Page 66 of Unravel Me

CHAPTER15

THE ONE WHERE THEY WORE FAKE MUSTACHES

ROSIE

Early Monday morningsat Wildheart are near impossible to beat. It’s a slow start, the quiet hum of music drifting from the radio on the front desk, the soft purr of the cats lounging in their pods while they wait for their forever homes, stretching lazily in the sunshine, bellies out and begging for scritches.

There’s a certain peace that comes with being the only one here for an hour or two while the rest of the world wakes up from their weekends. It’s a safe type of happiness, in a bubble of contentment, pretending for just a moment that we’re not all restarting on Mondays, rushing out the door, and gearing up for a long, drawn-out week where you can barely stand by the end of it.

A wet nose nudges my pocket, and I smile down at Piglet. “You like Monday mornings, too, huh?”

What she really likes is the treats tucked in my pocket. Her nose spots those things from a mile away, and she won’t stop looking up at me with those ginormous gooey-brownie eyes until I give her one. Or five.

“You’re irresistible, you know that, Pig?” She takes the treat from my palm and trots happily beside me, making our way to the cat sanctuary, her favorite place to be. Turns out she’s got a mothering streak a mile wide.

She’s been incredible with Adam and Bear on our weekly hikes, and though she still seems so utterly depressed when I head to her kennel first thing in the morning, the moment she spots me, she leaps to her feet, tail wagging, tongue out, ready for any adventure. On quiet mornings like these, I wear her lead around my waist, let her walk around the shelter with me. She loves the newfound freedom, but, God, these cats. I don’t think she’d ever seen one before, judging by the way she stared with the widest eyes at the first one through its door for five minutes straight, not moving a single muscle.

And then that cat stood, stretched, walked right over to Piglet, and touched her tiny pink nose against her big, wet black one, and all hell broke loose.

Piglet leapt into the air, spun around butt first, and promptly dropped to her back with her belly up, ready to play with the fluffball. She’s been great socialization for the cats, and they for her.

Archie thinks Piglet will be ready for adoption soon. The thought makes my palms itchy and my throat thick. So badly, I want her home to be with me. I don’t want to have to say good-bye to her. I want to be the person she trusts, the lap she throws herself in every morning, the face she covers with kisses.

But she deserves more than me. More time, more money, more space. I’ve got the love; I just don’t have anything else. And Piglet deserves it all, not just the scraps.

A car door slams out front, followed by deep laughter, and I peek out the front window as two men approach the entrance. Piglet cocks her head, hesitant but curious.

I smooth the spot between her eyes as she nuzzles her head in my palm. “You want to say hi, girl? Are you up for it?”

She stays glued to my leg as she follows me to the front desk. When our guests stroll in, she scurries behind me, nearly stuffing her entire face in my butt.

“You’re safe, Pig,” I tell her. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

“Oh shit,” one of the men murmurs. “That’s Piglet.”

My forehead crumples. Maybe Archie’s been sharing her picture on the shelter’s social media page. Sometimes he does these photoshoots with ridiculous hats, and they goviral. I don’t understand it, but people always rush in to see the animals afterward. Maybe my Pig has gone…viral.

Ugh. I don’t like the sounds of that.

The men are about my age, maybe a bit older. One with golden waves and turquoise eyes, the other with brown hair and tattoos. Both ridiculously large and attractive, with happy, easy grins and a presence around them that seems oddly…warm. Friendly. They also both have mustaches, one brown and one blond, but the shape is so identical, so clean and perfect, they almost look…fake.

Yes, I’m certain these mustaches are fake as hell, but I don’t know why.

Piglet doesn’t seem to second-guess the mustaches, shoving her head between my legs, sending me toppling sideways into the desk, her nose going a mile a minute while she sizes them up.

“She’s fucking cute, dude,” the tattooed one whispers to his blond friend.

“Sorry. This is Piglet. She’s one of our rescues, and she’s learning to trust men. And yes, she is super cute, and she knows it.”

The blond crouches down, smiling at her. “We won’t bother you, pretty girl.”

Pig’s tail starts thwacking against the desk. She doesn’t get any closer, but the tension in her lithe body dissipates as she looks between us.

“Can I help you guys?”

The blond leaps to his feet and shoves a hand through his hair, looking to his friend with wide eyes. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we were gonna…” He slaps his friend’s chest with the back of the hand. “You were gonna look at those…those…cats.”

The tattooed man claps his hands together. “Yeah! Yeah, I was gonna look at those cats! For you, though. ’Cause you wanted to get Jennie a…a cat. For her birthday.”

---