Page 83 of Desperately Seeking Kitty

I really hoped my face wasn’t actually on fire though it sure felt as if it was.

His forehead furrowed. “I think it’s possible.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“And do you think they can stay together for years and years? Or is it just a flash in the pan type of situation?”

He lifted my hand and kissed my fingertips, one by one, while my heartbeat rampaged in my ears. “If I had my way, it’d definitely be a years and years type of deal. Until they’re old and gray and racing in rocking chairs on the front porch of the retirement home, but not too fast so they don’t hurt any furry paws running about.”

I smiled. “Maybe we should write that book. See if we can make a mint.”

He leaned in to take my mouth, kissing me slow and sweet. “Can it include some dirty pictures?”

“Not if you want to sell it on Amazon, cabin-candy guy.”

“Aww, haven’t heard that nickname since the very first night.” He laughed richly. “I’ve got to get back to work. I really want to eat what’s in that Crockpot but I don’t know how many hours you can leave it on low, and I bargained with an earlier night by taking lunch.”

“If I have to take it out before you’re home—I mean, back,” I amended quickly, “there’s always leftovers.”

He brightened momentarily. “Yeah.”

“So Magnus went to your place?”

His brows knitted together. “Are you going to go talk to him?”

“I should. We’re business partners. Though our friendship comes first and I bungled it.”

“Not unfixably. I have faith in you, Kitty Armor.” He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. “Well, use that key I gave you and go talk some sense into him.” He frowned. “Or just call if it’s easier. Because you need to worry about you first.”

I smiled and cupped his beardy cheek. More dark scruff seemed to be growing in by the hour. “You’re not worried about us being alone together? I mean, if I can manage to make it there?”

“No. I’m smart enough to know if I have anything to worry about, it’ll happen without anyone else in the room with you.”

I sucked in a shaky breath. “You know me altogether too well already. It’s a little freaky.”

“Ditto. Keep those Crockpot fires burning for me, baby.” He tossed me a grin that so didn’t match the heaviness in his eyes. He rose then bent to brush a kiss over the top of a snoozing Lucky’s head.

“Hey, one last question. Did you really bury your bullet?” he asked on his way out the door, leaving me laughing in spite of myself.

No, but the thought had dramatic impact.

NINETEEN

Clint didn’t come homethat night. At all.

Even though I’d kind of expected it from the way he had talked, watching the hours wind down as morning approached still made me apprehensive. Almost the same way I felt while waiting for my father to do a no-show. And that wasn’t the least bit fair. The two men could not have been more different if they tried.

I wondered if he was catching an hour or two’s rest at his desk. Or dealing with untold emergencies. I kept checking my phone, my heart in my throat, but he didn’t call or text—and at this hour, he wouldn’t, for fear of waking me up. I should’ve told him to call at any hour. But maybe he just couldn’t. He was like a doctor that way, and hewasa doctor, just for tiny helpless creatures instead of humans.

Lucky didn’t seem to sleep much at night. More than once I opened my eyes from trying to sleep to find him sitting on my pillow beside my head—no, I hadn’t changed the sheets yet—staring down at me as if he wasn’t quite sure what I was doing there.

Or whathewas doing there.

Me, I wasn’t sure of anything—except that I finally closed the bedroom door in the hopes of getting some rest.

Sometime around seven a.m., I couldn’t just pretend to sleep any longer. I didn’t immediately get up. Instead, I grabbed my phone and worked on some German lessons for a while, hoping in the back of my mind Clint would arrive anytime now. Surely he would get some kind of break to come home? Okay, come to my place, if he had enough energy to do so. I had his cat.

---