It’s like a pet store took over while I was sleeping.
Just without the kittens.
Frowning, a coil of disappointment sliding through me, I sit up and look around.
But not a single fluff ball is in sight.
“Oh, you’re up,” I hear and turn to see Chrissy, Rory, and River sitting in the kitchen, each with a steaming mug in front of them.
“Youwoke her up.” River scowls. “I told you two you should come back.”
“We made a dozen trips right by her over the last hour and she didn’t so much as move,” Rory says. “I think she’s fine.”
“I am.” I stand and stretch.
“Still,” Chrissy murmurs, coming over to me and giving me a quick hug. “We’re sorry we woke you. Rome is watching the baby and King is bringing the kittens over in just a bit, so we were on a bit of a time crunch.”
“They going to be here soon?”
Her face goes soft and I know it’s because the eagerness in my question is obvious.
But I can’t help it.
Kitties!
Despite seriously resenting working on the farm growing up, I got used to having animals around. Years ago, Brooks had offered to fill our house with critters, the stables with horses, but at first, I just wanted to breathe. Then when I started school and he was sweeping me off to spend time with him in fabulouslocations on my days off, I knew I couldn’t give a pet the time they deserved, so I held off.
Now, though, I have nothingbuttime.
I’m stuck in this apartment with nothing to do. So why not cuddle some adorable little fluffer nuggets?
Well, I don’t actuallyhaveto stay. I could leave. Could go back to my life.
I’m just…I’m not quite ready to go yet.
A soft knock pulls me out of those depressing thoughts and a man I don’t recognize pops his head in through the front door, sending my pulse skittering.
“Hey, John,” Chrissy says, and I relax when it’s clear she knows him. “Everything okay?”
He nods then pushes the door open further, holding it for…
Kittens!
Their tiny meows reach my ears before I realize that another man is behind King, two additional carriers in hand. He’s tall, with salt and pepper hair, but he hefts the carriers with ease.
“Thorn!” Chrissy exclaims, hurrying over and taking one of the containers from him. “You didn’t have to help.”
He shrugs. “What else am I gonna do when I walk by and see the man struggling?”
I can think of a lot of things—namely, what most people would do.
Walk by and carry on with their day.
But he hadn’t, and that along with the careful way he brings the kennel over, sets it on the floor, tells me all I need to know about him.
He’s scowly and his tone borders on sharp. But he’s good.
“Can I get you guys anything?” River asks, coming over and all but shoving a mug of hot cocoa in my hand.
