“Looks like you’re tied to each other now, Der. Also, it’s just one kitten. How hard can taking care of it be for the big, strong you—Deryn Crowhart, celebrity person?”
Rhiannon laughed, and Deryn couldn’t help but think that these were very famous last words.
11
PALOMA, MEMORIES & FLYING SOLO
PALOMA ALLENDE IS OFF THE MARKET!
As seen on Market (ha!) Square, the mayoral candidate, appears to be off the market OFFICIALLY. As previously reported in the Caw, the luxury resort owner has now made several appearances at campaign events on the arm of the youngest Crowhart sister, Deryn.
Their latest sighting was sharing a cozy stroll and chatting with the crafters and vendors, as well as indulging in cinnamon rolls and hot cocoa. Ms. Allende had hers with condensed milk and encouraged her girlfriend to try a few sips. Great choice, if you ask us. And an even better one in Deryn Crowhart, the famous and beloved chef everyone was glad to see back on the island. The couple appears happy and unbothered by the attention and the stir caused with every appearance. Crowds had gathered earlier at Crow’s Brew to watch them enjoy beverages and a PDA.
The Caw can confirm that the beautiful couple will be seen next at the town hall in support of amendments to the book-banning procedures, as Ms. Allende is running on a promise to end the vicious and clearly discriminatory bans that havedeprived the readers of Crow’s Nest of numerous titles from the public library.
Now important questions arise about the fate of the youngest Crowhart. Will she open her own bakery, or will she only be sharing her talents with the owner of the Astronomy Resort?
Watch this space and watch the island’s new favorite couple!
—Crow’s Caw
“So, you have a cat now?”
Paloma watched the little ball of fluff curl into her lap and fall instantly asleep. Deryn gawked.
“It stayed up all fucking night! It scratched everything. It bit me! Why does it do this for you?”
Paloma smirked.
Deryn waved her hands in front of her.
“Do not say you have a way with pussy. I’m too tired to react to that statement appropriately.”
“That’s something you’d say, Ms. Crowhart. I’m never crass.”
The kitten purred. Deryn reached a hand to pet it, and despite closed eyes, its little paw extended with claws at the ready and took a swipe at the approaching appendage. Deryn jerked her fingers away. Paloma ran a knuckle over the silky gray fur. The kitten purred harder.
“You should keep it. It clearly likes you.” Deryn pouted. Paloma wished she did not find those full lips as attractive as she did. Petulance really shouldn’t be this sexy. Nor exhausted green eyes this beautiful.
Deryn arrived thirty minutes ago and while the story about the kittens, Rhiannon, Patches the Possum, and how terrified she was about the whole thing was funny, Paloma couldn’t help but worry about the tiredness and the dejection on Deryn’s face. So she treaded carefully, focusing on the sleepy ball of fuzz instead.
“I think she appreciates not being called an ‘it,’ Ms. Crowhart. A lady would like to have a proper appellation, too. Have you thought about what you’ll be naming her?”
“Naming her? I’m not even sure I’m keeping her. Also, how did you know she was a she?” Deryn tilted her head to attempt a look under the kitten’s tucked-in tail. The animal in question opened one eye and hissed. Deryn dropped her face into her palms. Paloma bit her lip to avoid smiling at the ridiculousness of the situation. Or maybe adorableness. She’d never say.
“I refuse to be crass again, but you do know there are biological tells, Ms. Crowhart?” Deryn did not lift her face from her palms, and Paloma placed the purring cat on the couch pillow before getting up and pouring them both a finger of whiskey.
Deryn took the glass without looking, downing it in a single gulp, and Paloma finally did roll her eyes at the coughing and sputtering that followed.
“Ms. Crowhart, this is a forty-year-old Hibiki. It’s savored, not drowned in. If you need that type of spirit, I’ll try to find you something cheaper.”
“Oh Goddess, that’s a fifty-thousand-dollar bottle of hooch.” Deryn had tears streaming down her face.
“Sixty.”
Paloma splashed more whiskey into another tumbler and handed it to Deryn. Their fingers brushed as Deryn took the glass, and the sensation raised the hair on the back of Paloma’sneck. She could feel her hands, which she had struggled all day to keep warm, suddenly relax, heat seeping into them.
It was like being scalded by fire itself. Hot, seductive, tantalizing. She licked her lips, trying to ground herself in the moment, in whatever it was she was doing.
