“I’m so sorry to worry you,” she said. “Bran forgot his hat and gloves. Since he’s in the middle of taking care of the goats, I volunteered to come get them. I was thinking about the farmer’s market that’s coming up and what I need to have ready. I didn’t even remember the alarm until it started beeping.”
Sitting back, I took a deep breath. “I’m so glad it was you. I worry a lot, with everything that’s happened over the past few years.”
“I understand, dear. But all is well. I’ll arm the alarm when I leave, and I’ll be sure to lock up. See you when you get home.”
As she hung up, I closed my eyes for a second, wishing that I didn’t jump at every loud noise. Some habits died hard, and I was so hypervigilant that I wondered if I’d ever be free of anxiety.
CHAPTER TWO
“I’m sorry,” Fancypants said. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”
I rubbed my forehead, trying to stave off the sudden headache that came sweeping in the moment I walked into the kitchen. “There’s a reason I asked you not to tease the cats around the kitchen counters.”
“I realize that now,” Fancypants said.
“Was this mess here when May came over?” I asked, wondering where to begin.
The dragonette shook his head. “No, it wasn’t. She would have cleaned it up.”
That was true enough. May would have immediately pulled out the broom and mop, and Fancypants would have been ordered to help her.
The kitchen was a total mess. I wasn’t sure what had happened, but the flour and sugar canisters were on the floor, broken. Flour and sugar were everywhere—coating the kitchen in a dusting of white. I kneeled down to examine what turned out to be a pile of china shards. Faron had stacked dishes on the counter to put away, but apparently the only place they were going was into the trash. I sidestepped the broken dishes, cautiously moving to the other side of the sink. What had been a vase of roses was now shattered glass, water everywhere, and the remains of the flowers.
I leaned on what looked like a clean part of the counter, only to realize that my hand was covered in oil. That’s when I saw the upended container of oatmeal and the carafe of cooking oil that had been tipped over. The stopper was gone, and the bottle had only a few ounces left in it.
I was usually incredibly patient with the cats and Fancypants, but my temper had reached its boiling point. “What the hell happened?”
Fancypants winced, then pointed to the catnip mouse that was still on the counter. “I wanted to play with Gem and Silver. I went to get them a catnip toy; I wanted to give them a treat. I dropped one on the counter when I was trying to shut the cupboard and…”
He looked so bereft that I almost took pity on him. Almost. “And they were on it like white on rice,” I said.
“Right. I threw another one, trying to get them off the counter, but it landed next to the canisters and?—”
“You have lousy aim,” I said, scowling. “I suppose I’m going to be the one cleaning up this mess? You realize I have a car full of groceries, including frozen food, that needs to be put away?” I was trying to maintain my anger, but the more I looked at the mess, the more ridiculous it seemed, and the more I envisioned Fancypants frantically trying to stop two cats with drug-addled motor skills, the more I wanted to laugh.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll help you clean—and you can cut my television privileges.”
Fancypants looked so bereft that I finally let out my breath and shook my head. “Seriously, next time, toss their jingle balls around for them. Okay?”
Fancypants nodded. “I’ll get the whisk broom.” He could carry a whisk broom while flying.
“Let me take off my jacket and we’ll get busy.” I tried to step over the remnants of the broken vase, but when I set my foot down, it landed in a pile of granulated sugar. Unbeknownst to most people, sugar was one of the slipperiest substances on the planet. My foot slid forward, and I ended up doing the splits right into the pile of thorny roses and broken glass.
I yelped, grateful that I was wearing thick leather pants. A thorn still poked through to stab me in the thigh, but I landed just shy of getting sliced and diced in my cooch.
“What on earth?” Farron asked, opening the door. He looked around the kitchen, then back at me. “Do you need help?” He immediately started toward me before I could warn him about the sugar. The next moment, his feet slid out from under him, and he landed on his ass in the pile of flour and sugar. “What the fuck?—?”
“Welcome to the first annual Kitchen Disaster Olympics,” I said, easing myself around to grab the counter as I got to my feet. “Fancypants and the cats decided to redecorate in a catnip-infused frenzy.” I grunted as I stepped away from the mess and stripped off my jacket. I brushed off my pants, between my thighs, brushing away the sugar, flour, and a rose that had attached itself to my leather pants. “Get the whisk broom and a couple of rolls of paper towels,” I told Fancypants.
Faron extricated himself from the mounds of flour and sugar and cautiously strode to the closet where he retrieved the broom. He quickly realized that the broom wasn’t necessarily the best option, and retrieved the sponge mop and dampened it enough to give it traction on the floor. As he began using it to push the mounds of flour and sugar together, I crouched and began picking up the roses.
Fancypants landed on the ground and—using a paper towel—swept up piles of sugar and flour. I asked him to hold the dustpan while I whisked the piles of sugar, glass, china, and flour into the pan. Twenty minutes later, I was mopping the floor while Faron brought in the groceries. When everything was clean, Faron carried the trash bag of broken fun out to the garbage can.
When we were done, Faron made coffee while I went to change clothes. I shifted into black jeans and a green turtleneck and returned to the kitchen. Fancypants sat on the counter, looking anxious.
“Well?” he asked as I entered the room.
Puzzled, I asked, “Well, what?”
