Right. Normal human interaction required. Teddy opened the door wider to let Finn in. “So, this is what you do? Board cats and dogs? How many more do you have over there?”
“Only Nora right now,” Finn said with a chuckle, “and she’s mine. I started out fostering her but couldn’t let her go. I try to have only one or two other animals at any given time. But that’s on the side. By day, I’m—”
His cell phone went off, a call with the ringtone “Miss Independent,” which made his cheeks flush as he set down the carrier.
“Uh, I did not choose that ringtone. It’s my sister, sorry.”
“I can relate.” Teddy waved him away.
“This is Smudge’s current food and treats.” He set down a plastic bag. “Just open the carrier and let him come out in his own time. I’ll stop by later to see how you two are getting along.” Before Teddy could refute that, Finn answered the call and turned to exit. “Hey, Rose, what’s up?”
“Great,” Teddy huffed, closing the door behind him and turning to face the carrier. He sluggishly got down on his knees to open the latch rather than bend, which was what he was supposed to do, but it still made him feel silly and incapable.
Smudge didn’t move.
“I don’t bite, I promise,” Teddy said as he carefully sat, but the beautiful feline remained tense and stationary. “I also can’t run very fast, so I can hardly chase you. No? New environment, I get it. I realize I don’t come across as very personable. There’s a reason all my past relationships ended badly and I don’t have many friends, but I’ve been told my worst side was my demanding nature on the job, and I can’t exactly berate you for a sloppypas de bourrée.”
Smudge didn’t even tilt his head to look at Teddy.
“Still nothing, huh? I thought cats, being assholes themselves, didn’t mind fellow assholes. You too good for me, Smudge? We really need to do something about that name. Come on.” Slowly, Teddy grabbed the cat to pull him from the carrier, discovering stiff limbs but not too much resistance, and lifted him into a baby hold.
He really was beautiful. And soft.
“There now. I’m not so bad, am I?”
Smudge blinked at him; then just as Teddy attempted to stroke his chin, he hissed, squirmed to get free, and darted off into the house, leaving Teddy thankfully unscratched but very much alone.
Wonderful.
The next few hours were spent calling for Smudge, leaving out food as incentive that occasionally would magically disappear, but still no cat. Even the litter box Teddy set up in the laundry room had been used. How was a twelve-pound cat such a ninja? Maybe because Teddy moved slower than he used to.
Being crouched down on all fours calling for Smudge beneath the sofa—if he was even under there—was probably why he didn’t hear the door.
“Are you supposed to be in positions like that?” Finn’s voice caused him to smack his head against the bottom of the sofa. “Oh shit, sorry.”
Teddy refrained from growling as he sat back on his heels and tried not to glare at Finn, who was muffling chuckles behind his hand and still looked gorgeous.
“Really sorry. I uhh… let myself in.”
“I noticed.”
“You didn’t wait for Smudge to come out on his own, did you?”
Even what was supposed to be the sweetest cat in existence had rejected Teddy. “I don’t suppose you have any bright ideas for finding him,” he said—just as Smudge jumped onto the coffee table, happily rubbing into Finn’s hand when he reached for him. Teddy turned his glare onto the cat. “You do remember that he’s the one who abandoned you here.”
“Teddy.” Finn laughed. “He can sense you’re irritated. You just need to stay calm.”
“I thought pets were supposed to be the ones keeping us calm.”
“Treat him like a small child.” Finn sat on the coffee table, while Smudge stuck close to his side, purring at his offered scratches.
“I hate children,” Teddy said, but Finn was undeterred.
“How about like a new student, then, just learning to dance?”
“You know that awful coach onDance Moms?”
“Yeah.”
