“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” he says, putting a hand out.
I laugh despite myself. “It isn’t going to work.”
“Just give him a minute.”
I cross my arms. “Yeah sure. Take your time, but you need to go after an hour.”
“Have a little faith,” he says mildly. “Here, kitty! Oh, Señor Mittens~!”
I prop an elbow against the couch and rest my temple against my knuckles. Noah seems ridiculously confident as he holds his hand out. But then his self-assurance is one of the sexiest things about him. He must’ve never failed at anything, which is why he’s so sure he can win my cat over—and me.
Personally, I need a vision board, meditation and a lot of friend-support to help shake off doubts and negative beliefs about myself, what I want and my success. The objects help remind me of what I deserve—what I should strive for.
Señor Mittens slowly emerges from the kitchen, looking bored. If he could speak, he’d say,What lowly animal is calling my name?
Still, the fact that he’s come out at all is a miracle. I stare at Noah in shock. He might as well have parted the Red Sea.
He grins.
Okay, time to end this. “Señor Mittens,” I say in my sweetest voice. “Come here, baby.”
“Come here, kitty,” says Noah. He makes a little kissy sound with his lips.
My cat gives me a glance, then trots over to Noah and rubs his head against his hand. Not only that, hepurrs.
I gasp, sitting up straight. “Traitor!”
“Not a traitor. He just loves me.”
“How?”
I stare at my cat, wondering if Noah somehow swapped him with a different animal. I reach over and pull him into my arms and check his paw. He’s missing the toe. But even if he weren’t, I’d know that disdainful expression and those slitted eyes when he’s pleased. I hold him for a moment longer, then put him down and gaze at Noah, who’s looking on with a lopsided grin.
“What have you done to my cat?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Noah
Bobbi looks at me, half-horrified, half-mesmerized. If this were back in the late sixteen-hundreds, she would probably try to burn me at the stake.
“What have I done? Nothing.” I grin. “I just happen to be a pussy whisperer.”
A war erupts within her—the struggle not to giggle. She bites her lip but the corners twitch up. Then she has to break eye contact and look anywhere but me. Finally, she just gives in and lets it go, and her laughter rings through the house
No matter what happens, she doesn’t lose her sense of humor. It’s making me fall in love with her all over again.
I let her ride her hilarity out before saying, “So…my chance?”
“Fine,” she says primly, although her lips are still twitching. “Unlike you, I’m a person of my word. But the second you bail on me—or lie to me, we’re done.”
I nod. “Understood. Now, take off that T-shirt.”
“Why?” She sounds genuinely confused. Suddenly she narrows her eyes. “Are you trying to get me topless?”
“No, I’m trying to get you out of another man’s shirt. You’re mine, Bobbi. You don’t wear another man’s shirt or put on his scent.”
Something that’s half amusement and half dare fleets over her gorgeous face. “Well, as it happens I’m wearing both. Whatcha gonna do about—”
