He frowned. “Why?”
“Because I give them to the kids in the building opposite. Things are hard for them. It’s not much, but the little ones are happy.” I sighed. “I’ll never get it right—”
A snarl was the only warning before Wilbur launched his scraggly body at me from the counter, causing me to stagger back as I clutched him. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry I left you alone the entire day—oh, crap!” His claws pierced through my blouse and into my skin.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Jack grabbed him, peeling the duct-tape that was Wilbur off me. I grimaced and rubbed my burning chest.
“What is this?” Jack held the still clawing, hissing feline by the scruff of the neck.
“That’s Wilbur.”
“It has a name? Looks more like a rat escaping from sewer prison.”
True. With his torn left ear and short, black-and-gray coat, and ribs still sticking out despite foraging in my dorm for food—the latter being my fault because I couldn’t let the little cretin starve, he did resemble a rodent. He hadn’t put on much weight since he’d attached himself to me these past few weeks. Heck, he ate more and better than I did. And my sister called me a bottomless pit.
Another growl echoed. “Yeah, yeah, you’re hungry. But I need to clean up this mess you made—eek!” I stumbled back at the dead rat on the floor amidst the mess.
Jack laughed.
I scowled at him. “That’s not funny—” Wait, was the darn cat purring?
I blinked, realizing then that Jack had him cradled against his chest and was stroking his back. The evil feline appeared in seventh heaven.
“The turncoat. Should have called him Arnold. And I treat you to tuna?” I grumbled.
Ignoring Jack’s amused grin, I got the broom and dustpan and started to clean the mess, shutting my eyes when I had to sweep the dead rat into the pan. Then I hastily dumped it all in the trash.
I turned to put the things away and gaped.
Jack crouched beside Wilbur, who now inhaled the tuna Jack had opened and dropped into the blue plastic bowl. Well, I had the three cans on the counter. Then he rose and put more water into the other bowl and set it near Wilbur. The cat’s tail flicked against Jack’s arm as if in a caress.
My jaw dropped.
The little traitor. I walked past them to store the broom and dustpan when Wilbur lifted his head and stared unblinkingly at me as if I’d failed him.
“What?” I growled, aware of Jack still hunkered down and watching me. But I was exhausted from a long day, and I needed a hot shower and then bed. “I said I was sorry. I’m trying my best here, yet you can’t seem to get past your dislike of me. But I swear, cat, you mess up this kitchen again, I’m locking the darn window.”
After several seconds, probably his hunger getting the better of him—it couldn’t be my threats since those never worked—Wilbur flickered his tail, smacking Jack’s arm again, and then returned to his food.
“What?” I demanded, unable to take Jack’s intent stare.
He rose. Two steps, and he closed the small distance between us. I couldn’t escape because my ant-sized kitchen prevented anything that spectacular. He trapped me with his hands on either side of me, caging me in. I was too tired to even try.
“Did you kiss Calum?”
Man, I should have shut my mouth. “Ugh. Go away, Jack.”
“Answer the damn question.”
“You’re such a pain in my—no, okay?” I glowered at him in frustration.
“Good,” he murmured. His breath was a warm caress on my skin, distracting me. His gaze lowered to my chest. “I’d offer to attend to the scratches you must have, but I know you’d tell me to take a hike.” A hint of a smile appeared. “Go see to it.” He finally stepped back, and I pulled much-needed air into lungs screaming for oxygen.
“Hey, Wils,” he called out to the scrawny gray terror. “Take care of her, and no scratching,” he warned, then he winked at me before walking out.
As the door shut behind him, I rushed over and bolted the two locks, then banged my brow against the wood and groaned. He’d had every opportunity to kiss me, and he hadn’t. Why didn’t he?
I glared at the door.
