Page 60 of Bred By the Sheikh

The cat attacked the tassel again.

Two days ago, the cat had been thin enough to disappear against Chrissy’s chest. Now her coat was clean, her eyes were bright, and apparently hydration had revealed a criminal personality.

Farah stood with the empty carrier.

“The veterinarian says she may remain in the residence as long as her medication is given with food for the next three days.”

“Of course,” I said.

Chrissy looked over her shoulder at me. “You hear that? You get to stay.”

The animal abandoned the cushion and charged straight for her open tote.

Chrissy caught her around the middle before she could climb inside.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

She twisted in Chrissy’s hands, reached one paw toward the bag, and nearly knocked her notebook onto the floor.

I laughed.

The sound came out harder than I expected.

Chrissy froze.

Then she tipped her face up to me, still sitting on the rug with the cat wriggling against her chest, and her whole face brightened.

“There it is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that laugh.”

I shook my head.

The cat seized a loose strand of her hair.

Chrissy yelped, then started laughing again as she tried to pry her paw free.

She stared at the cat.

“Goblin.”

I took in the tassel, her bag, and her hair trapped in one determined paw.

“Yes,” I said. “Goblin.”

Farah’s expression remained composed, although I saw the brief movement at the corner of her mouth.

Chrissy freed her hair and gathered Goblin against her chest.

The cat settled instantly.

Of course she did.

Her small body curved into Chrissy while Chrissy stroked one hand from Goblin’s head to her tail. The sharp line of her spine was less pronounced than it had been two days ago.

“That’s much better,” she murmured. “You don’t feel like three sticks in a fur coat anymore.”