Page 80 of Desperately Seeking Kitty

Clint stroked his hand down my hair in even strokes, over and over, rhythmically lulling me into a state of almost relaxation. Somehow. Magic hands.

Magic everything when it came to this man. Especially when it came to healing my heart.

“We all do the very best we can at the moment we’re in. Doesn’t mean we’re perfect. But no one is. If we’re lucky, we get to get up and try again another day. I just know without a doubt you adored your Muffin, and I guarantee he knew it. Love is the strongest magic there is, Kitty Armor.”

He smiled down at me, and I didn’t hear angels sing or harps play but for an instant, the pain I’d carried so long over my mistakes faded away.

The load got just a bit lighter.

I couldn’t ask for anything more. Except one tiny thing.

“Don’t let me run,” I whispered, clutching his hand and holding it to my chest.

My heart was beating so fast I would’ve sworn he could see it outside my body. I’d mentioned running to him before but just in case he didn’t realize how deadly serious I was, it bore repeating.

“I don’t want to ruin this, and when I get scared, I lock myself down. Go underground. I really don’t want to this time. Don’t let me.”

He swallowed deeply, his gaze fixated on our joined hands. “I’ve been running too.”

“You mean about your job?”

“In the past, yeah, but not this time. I’ve stuck there. I’m in for the long haul—as long as I can.”

“Then how?” I pursed my lips, steeling myself to hear something I might not like. “From who?”

“My family. My dad wants me to be mayor of Clintondale when he retires. It’s just expected.”

“Mayor. Wow. How big is Clintondale?Whereis Clintondale?”

“A few hours from here. Last I knew the population was around 600 people. My relatives make up a good chunk of that.” He laughed drily. “Our forefathers have been mayor as long as the town existed. Since, you know, I’m even named after it. Like my father and grandfather.”

“And you don’t feel like mayor material?” I guessed, my mind reeling. I’d wondered if he had some secret woman in his past he was avoiding or something.

Not a political dynasty—of sorts.

“Me?” He laughed. “Do you see me with a proper political wife and two-point-five well-groomed children?”

I frowned. “Your cat is well-groomed.”

His laughter rolled out of him until he fell back onto the bed.

I shifted to lay beside him, resting my head on his chest and sneaking my fingers between the flaps of his button-down shirt so I could stroke his warm, hair-roughened skin. “I have a lot saved up. You can quit your job and I’ll pay you to be my love slave.”

“Shit, I’d do that for free. I mean, shows the kind of lackluster gigolo I am but…” He turned his thousand-watt smile on me. “I invited Mag to our turducken feast, by the way. Hope that’s okay.”

“You invited him to our Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t want him to be alone. He could always go home but I didn’t think he’d want to just turn around and fly back without having some kind of vacation. Then while he’s here, maybe you guys can talk.”

I lifted my hand to his forehead. “No fever. And you’re an actual flesh-and-blood man, so not a figment of my imagination.”

Clint gripped my hand and spread out my fingers to kiss the tip of each one. “I figure being worthy of being your guy is a healthy first step to actually, you know, being your guy.”

I squeezed my eyes shut before they could flood yet again. “What if I’m not worthy of you?”

“Not possible.”

“Oh, it’s very possible. You’re so strong and brave and you save so many little souls, and me, I’m afraid of ordering a deli sandwich if I can’t do it on my computer in my safe apartment.”

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