He waved as Diego drove off, then again at the two desk attendants before stepping onto the elevator. Jericho wasn’t sure what he’d find when he arrived. Atticus had seemed pretty on edge when he’d shown up earlier. He’d been working far too hard the last few days.
Jericho tried to pick up the slack for the Mulvaneys so they would leave Atticus to do what he did best, but, sometimes, Jericho did need his assistance. They’d had a few jobs over the last couple of weeks, and he could see Atticus getting a bit more wound up with each passing day. All that angst had to go somewhere.
Jericho flushed, thinking about Atticus bent over and wet for him on his office couch. Every time he’d looked at that couch for the rest of the day, he got a hard on. He’d have to con Atticus into visiting for nooners more often.
He shared the elevator with the prickly old woman from the third floor. The one with the purse dog. She gave him a look, taking in his permanently stained hands, wrinkling her nose. “What is that horrid smell?”
Jericho was certain she meant the scent of dirt and motor oil from the garage still clinging to his skin, but he looked her dead in the eye and said, “Sex. I just had sex.”
She made a disgusted sound, practically running off the elevator. Jericho chuckled the rest of the way up to the apartment, punching in the code to the door and stopping short. Atticus was sound asleep on the couch, one leg hanging off and his hands behind his head. He was wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms.
Jericho had never seen Atticus in sleep clothes during daylight hours, but that wasn’t what shocked him. What shocked him was the tiny ball of fluff curled up on his chest. Jericho dropped his bag on one of the kitchen stools, taking in a case of tiny cat food cans that probably cost a fortune.
There was also a cat tower with a hammock and little hiding spots and toys scattered across the floor. There was even a little fluffy bed beside the sofa. Jericho crossed the floor, gently scooping the kitten up, smiling when she gave a tiny meow. She was no longer covered in fleas and mites. In fact, she lookedshiny and clean. She was even wearing a tiny pink rhinestone collar with a tag that said “Boots.”
Not highly original as far as animal names went but it was appropriate and Atticus had done it himself. “Rise and shine, Freckles,” Jericho said, gently nudging him with his knee.
Atticus swung into a sitting position, looking around the room in confusion, relieved for a brief moment when he saw Jericho holding the kitten. Almost as quickly, his face flushed and he looked around the apartment, like he’d just woken from a fugue state to find bodies on his floor.
“You good, Freckles?” Jericho asked, amused but also slightly concerned.
Atticus nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he said, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Long day.”
“Wanna tell me anything?” Jericho prompted.
Atticus flushed to the tips of his ears, muttering, “We have a cat.”
“And how did that happen, Freckles? When you left the shop, I was half afraid you were going to chuck Boots here in a dumpster.”
Atticus looked horrified. “I would never do that.”
Gutting, skinning, butchering…none of that bothered Atticus. He could sit and eat a seven course meal while Jericho slowly tortured somebody, but he recoiled in horror at the idea of harming a kitten. That was why Jericho loved him. That right there. Atticus had his priorities right.
“I was kidding, Freckles. But can you tell me what happened between you leaving my shop and you maxing out your black card at PetCo?”
“One: my black card doesn’t have a limit. Two: I called Calliope to get the address of the shelter.”
Jericho snickered. Of course, he had. Why would his researcher husband consult Google for such a task when hecould harass his hacker best friend? “And the shelter wouldn’t take”—he raised the kitten to check and see the sex—“her?”
Atticus’s jaw thrust forward as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know. I never called.”
Jericho smirked. “And why is that?”
“Because Calliope said there are thousands of kittens dropped off at those shelters every day and they sometimes don’t get adopted for months.”
“And that thought upset you, Freckles?” Jericho prodded gently.
Once more, Atticus shifted his gaze away. “No. Of course not. I just don’t want to contribute to a problem. I have the means to take care of one tiny animal. There’s no reason why she can’t live here instead of a shelter. It’s the least I can do.”
Jericho scratched the top of the kitten’s head. “So…it has nothing to do with you actually liking the kitten. This is just you doing your civic duty?”
“Yes, exactly. I’m glad you finally understand.”
Jericho rolled his eyes, handing her back to Atticus. “Whatever you say, Freckles. I’m going to go take a shower. Chicken for dinner, right?”
“Uh…let’s just do delivery?” Atticus hedged.
Jericho studied him. “Why’s that, Freckles?”
