“That better be agreement, Little Lady.”
I turned on the television in the living room before going to the kitchen and taking out the ingredients. The eggs were cooking up perfectly, and I sliced some gruyere to melt on top. All the while, the kitten stared at me from the couch. She turned her head slowly to the television, then back to me. My eyes flicked to the screen, and a laugh spilled from my lips. The same episode ofFriendsas the other night was on, and the kitten slowly blinked before focusing her eyes back on the screen.
Nope. Not happening.
But she needed a name. A badass name like Jenna said. Maybe I should text her to see what she thinks.
“What about Shadow?” She doesn’t look my way. “Gray? Midnight? Twilight?” Nothing. Not even a flick of her ear. “I know,” I said, plating everything and walking to the living room.
Setting breakfast on the coffee table, I picked up the kitten. Ignoring her squeak of protest, I held her with both hands above my head and lowered my voice. “I have no problem taking your skinny ass upstairs to the balcony and showing you off to the neighborhood.”
I swear to all the gods—she rolled her eyes before leaning forward to sniff the eggs on my plate. “Buzzkill.” I scoffed as she turned up her nose and looked back to the television.
“I didn’t offer you any, Princess.No!How about Phoebe? You look like a Phoebe, baby girl. Still nothing?” I shook my head and picked up my plate. The termite guy was coming at ten, so I shoveled down the rest of my food before I thought of any more ridiculous names.
At five minutes to ten, a neon orange van with a cartoon bug on the side pulled in front of the house. I was ripping up the front porch steps and stopped, wiping the sweat from my face. The van looked ridiculous, but my brothers recommended them.
“Mark?” he asked, stretching his hand out to shake mine. I gripped his firmly and nodded. He had a good, solid handshake and hard features—he looked like a no-nonsense and competent guy.
“Yes, sir. Good morning.”
“The name’s Bill. When’s the last time your house was inspected?”
Straight to the point and no chit-chat—I liked this guy already.
“I’m not sure. I recently bought the place and couldn’t find the most recent termite inspection.”
“Okay. That’s a little worrisome, but I’ll get you checked out. You replacing the porch steps?” he asked, pointing to the pile of boards. I grunted acknowledgment and turned to the porch, seeing two little black ears peeking through the screen door. “Mind if I take a look?”
“Not at all,” I said, scratching my scruff. I hadn’t gotten around to shaving, and it was prickly as fuck.
Bill bent down and picked up one of the rotten boards, making a hissing noise that made my stomach clench. I rubbed my pendant and crossed my fingers while he picked up another board and snapped it like a matchstick.
Fuck.
“Looks like you have bad news for me,” I said, stepping up beside him and crossing my arms. My fingers itched to grab the rabbit’s foot in my pocket, but it looked like it wouldn’t do me any good.
“I’m not going to sugar-coat it for you. This looks like an infestation. I’d contact the old owner right away and possibly a lawyer. Mind if I grab my bag and get started?”
“Yeah, man. Thank you.”
He turned away when I remembered my pint-sized pip-squeak in the house.
“Hey Bill, do you use any chemicals that will harm cats?”
“Not at all,” he said, giving me a curt nod and glancing at the door.
“Good,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
Sighing, I sat down beside the rotten porch steps, taking my phone out of my back pocket and dialing mom. She picked up after the first ring, greeting me how she always does.
“Well, hello, my favorite son. How are you doing?”
“Fine. I guess,” I said, stumbling over how to ask her if she kept up with inspections.
“Hmm. Would you like to hear how my feud is going with old Cam Winston down the street, or would you like to tell me why you called?”
“As much as I’d like to hear how much better your hydrangeas are blooming compared to his...”
