“Blair said that one time Ash caught a cold, and gave it to Alvin,” she grumbles. “But they always keep an eye on things like this.” She sighs and heads to the wall on the opposite side of the room. She sits with her legs crossed, her hands resting on her thighs and her back against the wall.
I join her, stretching my legs out next to her. “Everyone here wants the cats safe and healthy,” I tell her gently. “And we’ve got the best vets, too. We have Doctor Jolie, and then you’ll meet Logan tomorrow. There’s nothing to worry about, Maeve.”
“Talk to me about something else,” she murmurs. “Distract me.”
Her mouth is formed into a thin line as she stares straight ahead, and I rack my brain to think of anything else besides the kitten.
“I hate the newest book I’m reading,” I tell her.
That causes her to snort and turn to me. “Then why are you reading it?”
“Because I’m halfway through, and I don’t want to abandon it. I still need to know how it ends.” I grin, and she chuckles.
“Tell me about it, then.”
“Imagine a detective that ignores the biggest clue possible in solving his sister’s murder. Then, when he’s starting to figure it out, another murder happens and he abandons his original lead. It’s silly.”
“Yuck. What was the original clue he ignored?”
“You’re not going to believe it,” I warn her, waggling my eyebrows.
“Tell me.” She leans toward me, her warm eyes curious.
“Cat litter.”
She blinks. “Huh?”
“There was DNA in the cat litter, and he missed it.”
“What the hell kind of books are you reading, Ivan?”
“Murder mysteries with cat litter, apparently. I joined a detective book club online—I don’t recommend it.”
Maeve looks at me like I’m crazy, and it only makes me grin wider.
“Of all the book genres in the world, you choose crappy detective ones,” she says, quirking a brow.
“Apparently.”
“Don’t they make like, cozy cat mysteries or something?” She waves her hands in exasperation. “You know, something better thanthat?”
Mission accomplished.
“Let’s go to the bookstore and find out.”
She sticks out her leg and nudges my shin with the tip of her combat boot.
“Only if you buy me books.”
“Deal.”
“And a coffee. And an overpriced cookie.”
“It’s a date.”
Her face flushes, and she suddenly becomes very interested in the chipped purple nail polish on her thumb.
“Anyway,” I say, standing. “I’ve got to back to the clinic. But I’ll check in with Bean, and loop in Doctor Jolie, just in case. Okay?”
