“Nosy bastards,” JoJo muttered. “They think they need to know everything.”
Occam glided down the hallway, his cat close to the surface, his eyes glowing in the lights. Behind him came Margot, equally ready to shift. FireWind and Rettell walked side by side, her gait steady and her demeanor unruffled, cat-smooth beside FireWind’s skinwalker grace.
My official cell pinged and I glanced down to see JoJo had gotten to the good stuff hidden in Rettell’s sleeve. I’d have nighttime reading.
The people in the hallway filed into the conference room and took chairs. All but Rick LaFleur. My up-line boss stood in the hallway, at the stairs, staring, looking as if he’d been hit by a sledgehammer. He was watching Rettell like a hawk. Or a hungry cat.
Or…or like a churchman looking at a woman he wanted.
I backed deeper into the conference room.
Occam was instantly at my side. “Nell, sugar?” he murmured. “You got leaves growing.” He followed my stare to Rick. “Ohhh.” He slid an arm around me, closed both our laptops, and began to guide me out of the room. “FireWind. Nell and I’ll be leaving now. Have someone send us the minutes.”
I didn’t hear FireWind’s response. Had the sensation of being pushed out of the room, to the right, away from whatever was happening in the conference room, and back to my cubicle. Minutes later, I was being pelted by sleet, then sitting in thepassenger seat of my car, the heated seat on, and Occam driving us toward home.
I took a breath, breathed out hard, and took another breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? I’m guessing you never saw a werecat who just…let’s say, fell madly in love. Rick is smitten and he didn’t control his reaction.”
I frowned hard at the sleet beating on the windshield. I had seen barn cats and even bobcats mating. Sex and fury and loud desperation. Yeah. Rick had that look. Occam had never looked at me like that. I frowned harder and thought about whether I was going to say that to him. “That was normal werecat behavior?”
“Pretty much,” he said calmly, slowing long before an intersection to avoid sliding on the icy road.
Except for brine and sand trucks moving here and there, the streets were deserted.
I thought about him and Yummy, and something green that wasn’t leaves coiled through me. I yanked leaves off my head and from the tips of my fingers and added them to my pocket. It was getting full.
“She didn’t seem interested,” I said.
“Oh, she was interested. She’s just been a werecat longer than Rick. She’s better at hiding visual cues. But when a werecat is interested, all the cats around know it.” Casually he added, “First time I saw you, it took a bit to get calmed down. Had a long talk with LaFleur about boundaries and your history. And then a talk with Soul about how to court a plant-woman.” He took his eyes off the road for a second to glance at me. “Anyway, I was advised to take it slow and easy, to not pounce on you like a rabbit, and to remember that you deserve dignity and honor at every single moment. So I didn’t pounce.” A bit too proud for the situation, he added, “I stalked instead.”
The clump of ice that had formed inside me at the sight of Rick’s face, and again from the cold air, began to melt. My frown melted away too. Part of it was the heated seat. The rest was Occam, knowing just the right thing to say. “You stalked me?”
“Yep. You never knew it.”
“Did you—” I stopped and gave a shrug as if to say it wasn’t important.
“Did I feel like Rick when I first saw you? Damn straight. First time I ever got hit by a truck was the day I saw you.”
“Truck. Sledgehammer,” I said.
“Beg pardon, Nell, sugar?”
“When I saw Rick’s face, I thought he’d been hit by a sledgehammer. Then I understood and it reminded me of a churchman on the prowl.”
“Ummm,” Occam said.
“I love you, Occam.”
“I love you too, Nell, sugar.”
I wanted to hold his hand, but he needed both on the wheel to drive. So I just turned in my seat and watched my cat-man, wondering if I was brave enough to see that look of need and desperation on his face when he looked at me. And that thought warmed me even more.
* * *
As we decorated the tree, Mud danced around it like a four-year-old. Cherry got what Occam called the zoomies, running up and down the stairs, confused but excited at Mud’s exuberant happiness. We let the puppy run until she skidded into the tree, knocking it over and breaking the three glass balls Mud had put on. Now it had nothing on it but multicolored lights and three cats, who refused to leave it be. Because of the cat weight, Occam had been forced to tie the tree to the desk and one window latch to keep it upright.
The tree had no ornaments on it, but it was beautiful, the multicolored lights reflecting in the windows, the house lamps off except one near the stove. Outside, the sleet had turned to a snow-sleet mixture, whispering against the house and the metal roof and changing the landscape into a beautiful but treacherous frozen wonderland. I toed off a slipper and felt through the wood floors, into the land. It was lazy, drowsy, but still aware, and I’d know if anyone crept onto Soulwood. Even the Green Knight was peaceful, but my land was guarded from predators.
