I scritch the space next to her mouth. “I’m not just any man and she’s not just any cat. Isn’t that right, kitty?”
Stormy kneads my thighs and Darcy’s jaw drops. “Is she making biscuits? She loves you! What is going on here?”
“Miss Darcy’s about to get her familiar stolen, isn’t she, kitty?” I coo. “How’d you get her?”
“Rescued her,” Darcy says. “Literally. I was leaving work one day and it was raining real hard. I heard this weak little screech, and even though I was getting soaked, I couldn’t ignore the sound.” She watches Stormy on my lap, her eyes softening. “My little girl was in a current in the gutter, about to get swept into the sewer.”
I cover Stormy’s ears and gasp. “No! Not this kitty!”
“I know,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “I took her back into the office and got her warmed up. Sat on the floor with her by the space heater under my desk. Nursed her back to health. And then she was just mine.”
“Where’d you work?” I ask.
“I worked for the hockey team in Raleigh. I didn’t have much puck knowledge when I started, even though my second cousin dated one of the Seattle Sealpups. I didn’t really think they’d hire me, but they liked my writing and organization, so I got the job.”
I nod, then pause. “Wait, the NHL team?”
“Yeah,” she says.
“You miss it?”
Darcy picks up the Bulleit Rye bottle and pours a little more into her glass, suddenly turning morose. “I was just considering that while we were walking over here. I’m not sure.” She holds the bottle toward me. “More?”
“I’m not driving, why not?” I ask, gathering up the cards to put them away. “Let’s play my game now.”
Darcy guffaws. “What game is that?”
“Never have I ever,” I say. “You drink if you’ve done something I say I haven’t.”
“Oh, I’m familiar,” she says with a smirk.
“Good, then you can start.” I take a sip of whiskey while I think, rubbing my lips together after I swallow.
Darcy’s eyes travel over my throat, her cheeks turning a soft pink. “Never have I ever gotten a tattoo.”
I drink. She props her chin on her fist. “What is it?”
I lift my shirt and slide my arm through the left sleeve so she can see the whole thing. “Oh, geez,” she says, holding up her hands to shield her eyes.
“It’s just my chest, darlin’.”
“It’s Darcy,” she snaps back.
I wink at her. “I know what I said.”
A flush creeps higher on her neck and she lightly shakes her head to clear it. “A tiger, huh?”
A tiger stretches from the top of my shoulder down to my heart, where the tail coils around. “Indeed.”
“Just the one?” she asks.
I tip my head to the side. “For now.”
She nods. “Alright. Your turn.”
I hold back a shit-eating grin. “Never have I ever been flustered by someone I saw sitting in a bar.”
Darcy’s eyes narrow and she chuckles as she lifts her glass. I lift mine too. “You’re not supposed to say things you’ve done. The point is to get the other person drunk.”
