Page 54 of Desperately Seeking Kitty

“I just bet you don’t.”

I didn’t answer. What was I supposed to say?

“Go on then, bring him his so-called lunch. He’s probably just dying to have you again.” Mag clicked off and I was left staring at the phone.

What had just happened?

Sickness brewed in my belly. I didn’t understand any of this. Why was Mag so mad? Was he really that worried I was risking my safety? Clint wasn’t dangerous. I knew that down to my bones.

I rubbed my neck, trying to ease the sudden tightness in my muscles. All that blessed looseness from earlier—gone in a flash. I mean, I hadn’t entirely been loose, thanks to my no-show father. But that hadn’t been tension so much as sadness.

Again.

Now I was sad, mad,andtense. Most of all, I was confused.

I wished I had a girlfriend to talk to. I used to have those, years ago. And they hadn’t been the type to really confide in, just hang out with. I needed to talk to someone who understood men and would give it to me straight.

At a loss, I googled Clint Hauser III, DVM. Which sent me down a rabbit hole that led to his many professional awards and certificates and his long list of positive reviews at Thorny Paw Clinic and elsewhere. His middle name was Lee, same as his father.

And wow, there was also a model named Lee Hauser. How weird was that? He even did covers.

Romancecovers.

I couldn’t click on them fast enough. In most, the guy’s face was cut off. There were a lot of torso shots. I mean, what a torso it was, so who could blame them for focusing on that part of him exclusively?

Then I landed upon a treasure trove.

There was a blown-up shot on an easel at a romance convention that I stumbled upon after diving into a deep web of romance covers that didn’t really do much for me.

I was used to looking at them as part of my business. Styles had changed in the past few years, so the half-naked shots weren’t as common now but—

Son of a bitch, Lee Hauser was my vet!

I recognized those tattoos. They were right by his sin lines, as one of my authors called them. They’d tried to airbrush out the tattoos but for this cover he was playing a pirate, eye patch and all, so apparently they hadn’t tried very hard.

And there was Lee Hauser in the flesh, pirate costume in place—which wasn’t much more than britches, eye patch, and fake sword in his, um, holster, next to his very real sword that was not on display.

Actually it was. Those pants didn’t hide much.

Even with one eye covered, there was no missing the brightness of his green eyes. He was more beardy here, but that cut granite jaw still made my belly flip.

I swallowed and sat back. Mag was right. I really didn’t know everything about him. Just the part he’d seen fit to tell me.

What else was a lie between us? The chemistry? The way he seemed to laugh and get me and like spending time with me, even when I was weird?

What would be the point if it wasn’t real?

It had to be real. It felt more so than anything else ever had.

Did you forget telling him your name is Kitty Armor? That’s not true either. So if you’re going to accuse him of scamming you for some purpose, you did the same thing.

But I hadn’t been trying to scam him. I’d just been using the name that made me feel brave.

Armor was something I desperately needed, both with my father and Clint.

Now I also needed it for some reason with Mag too. My only real friend.

Or at least he had been. I didn’t know where we stood now.

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