensive driving school for you, pal.”

Jeez, speed once accidentally in a school zone and some people never let you forget it.

“It was only that one time a long time ago, and I thanked you profusely for your help. But I have a gift for you.”

“Hmm. What kind of gift?”

“What were you saying you needed last time I saw you?”

“A look up Lacy Lancaster’s skirt at the bar?”

I sputtered out a laugh. Only Dex, man. “Not quite. A stray pug came into the clinic tonight with a paw injury. Fixed him right up, but he needs a home.”

“Aww, poor little guy…wait, what? No. I’m not home enough to have a dog.”

“Just come meet him tomorrow on your lunch. I bet you’ll be fast friends. I’ll pay the adoption fee,” I added quickly.

“Oh, yeah, that was what’s holding me back. The fee.” He sighed heavily. “I’ll come meet him but no promises. Now let me get back to sleep, will you?”

“I will. Thanks, man. Dinner with Jimmy next month?”

“If I’m still talking to you. See ya.” He clicked off and I grinned with satisfaction. Dex would take that adorable pug home with him, I just knew it. He pretended he was a badass but he secretly had a heart of gold.

And a very active social life I was not at all jealous of.

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