I snorted in the face of that nonsense. “Bet.” Holding my hand out, I waited.
Instead of freeing his captured hand, Cy leaned in, sniffed at my hand, then, quick as a flash, that mother fricker nipped me.
“Ow! You jerk!” I spluttered out on a laugh. My hand clapped to his mug and I shoved him away from me. The problem was, shoving Cy was like trying to bully a brick wall.
A guy that had actually made it to a fourth date with me once informed me I’m too rough. My first thought had been, the guys’d never thought I was too rough for them. If anything, they were always trying to be careful not to be too rough with me.
Cy let out a growl that wasn’t really anything. His laughter slipping through ruined the effect.
Instead of pulling away from my hand, Cy leaned into it, going so far as to nuzzle into my palm. His chest began to rumble and he mumbled something into my hand I couldn’t make out. His eyes slid closed and that rumble slipped into a purr like the one Elm made with me.
Pausing, he cracked an eye open, his face still mushed into my hand, peering at me between two fingers. “Where my letter?” he asked.
Sobering, I widened my eyes innocently. “What letter?”
Cy pulled back. With a grunt, his gaze darted around. Unerringly, those blue eyes dropped to my hoodie, namely where his hand was still jammed inside it.
With a look just shy of evil, his hand began to shift. I let out a squeak, followed by a shocked laugh, then my hand slapped down over his, where it gripped his fingers tight. We looked like we were holding hands through my hoodie.
“Don’t you dare,” I warned him.
“Where?” he rumbled out softly, his voice a deceptively silky purr.
Breaking character, I frowned up at him. “It has my name on it. It’s more mine than yours at this point.”
“Where?” his cajoling tone had left the building, replaced with a scowl.
Staring up at him, thinking over him pretending to smell Elm on me to protect his slip, I blurted, “Did Elm tell you anything else? I mean, did he say anything else about what happened when he was here?” Swallowing past the lump forming in my throat, I licked my lips and forged ahead. “Did he- Did he say why he- Did he-”
At the look on Cy’s face, I had a feeling he had no clue what I was getting at.
My face reddened so much it was hot with heat. Shaking my head, I mumbled, “Nevermind.”
“What happen, Elm come to Pru’s?” Cy asked. Gone was the teasing and the back and forth. Serious Cypress was in residence and he was kind of a bossy butt.
“Doesn’t matter.” Extricating his hand from my hoodie, I went to stand but found myself yanked back down to Cy. “Oof.” I should have kept my fat trap shut.
“Matters,” Cy grumbled. Giving me a gentle shake as he trapped me wrapping an arm around me, he leaned in, whispering right next to my ear, “Cy not tell.Tell.”
Wriggling away from him, angling my head out of ear whispering territory, I muttered, “That’s just it. There’s really nothing to tell.”
“Tell,” the stubborn butt insisted.
“Elm likes to wear my underwear,” I chirped. Twisting to smile up at him, it was more a teeth baring than any kind of real smile, but he got the point. “Happy now?”
“No.” He gave a grunt. “What Elm do Pru?”
“Who said Elm did anything to me?” Dancing around the subject was easy enough. It’s the only kind of dancing I’ve been up to in too long to care.
“Where’s the letter?” I barked.
Cy opened his mouth to speak, paused, then frowned.
Elbowing him in his side— a trick Birch had taught me— he grunted and released me.
Rolling away from him, I popped up and rushed for the house.
Cy snarled at my back but the sound grew farther away, the faster I ran.
