“You are doing it for yourself,” she finished. “For your knee, and for regaining your confidence. The chair was your first crutch, and these are the new ones. The goal is to rely on them less, not more. You can do this.”
“I know I can,” he snapped without turning around.
He knew no such thing. Any second now, he was about to splatter half-melted ice cream all over the Duke of Azureford’s furniture. Right before tumbling arse-over-teakettle himself.
From the corner of his eye, a stealthy black shadow crept into the parlor.
“No,” Theo told the cat firmly. “Do not jump on the sofa. We’ll both be wearing the ice cream.”
Duke lowered his shoulders and arched his hips in preparation to pounce.
Theo’s hand shot out and snatched the dish from the back of the settee seconds before the cat landed in the same spot.
Wood clattered against the Axminster carpet as his forgotten crutch crashed to the floor.
“This is your fault,” he informed the cat, then turned to Virginia. “Yours, too.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Hurry. Your competition just caught wind of the dish atop the clock.”
Theo scooped the single bite of ice cream into his mouth, then bent to retrieve his fallen crutch.
He could not yet put his full weight on his wounded knee, but Virginia was correct that he had been using the crutches as extra legs instead of strengthening the ones he had.
She was also right that if Theo didn’t do something soon, Duke would be first to the next bowl of ice cream.
He half-walked, half-swung himself across the parlor with more speed than he ever dreamed. Theo already shared a guestroom with that wretched creature. He wasn’t about to share his ice cream, too.
Once he rescued the treasure, he shot a dark look at Virginia. “I thought you said recovery was a march, not a race.”
“Recovery is a march,” she agreed as she carried her basket to the other side of the room. “Ice cream is a race.”
There was no way Theo was going to beat the cat that far… Unless he did something about it.
Foregoing the spoon, Theo tipped the bowl of melting ice cream to his mouth and swallowed the tiny serving. He slid the dish off the carpet and tapped his fingers against the hardwood floor to catch the cat’s attention.
Duke glanced over his shoulder in boredom, then kept advancing toward the new bowl.
“You know you want it,” Theo cajoled. “Duke, Duke, Duke.”
The one word the beast could not resist.
With obvious irritation, the cat gave up its hunt for the fresh bowl of ice cream in order to race over and hiss.
Before the beast could run off, Theo scooted the dish beneath his chin.
Duke stopped baring his teeth at once and lowered his tongue into the bowl.
Victorious, Theo glanced over at Virginia.
She was not even trying to hide her laughter.
“Wars are won with brains, not brawn,” he informed her as he swung past to retrieve his prize.
By the time the last of the ice cream had been consumed, Theo and Virginia were both giggling like children as they collapsed into side-by-side wingback chairs.
“That wasn’t ice cream,” he growled. “It was runny, melted sweet milk.”
“Get faster,” she replied unrepentantly. “I didn’t hear Duke complain.”
