@sweetkittymama
A strong, sensitive man holding and KISSING a kitten?! Sir. Are you trying to get me pregnant?
@clawenforcer
Imagine being Trevor’s teammates tomorrow. “Bro, saw you smooching cats and promoting a pig in pearls.” Absolute legend.
@pawsforlife42
She eats gourmet food? As she should. #PrincessDeservesLuxury
@furrealthough
Trevor Chapman: catcher, cat dad, pig promoter, breaker of hearts.
@clawenforcer
At the next press conference. “Yeah, we played a good game… Also, adopt Princess.”
@fur-ever_homes_usa
We’re loving all the support! Princess is currently enjoying a spa day (bubble bath and cucumbers included). Keep sharing so she can find her royal home soon!
@purrfectlyfine
Trevor could’ve just posted a workout clip, but instead he’s out here melting hearts and helping animals. Love that.
Chapter 15
Kenzie
“Ithought this would be a good place because it’s not far from the house,” I say, rambling more than I normally do since Trevor’s been quiet for the short drive to a nearby sports bar. “Jet shouldn’t be able to get into too much mischief while we’re away.”
Before we left, I filled the food and water bowls in Jet’s ‘room.’ It’s nothing official like Banks’s room, just a kitten-proofed guest bathroom with a baby gate.
He nods, cutting the engine and pulling on a plain white baseball hat. I swipe away the odd twinge of disappointment at Trevor covering his wavy hair, knowing he prefers to keep a low profile out in public.
Anticipation sings in my veins as we silently exit his truck. Trevor’s unusual stoicism aside, I’m excited to play pool. I’ve been watching how-to videos, and I’m pretty confident I’ll pick it up quickly. It’sladenwith math.
Country music and the clack of billiard balls greet us at the door followed by the scent of fried food. My stomach gurgles reflexively. I’d been too distracted by the confusing memory of Trevor’s hooded gaze tracing my hip to do more than push my single pancake around my plate earlier.
Trevor hums, the low sound sending pinpricks down my bare legs. “That smells good. Do you want something? I’m ordering fried pickles and onion rings if they have them.”
Since he follows such a tight dietary regimen during game days, Trevor enjoys the occasional treat on his days off.
“Fries and a Coke, please. I can pay for—”
“I got it.” Trevor waves me off as he beelines to the bar, ordering our food and asking about the pool tables.
Once we’re settled at the last open table, I arrange the balls in the same manner I’d seen in one of the instructional videos. The striped ten ball keeps sticking as I roll the rack, so I pluck it up and lift the hem of my white tee to buff it. My lips tug up after I return the ball to the table, and it rolls freely.
“The balls are racked,” I tell Trevor, setting the rack aside.
He doesn’t move from his position on the other side of the table, pool stick in hand. My roommate doesn’t even notice the perfect triangle I left behind because his gaze is fixed on my shirt.I glance down, noticing the smudges of blue cue chalk left on the fabric.
“It’s okay.” I shrug. “Can’t be worse than getting out garden dirt.”
Trevor blinks then, jolting into action. “You sure you don’t want to go first?”
